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Parenting
The Second Line
Updated: May 22, 2017
Originally Published: July 28, 2014
During my college years, I faced an assault that led me to subconsciously seek solace in food. This quickly spiraled into a serious eating disorder. When my mother uncovered my struggle during a summer visit home, my return to campus that fall involved a series of intensive counseling sessions with a specialist in eating disorders. Dr. Harris, a no-nonsense ex-military counselor with a compassionate side, guided me through my difficult journey. Just as I began to regain control of my life, he uttered a phrase that filled me with dread: “It’s time to involve your family.”
I can’t recall how we arrived at Dr. Harris’s office or entered the room, but the details that followed remain vivid. The expressions on my family’s faces—my mother, anxious and pale; my father, reserved and silent; and my sister, confused and frightened—are forever etched in my memory. As the session unfolded, Dr. Harris asked me to visually represent my relationships with each family member using lines—one line for weak, two lines for strong.
Without hesitation, I drew two lines connecting my name to my mother’s. Next, I confidently drew two lines for my sister. However, when it came to my father, doubt crept in. Tears filled my eyes as I drew one shaky line and dropped the pencil, staring at my feet.
My dad looked at me expectantly. “Why just one line?” Dr. Harris inquired, and the silence in the room was deafening. “Because I never feel good enough for him,” I exclaimed, instantly regretting my words. I blamed him for my muddled teenage thoughts, failing to recognize the loving father standing before me—a man who devoted himself to our family and prioritized my sister and me above all else. At that moment, I couldn’t see the truth.
After that session, my father was tasked with writing me a letter expressing his feelings. Days later, I received a small stack of hotel notepad paper from where my parents had stayed during the therapy visit. I can only imagine how challenging it was for my father, a man of few words, to put his feelings into writing. The letter conveyed everything I needed to hear, including his acknowledgment of the importance of expressing his emotions. He promised to make a greater effort to demonstrate his love. “One day,” he wrote, “we can draw the second line.”
I still cherish that note, tucked away in a special spot in my closet. Even though it wasn’t his fault, my dad took on the responsibility for our relationship without hesitation. He quietly and lovingly supported me, as he always had.
Years later, when my marriage crumbled, it was my dad who helped me navigate budgeting to avoid bankruptcy. It was he who offered to drive to Atlanta to bring me home. Through these experiences, I learned to recognize love in its many forms, preparing me for when I met my second husband, allowing me to see with both my heart and mind, not just my eyes.
The issue wasn’t that my dad didn’t express his feelings; rather, I was looking for verbal affirmations to feel loved. In reality, it was the countless ways he showed his love that I needed to learn to appreciate.
This is the lesson I will pass on to my son: Love is when someone swaps out your soap as it shrinks; love is filling your car’s gas tank so you don’t have to; it’s celebrating your achievements instead of tearing you down; it’s standing by your side and fighting for you; and it’s the belief that “I believe in you. We can do this together.” Love means that saying “I love you” is just the beginning.
I might have been a slow learner, but I finally grasped it: my dad’s genuine, steadfast, and quiet love surpasses all the “I love yous” anyone could ever say. Dad, I want you to know that I drew the second line a long time ago.
This article was originally published on July 28, 2014.
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Summary: In this heartfelt narrative, Rachel Thompson reflects on her journey through an eating disorder and the pivotal role her family played in her recovery. Through therapy sessions, she learns to assess her relationships with her family and ultimately discovers the profound love her father has always shown her. This experience teaches her the importance of recognizing love in its many forms, which she is eager to share with her son.