Family Dinners Cause me Anxiety.

I have blanked out the years prior to our final meal as a 'family'. I have no recollection of life being good, sad, happy or my parents arguing. I have tried various forms of trauma therapy, not because I wanted to open up old scars but because of my relationship with taste. 

Loss of taste is often associated with head injury, mine was emotional trauma.

It appears that night I lost my appetite. I lost my sense of taste, not entirely, but in a way that I am not excited by flavour. It's like 'meh' whilst everyone around me is amazed at the flavours of some sauce or other. I copy everyone's cues to fit in, but my taste buds stopped caring so long ago that I no longer try to recall flavours.

At some point, my family thought I was becoming a little too thin for their liking and caused a commotion with an intervention. I assured them I would eat more, which I did. I had no desire to starve to death. It's hard to explain, I just don't care for food.

Our Last Supper.

She made chicken, and he made some dauphinois potato creamy dish. Us kids made the side dishes and we set the table. You couldn't get more normal than that. There was no tension, no strange looks that any of us picked up on. It was actually fun for a Thursday instead of homework and chores. We sat, we passed the water, we discussed our day and the annoying things teachers said and did, friends that pissed us off or made us laugh hard. 

Then we cleared the table and gathered for the crumble and custard, my favourite. Tart apples with a crunchy topping. I should know, I tasted the apples before they were cooked. I recall the sensation, but no longer the flavour.

The silence between mum and dad was eerie. A sigh here, a cough there. A gulp and a small pat on the thigh. And then they read straight out of the divorce guidebook;

"Kids, know that we love you and we always will, it's just your mum and I have decided we can no longer stay together. But don't worry, nothing will change. We will still be here for you and we still care for each other."

What? When? How? Why? All of us piped up, none of us said 'I told you so.' or 'I knew it!'

I guess the shock stayed within me.

And then everything changed.

Obviously, they lied. They hated each other, and they went to war soon after their announcement. We were pawns in the middle of their need to unleash hell and fury on each other. Dad moved abroad and started a new family with a younger woman. Mum relished being bitter and slagging off dad to anyone and everyone. I suspect he cheated on her and she found out after that dinner. My siblings all reacted differently, I can't share their experience. My new siblings? I met them a few times over the last ten years, and they seem perfectly normal. They can have my dad. He stopped loving me so long ago I don't miss him, not ever.

I sought help to heal my childhood trauma.

The therapists tried to deconstruct my psychological trauma, build bridges with my dad, make peace, rebuild my self-worth. They suspected the loss of my father with the loss of taste, and then they suspected depression. I tried meds, and yeah, some of me healed, but the memories haven't returned and I still hate sitting at family dinners.

Have you experienced something similar? Can you relate? Comment below.

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