My hand shook. I stared as it carried vibrating forkfuls of food towards my mouth--too quickly, I thought. I could barely swallow in time before having another bite to chew. I didn't feel control over my own movements, so they happened anyway; I simply observed. The clichéd tremble amused me, and I chuckled to myself, which I'm sure came across as puzzling to my mother who sat across from me, leaning back from her empty plate as I continued to work at my food--barely touched.