I've been cleaning my office today, and I found a huge bin of old photographs, from back in the day before digital cameras. It played havoc on my emotions, some of them seeing the valedictorian pictures and newspaper columns from high school, graduating summa cum laude from one of the largest universities in the state, with a major in microbiology and doing better than a lot of pre-med students and wondering whatever became of that girl.

I saw pictures of loved ones I've lost - 2 grandfathers (one like a father to me since my own father was so distant), one of my grandmothers (the one who shared my love of reading and who looked strikingly like me in photographs when she was younger), which made me sad. My other grandfather had had a fascinating life, but by the time I was old enough to care to ask about it, we'd basically already lost him to Alzheimer's (it's like you lose a loved one with Alzheimer's long before they physically die). I saw pictures of the 3 great grandparents I had known. All of them passed away of natural causes the year I was in 3rd grade at school, causing me high anxiety about death and dying and also something of a macabre fascination with it.

Then, I saw a photograph of one of my aunts with her first husband, this the man who molested me when I was 4 or 5. And, ugh, he was always creepy, would show up at our place long after my aunt divorced him and oftentimes say things about my looks (in hindsight, it's no surprise I developed an eating disorder). He showed up at my graduation and then had the nerve to come by my parents' house and give me some sort of gift. One of my other aunts' first husbands did this too, but it was not that creepy; my aunt had been married to him more of my life, he was more of an uncle to me, that didn't really bother me (though he was too much of a womanizer for my aunt to take).

I found old baptism pictures, with my Godparents, who were none other than the aunt I dislike and the uncle who molested me some years later.

I had pictures of my days in college when my eating disorder were bad. Some had the weights written on them - 97 lb., 93 lb., 85 lb. It didn't have the weight on it, but I found a picture I think was nearest my lowest weight, around 80 lb. I don't know if those pictures made me feel more sad or jealous that I weigh more now (sigh, the gift of the eating disorder, it just keeps on giving).

These pictures have done a bit of a number on my emotions this afternoon. It's so much it's like it's almost too much to digest and process. I finally made myself just stop looking at them, box up the loose photos, and put the albums on a shelf in my closet.