I need a place for me.

I'm a very family oriented person... I love my family. We used to be so... Dare I say it, perfect. Then the proverbial shit hit the fan and, well, here I am finding out that they've begun seeing a family counselor. (The key word there being "they", not "we".)

I guess it all started when I left home. Typical story... Teenager leaves home for college, on to better things, a better life, trying to better herself. The separation was difficult, way more than I expected. Actually, I really expected to miss my mom and my little sister... But what I didn't count on was missing my dad. I miss him more than I miss them. I know, that's terrible, but it's true. It's amazing how much you realize you miss something (or someone) after they are gone. I used to go home a lot.. Not so much anymore.

My little sister is my best friend. She's the polar opposite of me, and that's what I love most about her. She doesn't let anyone walk all over her, she knows who she is and what she's about, and she's only 17. I'm almost 21 and I haven't even come close to figuring out that kind of shit about myself yet. Anyway, recently my parents decided to get out of the piss hole that is my hometown and actually move here, to San Diego, where I live. Little Sis isn't taking it so well.. Actually, she's not taking it at all. She is the epitome of the teenage rebel. She's angry at the world, and everyone's out to get her... And it's taking a toll on... Well, everyone.

Dad called earlier... I haven't seen him since Christmas. I'm going home for Easter, but unfortunately he won't be there. He has a "work thing" in Oklahoma. It breaks my heart not seeing him for this long. It pains me even more for him to call me and ask what he should do about Little Sis... Like I know. On the one hand, I see where she's coming from; It sucks Mom&Dad are making her move her senior year, they hate her boyfriend, she hates them, blah blah blah. But on the other end, I completely empathize with my parents; It's not like they're asking her to move to fuckin' Egypt, it's SD. Her boyfriend is a deuche bag, and I want to kick him in the knees. (What kind of 20 year old guy who works at the local dairy and wears chick pants dates a 17 year old girl? Ew.) And she doesn't have to REBEL so god damn much. So Dad drops the bomb on me: "Didn't Mom tell you? We're seeing a family counselor."

Enter my mother. Also my best friend, but a lot more like me than Little Sis. Perfect in every way, the sweetest of dispositions. The picture of success, beauty, and poise. Ok, it sounds like I'm trying to make myself sound like all of those things, but really those are the things I strive for, not what I am. She's one of those people who ignores an inherent problem if it's too taboo or dirty looking in the public eye. So of course I call her immediately after hanging up with Dad, and after dancing around the issue she says she will not speak to me about it because therapy isn't something you just TALK about. Uhm, excuse me, I'm in this family too, and I think I have a say in all of this. Not to mention I have been in therapy before, and probably should still be in therapy... I just don't want to deal with MY problems.

And finally, me... My problems. Well, I guess the only one I'm completely aware of is I have binge eating disorder. I eat until I can't breathe. Disgusting, I know. Especially considering I used to be a skinny twig, and now I'm becoming... Well, a tree trunk. It's all I think about, all day every day, and it's driving me insane... But heaven forbid I talk about it. I need help, I just can't afford it... Financially or mentally.

Well, I'm exhausted from introductions... More later, after I sign up for a personal trainer. Ugh.