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we had dropped in to play a pickup game, and two-dimensional anorexics and the three-dimen- 5
there just happened to be a bunch of sick people sional Claymation overeaters — no matter the size
in the hospital. of their own sense of insubstantiality, each had
On the day my mother left we participated taken on the form of her disease. It made me hun- section three
in a “coining ceremony,” wherein she said gry and empty, too, but not for food. I was hungry
good-bye to her fellow eating disorder friends for family, for strength, for wholeness.
and hello to her family, to us. The coining cere- On the day my mom was released from the /
mony was similar to the “share circles” of group hospital, we stopped at a grocery store on the
therapy, except that it was solely focused on way home. A horrible idea on my father’s part,
the patient who was getting out. Everyone read or maybe it was my mom’s idea, to show off the Carrie Brownstein
something from their journal about my mother. cure, a victory lap through the cookie aisle, an
As I listened I sensed that within this configura- acceptance speech in front of the pasta. I don’t
tion of fellow patients my mother was a known know if you’d take an alcoholic to a liquor store
entity, she felt cared for and safe, seen. But I was on the way home from rehab but maybe it’s dif-
outside the circle. My mother was a stranger to ferent with food. The idea was to normalize it, so
me. My sister was eager to be a part of whatever we tried. I spent the entire grocery store trip tell-
form my mother was taking on; she melted, ing my mom about the TV shows she had missed
molded herself to the dynamic. I didn’t want to while she was in the hospital. This was to distract
engage with the illness; the anorexia was what her from the fact that we were surrounded by
was taking my mother away. I was surprised to everything she didn’t want to eat. I’d feed her
find that I was such a focus of the narrative in with stories! I’d entertain the pain right out of her.
the room, my mother’s desire to be closer to me, When we got back to the house there was 30
my feistiness and anger and alienation a piece a sign above the garage door, “Welcome Home.”
of some puzzle I couldn’t see the edges of. I’m certain that when my mother saw it she
Everyone was sobbing, including my father. wanted to turn right around and go back to the
It was the first time I’d seen him cry. It was like EDU: Who wants to advertise that they are home
an irrigation system, each person a sprinkler, from the hospital, unless they’re bringing home
all watering the room with their tears. I felt a baby? It was glaring blitheness on my father’s
drenched, soggy. I wanted everyone to be stron- part. Maybe my mom was a newborn, coming
ger, to embrace the stoicism I was perfecting. I home to be loved and nurtured in all the ways
judged. These weak women and their diseases. that could keep her healthy and in recovery. It
Eat already, or stop eating. Get it together! was a do-over. The welcome turned out to be
The fragility was suffocating, the dysmorphia temporary anyhow. Within a year she left for
so pronounced it made my head hurt. The good.

Understanding and Interpreting

1. The first part of this excerpt focuses on the characterization of Linda, Brownstein’s mother.
Based on this section, how does Brownstein feel as a child about her mother? How does
she feel about her later, as an adult looking back on her childhood and writing this narrative?
2. When her mother goes into the hospital for the first time, Brownstein says she “had a
newfound status on the carpool circuit” (par. 8). What does this mean? How does Brownstein
feel about these changes, and what does it reveal about her at this point in her life?

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