I was sixteen when my parents died. After that, I fell apart.
My older brother, Daniel, and I lived with our grandparents after that. The house was full, but losing our parents still left it feeling strangely empty.
I ate through my grief, and antidepressants didn’t help.
Within a year, I gained sixty pounds.
Jason, my boyfriend, responded with the emotional intelligence of a parking meter. “Emily, maybe you should start going to the gym.”
I ate through my grief.
“Maybe you should start minding your business.”
“I’m your boyfriend. It is my business.”
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