Yeah, that. You see, when I was in HS and living at home, my dad had such control over my life that I couldn't make a move without him somehow finding out about it. He controlled every aspect of my life. Who my friends were, who I dated, where I went and when I came and went. Not to mention the pure hell it was living with him and his drinking.
I became very anorexic. I was 5' 8" tall, and weighed 110 pounds. Bones stuck out everywhere, my hips, ribs, collar bones, everything. I got to where I was only eating a few saltine crackers a day, along with a diet pepsi. That's it. Looking back, it was the only thing in my life that *I* had control over... what I ate. My dad controlled the rest.
It made me very sick, but I hid it well, until one day I ended up in the hospital. I had a 104 degree temperature, but was freezing my butt off. My dad had to practically carry me into the hospital, I was too weak to walk and couldn't keep anything down. I think my body had finally shut down from lack of food. I was in the hospital for about a week, and I think it was the first time that my dad was more concerned about me than his control over me. But that didn't last long.
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