Disclaimer- I don't own Castle, Andrew Marlowe does. Please don't sue me for writing this story! Just having fun playing in the Castle Sandbox! Errors corrected! Thank you for your patience!
A lot of people think that anorexia is only suffered by girls and gay men who've been abused, had horrible childhoods, were told they were fat and unattractive, or had a terrible inciting incident that traumatized them. I'll be the first to tell you that's not true.
I had an idyllic childhood in the Upper West Side of New York City. I think the only event that could be considered traumatizing to me was my parent's divorce, but I was so little, I can't really remember it very well.
My dad was like a big little kid, maybe like a teenage boy. He was definitely Peter Pan, and once the money from his Derrick Storm novels started rolling in, he bought the biggest, dumbest stuff and acted more like Richie Rich. He never yelled at me (that I can remember), he never called me anything less than beautiful, and he never told me to go to bed at night. I remember staying up as late as I wanted with him when I was six and watching Conan O'Brien while Dad was plucking away at his computer. The next day at school, I made a C on a quiz and I was furious about it. I knew I was too tired and my lack of sleep contributed to it, so after dinner and my bath, I put myself to bed at 8 o'clock. I did this to myself for the next five years, except on the weekends. As I got older, I'd sacrifice sleep to do all the things I felt were expected of me.
I never remember being told I was fat or thinking I was particularly fat. But, when my mom came in from California, she was always commenting about how she needed to be careful about her calories and needed to fit into something. She'd take me shopping and would exclaim about how beautiful and perfect I was, and would get salespeople to gush over me, too. I had no idea what calories were at age seven, but I promptly took my father's Webster Dictionary and looked up what a calorie was. I decided that I'd learn all about calories and diet and fitness, since that seemed to be some common factor of all the girls my dad dated. At least the first one that I noticed. As I got older, I noticed they were all sort of stupid, but their relationships with him were short-term. I never anticipated that his relationship with Gina Cowell would last; they dated for a few years, she kept her distance from me even after they married, and then, the inevitable divorce and Dad dove into the bimbos and airline flight attendants again. This was my life; until he met Kate Beckett.
There wasn't one particular incident that traumatized me, like a rape or witnessing a car accident. I had always been wary of my safety, growing up in New York City. That wasn't a problem. My dad also had a thing for really gross medical instances and dead bodies, and I read most of them in his books.
I don't really know what set me off towards this path. But apparently, I'm exactly what an anorexic is, according to The Golden Cage by Hilde Bruch. I worked so hard in my life to be the best of the best, to excel. I didn't know why for the longest time. But, I was the "typical" anorexic. Being mediocre was never in my life plan. That's for damn sure. But when the disease took over, I went through the darkest, deepest bouts of depression I thought a human being could go through; but each low was worse than the other, the suicidal thoughts happened each time, although I never acted on them. I put myself through incredible pain and damage to my body just to gain the love and acceptance despite my imperfection that I was craving so badly. I looked for others to be proud of me and to dictate my self-worth. I had no idea how badly I hated myself because I didn't know any better.
I didn't know there was any other way to feel. God, it took everything inside me to get through this.