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Hopefully the 2nd times the charm

by Olga

So, where to start. Well, currently, I'm a high school student and have dealt with extreme bulimia last year, managed to recover but then relapsed again.
I know there are many triggers and causes for bulimia, and I probably have more then one. When I was about ten years old, I was sexually abused by a thirteen year old cousin of mine. So, from then, I developed an extremely low self-esteem.
Being an over-weight child, I wasn't "cool" or super confident, and the encounter that I just mentioned earlier made things even worse. So, by the time I was twelve, I began developing anorexia and exercise bulimia, and the sad part was, I didn't even know what those things were at the time.
The anorexia was partially due to the perfection my grandmother expected from me, and at the time, she was living with us. Yet, the anorexia and bulimia stopped once she left and I was able to enjoy being myself and feel the excitement of being carefree and out of control.
But as time passed, it seemed like I took the out of control part way to far and before I knew it, I gained X pounds in 2 years, reaching the weight of Xlb.
Now, to help understand some of my triggers for bulimia, you have to understand that my mother was absolutely crazy.She used to run around the house, claiming everyone was trying to kill her, and even criticizing her pasta could get you an hour worth of being cursed at, her saying she's disgusted to have a daughter like you, etc.
Well, for some crazy reason, she just decided to go to NYC for a while, and my father works constantly, therefor coming home for about 2 days out of every 2 weeks.
Being left alone at the age of 14, feeling rejected by my peers and family, I turned to food. But as time progressed, I began to hate it for the WAY too out of control feeling it caused, and so I decided to, in a way, finally stick up for my self by throwing up my food.
I understand this is flawed logic but I was sick of everyone leaving and me not being able to stop them. I was sick of trying so hard in school but still getting B's. And I was sick of people snidely calling me fat when they thought I couldn't hear. So I decided to finally say (or shout out) "no" and refuse to let food control me.
I couldn't control my parents and I couldn't seem to do better with my grades, so I attacked the one thing I could get a grasp on first, my peers opinion of me (and therefor my weight). And so I sank VERY deeply into bulimia.
No one was ever home to watch me destroy myself. No one ever had a clue, and that's what really made it much worse, but soon enough, after 6 or 7 months, my mom came home and it became way too hard hiding my eating disorder, and so in a matter of 3 to 4 months, I pretty much gained all the weight back, minus maybe 5lb.
Now, the second bulimia cycle happened after I joined cross country running. The time it took made my grades plummet, the girls around me where super pretty and thin and my mom decided to permanently leave again. That, along with a rejection from a senior boy and some very snobby new friends, and there I was, head back in the toilet bowl with the same wonderful zeal as before.
This time the weight loss was much higher and for a while, I even hit the Xs. The senior boy regretted not going after me, I ended up having my first sort of relationship and made a name for my self in high school.
But all good things come to an end. I realized I didn't even want or care for a relationship (they were much better when I fantasized about them in my head) and because of 2 very small and innocent mistakes I stopped being referred to as "the kinda hot girl that doesn't really talk" and began being referred to as a "wh***, bi*** and druggie" tho i only really had on kiss (no tongue), always tried to be nice, and never even did drugs.
And so when my snobby, new "friends" abandoned me, (I was getting more attention then the head hancho and that was apperantly not ok") it really was the last straw. I was skinny(ish), my name was known and I had gotten all I really wanted. That was when I realized, I had nothing. Not even the food that was in my stomach.
Now currently, I'm working hard towards getting off this bulimia path. Especially now that I realized my passion is to one day be a pastry chef. How on earth am I supposed to do that with an eating disorder? If I can't stop, not only will my health and self-esteem be forever ruined. I will also never be able to do what I love (how are you supposed to make a divine wedding cake if you keep munching on the ingredients?)
And so, for the first time in my very short life, I am pursuing MY dream and have finally found a good enough cause to get rid of my addiction to binging and purging. Before, if I died surrounded by puke at a toilet, well I'd finally have gotten the peace and rest I wanted, but now I have a reason to live. And that reason is one I've over-looked so many times before. That reason is myself.

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