My Battle with Bulimia...Part One

  I am desperately trying to fight this horrible disease of binging and purging that I have developed. I am not sure if you should call it a disease or disorder or even a defect but those words seem fitting to me. My husband on the other hand HATES the word disease. He might call it a sickness from which I will fight to recover or even a lapse in judgement from which I will find a way to higher ground. But for now I am calling it my disease. I know that it is dirty, disgusting, brutal, and highly dangerous to my future and even current health. I tell myself day in and day out that today will be THE day only to find myself succumbing to the power I have relinquished to this plague that keeps pulling me farther down into a deep dark hole. One that when I open the door it is like opening Pandora's box. The darkness, depression, self loathing, self pity, and tornado of thoughts come pouring out driving me to desperately seek that first power high that I once got when I would purge. But it doesn't come as it once does. Instead it makes me feel worse and pushes me to want to fight for a better reality.

  I must be honest by admitting that I am still binging and purging on an almost every day level. Granted I am a lot healthier now that where I was a few months ago, but even if I am purging once a day versus the ten, yes TEN or more, times a day, I am not close to being healthy yet. I did have a brief period of 28 days of sobriety that followed a comment from my then therapist. I was sitting in her office complaining about how I cannot control my purging. It was controlling me and I kept asking her over and over, what do I do; how can I stop; I want to stop! I wanted her to tell me that it was OK because the disease had taken over and I had lost all my control and instead she replied the simple words, "But you do have a CHOICE. You can control it. Plain and simple it is in your power to make that choice."  Now to be honest I was PISSED! I could not believe that she was putting it on me. I left pretty upset and it wasn't until two days later when I read in my AL-anon book that had a saying, " it is who you are, Not what you do, that makes you worthwhile". Then it hit me. She was right. I had a choice. I can be worthwhile if only I make the choice to be. I could choose to stop. I did stop. But I wasn't fixed.

 I am not sure what the trigger was for me after I reached the 28 day mark, but it really doesn't matter. I gave in to the temptation and again I kept lying to myself. I would tell myself it was only this once and tomorrow I would go back to stopping. Instead, here I am months later still trying to find that one focal point that I can grasp onto, one that I can carry with me day in and day out to make that conscious choice. Why it is so hard for me this time, I have no idea. I am trying my hardest to change my self talk and point out to myself all of my good qualities and strengths, but it seem easier said than done. Right now at this very moment I want nothing more than to give into the urge. My heart is racing, my chest is tight, my eyes are welling with but fighting back the tears. I think of all the snacks or processed foods I can shovel into me without instant guilt because they won't stay. But then I think about how it will really make me feel in the long run when all is said and done. I can't honestly say I will really feel better. Instead I sit here and write.

 Being a bulimic is not what I had in mind for my life. I had dreams of being a fantastic mom. I could never decide on a lifelong career because my mind kept wandering to raising children. It took a lot of effort to even have the first one, which resulted in MAJOR surgery when she was only three months old, and the second ended in a full hysterectomy one year later. Maybe those events lead up to where I am now but I know I would not change them because of the amazing kids I have been blessed with. I do know that back in December, when I turned 30, I was going to make a change and fight for my future and the future I can provide my kids. I finally confessed my perfectly bad secret that I had hid from my husband for a full year and I opted to take the scale out of my bathroom and retire it to the garage. I approached a friend 5 months ago about my ailing condition as the doctors were seriously concerned about my health and together we made a plan. I committed to a full strength training regimen with  my friend who is a fantastic fitness coach, as well as amazing with nutrition counseling. I, for the first time in a long time, felt like I was living again.  

 Now the road to recovery is full of detours, bumps, closures, and construction, but I know that if I keep fighting my way through, I WILL find the road that is open, free of constant damage, and full of beauty that I have been overlooking. How long it will take is a question I am not ready to answer honestly yet. I have gotten rid of the scale (oh how I curse the scale). Admittedly it does call my name every so often which I give into once every month or so. Recently I committed to a challenge. A challenge that holds my nutrition choices accountable, one that makes me think before I act, and one that gives me a goal. Not a goal to be skinnier but a goal to look hot in my jeans which are in full truth a size bigger than I have been. A hard concept for my mind to accept but one that pushes me with the knowledge that I will look healthy, be healthy and most of all, I will be able to look in the mirror at myself with pride.