Justice for Amy

I spent a few days in Michigan last week, and while I was there, decided to peruse my mom's selection of books. She usually lets me invade her collection when I'm home, and was generous enough to let me read her copy of If I Am Missing or Dead: A Sister's Story of Love. I was intrigued by the book, partially because of it's subject matter, and partially because the author grew-up in Michigan.

Janine Latus and her sister, Amy, grew up in a large family. Their father was emotionally and sexually abusive to Janine and her sister, and both of these women grew up to be in abusive relationships. The books is written from the perspective of Janine, and ends in the death of her sister Amy. Amy's story was fairly sensational, garnering attention from national news media. Amy's murderer was sentenced to just under 20 years in prison after pleading guilty to Amy's death.

I'll admit that I am not a professional book critic. I read frequently, but don't feel well equipped to accurately articulate the pros and cons of every book I read. However, after reading If I am Missing or Dead, I felt that I had been deceived.

Firstly, the books title and summary indicate that this book is the story of a woman's death. Not so. Instead the story is mainly based on the trials and tribulations of Amy's sister, Janine. Janine mainly tells Amy's story through a series of reiterated phone call conversations and recollection of family vacations. Only at the final chapters of the book, does Amy's story unfold, and discussed the specifics of her domestic abuse and untimely death.

I finished the story upset with Janine Latus. I didn't think she did justice to her sister's memory. Much of the narrative on Amy described her weight fluctuations, something that seemed to bother Janine more than Amy. Janine also battles her own weight and image demons; allowing her husband to perform daily weigh-ins, and getting breast augmentation at his "gentle" suggestion. The book offered a few discussion questions posed to Janine Latus after she had written the book. I was completely surprised to read that Janine found no connection between she and Amy's body image issues and their abuse. Given the great amount of time Janine spends describing their bodies from youth to adulthood, it was difficult to understand how Janine could not make this connection.

The book purports itself as a red-flag to women, to watch-out for these types of behaviors from the men in our lives. Although Janine Latus eventually leaves her husband, it is after over a decade a marriage; after her children and step-children witness years of verbal and physical abuse. After years of Janine staying in the relationship out of a need to feel needed and wealthy. I found Amy's death to be more of an injustice after seeing it from Janine's perspective. It is too strong to say that Amy's sister capitalized on her death, but I did detect a sort of martyr-ish self-fulfillment in Janine's woeful tale.

It's strange to take an emotional journey of this nature, and come out feeling unresolved. I realize that I am judging a situation from which I have had nary a sip, but I found myself wanting more for Amy Latus. That at least those closest to her could have an insight into how their lives had unraveled.

It's too late
She's gone too far
She's lost the sun
She's come undone

She didn't know what she was headed for
And when I found what she was headed for
It was too late
She's come undone
She found a mountain that was far too high
And when she found out she couldn't fly Mama, it was too late

Eventual Clarity

Tonight, I ran into an old friend of mine from the first year I lived in Nashville. Whenever I run into someone I haven't seen in awhile, I kind of clench up. Immediately, I run a mental assessment to determine if I was thinner or heavier the last time I saw the person. I then wait for the inevitable head-to-toe scan, followed by a possible question regarding how much weight I've lost.

But tonight was different, Hannah just looked me right in the eye and told me I looked well. This was especially remarkable given the fact that the last time Hannah saw me, I was sizes smaller. Of course, I was subsisting on a diet of black coffee and Special K cereal, but I digress. We decided to meet later in the evening for drinks, as Hannah happened to already have plans with a few acquaintances from our college days. For the next three hours, I hemmed and hawed on whether or not I would show up. Reunions are not necessarily my forte, unless I know the guest list and all possible escape routes ahead of time. But I went. Reluctantly.

I could run through the events and conversation of the evening, but ultimately, here is what I came away with after spending a couple hours with old friends.

1. No one is paying as close attention to my weight fluctuations as I am. And if they are, they are brilliant, Oscar-worthy actors.
2. Sometimes being in a serious relationship hinders one's ability to socialize effectively. I was engaged for a portion of my first year in Nashville, and I spent a lot of time holed-up in my apartment, gushing to my then-fiancee. I missed out on meeting some really genuine and warm people.
3. I allow myself to hide behind the issues I have with my weight. I convince myself that people aren't going to like me because of the way I look. Although this often keeps me from being hurt, it more frequently prevents me from getting to know really amazing people.
4. Every evening should end with an ale.

All of this is to say that I hate how much life I've missed out on, staying wrapped in this little cocoon I've created for myself. I haven't the faintest clue how to get out of it, but I'm willing to try. So even if this resolve only lasts for the next day, I find some hope in the fact that I am recognizing these parts of myself. Isn't acceptance the first step?

I wish that, I knew what I know now
When I was younger...