What an incredibly safe place, isolation. Like a warm blanket, covers over me and secludes me from.., all. I learned to go to isolation, disconnection whenever I had had enough of resentment, lies, bitterness and arguing. The family would leave after I had feigned sickness. Alone, I would explore the house, quite, but not afraid. Well, afraid of robbers and school authorities trying to disturb me. But not afraid of rejection nor physical abuse. Everything was available to me, nothing was off limits, within reason. I could have bowls of cereal if the box was not new nor almost gone. Bread with sugar, mayo or pb&j's. Milk, cheese, it was the "Chocolate Factory" and I was "Charlie", wow, complete freedom. Until the car rode up in the drive. Then race to clean up and race upstairs, blanket over my head, eyes wide as saucers, ears at doppler radar strength, terrified.

Food= safety, isolation and freedom. It's mine, no one elses.

Sam