My road to recovery
My story begins roughly around 14 years ago. I am 28 now so I've lived with Bulimia half of my life. As a first child, my parents (especially my mother) had lots of expectations and I did not know how to handle. As strict and unexpressive(of love) there were, I felt always lonely and have nobody who understands me. I started taking immense comfort in food. I would hide in my room, eat bags and bags of crisps and throw up afterward. It wasn't always successful so the rest started forming as body fat. I was not obese but definitely stout. Being tubby as a kid, this habit did not help the situation at all.
My self-respect and confidence hit the rock bottom. I wasn't gregarious and outgoing as a kid, so I started hiding everything inside. What hurt me the most was that my mother knew these problems were crumbling down on me but did not do much. She briefly took me into the hospital for psychiatric help but did not continue. My core problem was with her. I struggled all my life to communicate with her. I just wanted her to understand me and accept me for who I am.
The symptom always happens when I am going through the stressful situation. The signal rushes through my body saying "alert, alert, you are under emotional pressure! eat some carbohydrate and calm yourself down!" When I start emotional binge eating, there is no stop until I end up in toilet trying to take everything out. Eating is not a bad thing. But this is. Bulimia is horrendous. I had days when I see blood on my vomitus. This has been killing me; mentally and physically.
I started treating my eating disorder as an addiction. I see lots of resemblance with the time I quit smoking cigarettes. I had to accept first that the addiction was problematic and harming my life. Denying or self-justifying won't help. I also had to take consideration that there might be a relapse and might take a while to completely get myself out.
What's different this time (because I tried stopping purging many many many times before...) is that I reconciled the broken/wounded relationship with my mother. It entailed buckets of tears, blood-boiling screams, painful past, etc... She confessed her thoughts and feelings that he had no idea her ignorance was killing me. She did what "she thought" was the best for me because she wanted me to have better life and opportunity than what she had with her life. In other words, she wasn't happy. Unhappy mother is a hard thing to have in life as a child. I am heading to my thirties now and just realising that I can't afford to let her unhappiness effect my happiness.
Now my mother is my best supporting system. She is the one who's telling me it doesn't matter how heavy/light I am. She loves me regardless and just wants me to be healthy. I would have never imagined to hear this from her before. Putting the past behind, we are focusing on stopping my deadly old habit. I am more open about this than ever before to family and close friends. I confessed to my roommate about Bulimia and asked her for a help. I asked her to keep cookies and crisps in a place only she can access. It was sort of embarrassing but I had to. ( guess it really indicate that I have no self control whatsoever when it comes to these types of food) I am trying to eat unprocessed food having veggies and fruits ready. (The food industry is absolutely disgusting. They process food so that you get addicted to it. I developed the new habit of reading ingredient labels and stay away from corn syrup and other additives.
I am still on a road to recovery. I know many of us are on the same road. Hope you know that you are not alone. All I can say is that, I won't give up until I beat this. I want to eat like a normal person. I want to be healthy. I want to be truly happy with myself.
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