It was one of those days for him—20 years old and feeling utterly depleted. Food had been an uphill battle, and he had spent most of the day lethargic and unmotivated, not managing to eat or drink anything at all. After a solid hour of convincing himself that he needed to put something in his body, he finally decided on a simple bagel with cream cheese, a small but significant victory in his struggle against food. Sure, it wasn’t the healthiest option, but he had eaten yesterday and felt that justified this choice. Besides, he had bought the bagel with his own money.
As he started preparing the bagel, his mom asked if he wanted some spinach raviolis instead. “No, that’s why I’m making a bagel,” he replied, trying to keep it simple. But instead of letting it go, she launched into a long-winded lecture about nutrition, declaring how bagels lacked vitamins and how he should be making healthier choices.
He could feel himself shutting down—something he often did during these kinds of conversations. Responding with minimal words and almost robotic tones seemed like the only way to make it through the barrage of questions that followed. “Why don’t you want the ravioli?” “It’s healthier!” “Are you sure you want that bagel?” The questions kept piling on, each one pulling him deeper into a state of reticence.
Then, the inevitable happened. Her voice escalated, and suddenly she was shouting at him to “calm down.” It was bewildering; he wasn’t even upset or animated. He was merely in survival mode, trying to finish making his bagel while suppressing the urge to rebut her mounting accusations. Ignoring her command to calm down was instinctive at that point, as his mind was preoccupied with navigating through the chaos in front of him.
The irony of the entire situation was lost on her, and he quickly realized that this wasn’t an isolated incident. This had become a routine pattern in their interactions—where expressing a simple preference could spiral into a full-on emotional explosion. He could have said something about being told to “calm down,” but he was well aware that acknowledging it would just throw more fuel on the fire. So he continued to make his bagel in silence, answering her questions as briefly as possible, hoping she would run out of steam soon.
After some time, her frustrations bubbled over, and she finally stopped when it became apparent he wasn’t engaging. With that, he slipped out the door to his car, heart heavy with a mix of shame and defiance. Despite the emotional turmoil, he reminded himself that he had promised to let himself enjoy the bagel. He had barely consumed 400 calories that day, and the guilt threatened to rob him of this small pleasure. To combat the shame, he forced himself to eat the bagel, knowing he had earned it by simply existing through the day.
Looking back, he recognized the dynamics at play. He didn’t really see himself as the problem; rather, the situation was indicative of deeper issues rooted in communication and understanding. His parents often dismissed his boundaries and emotions, and even when they pretended to care, their actions spoke volumes. He had tried explaining how it made him feel, how their behaviors triggered him, but it fell on deaf ears. Understanding was not part of the equation; instead, he often felt like a target in an ongoing game of emotional chess where he had little control.
What he couldn’t wrap his head around was why they so often screamed at him to calm down while they were the ones escalating the conversation. It was as if the louder they got, the more justified they felt in their approach. It left him wondering if this was a tactic they used to deflect responsibility and make him feel guilty for simply standing his ground.
As he reflected on the day, he felt a mix of frustration and a sense of resignation. Food days like this were becoming too familiar, leaving him questioning not only his choices but also the underlying dynamics of his relationships with his parents.
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