Editing my manuscript

In a way, this feels like the most legitimate work I've ever done. An excerpt:

            Dinner is beef and broccoli with a side of television. We serve ourselves and my mother serves my father, who sits in the small dining nook wearing only his underwear. Middle and I are in charge of getting him drinks. He communicates through grunts and hand signals, pounding his chest like an ape for emphasis. Even Jonathan looks disgusted in his high chair.

          We take our places at the scarred bleached-wood table. I want to roll around in the wheeled dining-room chair until I vomit, but instead I load up my fork and put it to my lips. Small bites, I’d counseled myself in my journal. Chew well. Trick your stomach into thinking it’s not hungry.

          “I took her to Frye’s office today,” my mother says.

          Rooster makes a humph noise.

          “He said she was –”

          “Do you mind?” He doesn’t take his eyes from the screen. “Family Ties is on.”