On refusing to eat and feeling alive

When I get upset, I wash dishes. Sometimes I'm so upset that I can't see the water pouring from the faucet through all the water pouring from my eyes. They fuse together to form a sort of Niagara Falls in my kitchen and the effect is rather calming. Washing dishes is the perfect thing to do while upset, for one thing it's a mindless task. Pick up sponge, pour neon green liquid over sponge, run under hot water, watch foam slowly take over sponge, grab dirty plate, rinse plate, run foamy sponge over plate, rinse plate again, arrange clean plate on dish rack, repeat. Again and again, sometimes with a fork or a crusty pan, but always monotonous, familiar, simple, clean. Now the mind has been given a break and your hands have been given something to do. You're upset, but you're not being upset under a blanket somewhere, you're doing something productive, and somehow that makes you feel better. When my tears run parallel to the faucet, when my hands are covered in warm foam and the water is so hot it burns, that's when I feel alive. This makes my mother crazy though. I won't talk to her about what upsets me because she already thinks she has everything all figured out. How can you tell someone what's going on in your head when before they ask you they first tell you? You can't, so you say you can't talk and go wash dishes and refuse to eat. This makes her say, "Nothing is going to get better by not eating." and "Have some apple stuff so I know you're still alive." But you are alive, because here you are, you're washing dishes, you've successfully created Niagara Falls in your kitchen, you and the faucet are in sync, you and the dirty plates and forks and crusty pans are all being cleansed in scolding hot water and when the ritual is complete, your hands will tingle, you'll feel it, and you'll know you're still alive.