Dear Karen - Happy Birthday

Dear Karen, I see you.  But I don’t actually.  That’s what my friend Ray, who is helping me with this project emailed me recently.  And it’s true.  I haven’t posted another Dear Karen in the timeframe I thought I would.  I can’t say I haven’t written, because I have.  There are many little snippets, but mostly random thoughts I don’t want to forget so I can share when my mind is a bit more clear.

I say that because this stuff is hard to share.  I can’t thank those close to me enough for the kind words AND the encouragement to continue sharing despite how difficult this is.

This process started as something I was excited about.  Nervous yes, and excited.  Unfortunately since the very day I planned to share my story, life has had some other plans.  Knowing that my eating disorder was probably related to my anxiety in one way or another, I’ve had to really focus on my mental health these past few months.  And that meant putting Dear Karen on hold.  I’m not afraid to admit that I’m emotionally fragile after losing my Dad.  I wasn’t ready for that.  Who is?  In fact, I always feared the day I’d lose him.  He was one of my best friends.  

He was the only one I hadn’t told about about my eating disorder yet.  We had tough conversations but this to me, would be the toughest.  I didn’t want to put the information out there and have him learn about it from an online post or social media.  It was my responsibility to tell him in person.  As with many things, I was waiting for the “right time.”  Unfortunately, his time was cut short extremely quickly.  I wanted to tell him while he was alive.  Knowing there might not be a chance to tell him ever again, I told my father about my eating disorder while he was on life support.  I held his hand, stared at his face, and cried while I told him my story.

My Dad and I share a Birthday.  A day I have always loved and made sure everyone knew about.  As people get older they don’t like to shout from the rooftops that it’s their birthday the way kids make sure you know when they’re their age “and a half.”  Except for me.  I used to tell anyone that would listen that my birthday was rapidly approaching.  Or that my half-birthday was just around the corner!  This year is a little different.  I don’t care to be seen.  I don’t mind being heard… 

I see you Karen.  Looking in the mirror, terrified at what you saw.  Pretty sure that if you continued on this path, you would die.  This was your wake up call and the time you decided to take control and make a change for the better.  It would be hard.  It would take work.  It would take your commitment.

I see you Karen.  

You thought your eating disorder hurt.  It did.  But losing your Dad has hurt more than you could have expected.  Talking to him while he laid there hooked up to machines, unable to breathe on his own, was beyond the words being spoken.  I wished at that point more than ever, that I could have been the one who got sick instead of him.  I’d give anything for that so he could celebrate his special day with those he loved and who loved him.  Here.

You can’t always get what you want.  Even on your Birthday.  Just because he’s not here physically and I can’t see him doesn’t mean I won’t celebrate his special day.  I will see my Dad through the lens I want to see him through.  Not the lens of the last few months, but the lens of the 40+ years I did have with him.  I’m grateful for all those times together.  We may share a birthday, but we share many more memories that I will hold on to for as long as I live.  

When I told one of my best friends that my father passed away, she replied by saying “that man was a legend.”  And it’s true, he was my hero and he is a legend…

“Heroes are remembered, legends never die.” ~ The Sandlot