Tired of "living" like this! My bulimia story from start to finish
This will be the first time I've ever really talked about this in detail to anyone.
I've been bulimic for about 5 years (wow, has it really been that long already?) But I guess my story really starts when I was just a little girl.
I've always been very thin. I was one of those girls who could sit and eat anything and still weigh very little. In a way I kind of feel this was my identity - the skinny girl. If I wasn't the skinny girl anymore, than I wouldn't be me.
Anyway, I was very active growing up and did many extra curricular activities that were manly based on being judged by appearances, being skinny and beautiful became so important to me.
My friend's mother had told me once that she was bulimic at one time and I remember her telling me how awful it was and how terrible she felt. She told me she overcame it for the most part but still had days every now and then where she would relapse. I remember wondering why anyone would do something like that to themselves.
I also remember my mom trying diet after diet and getting down on herself for allowing herself to become overweight. She had been very thin like me when she was my age. I remember her telling me that she hoped I would never have to worry about my weight like she does. I also remember her telling me one time that she hoped if she lost weight and got skinny again, maybe she would be loved more. At the time I thought this was absurd, my father adored my mother as well as me and my siblings. I had no idea why she felt like she wasn't loved enough but somehow I think when she said that I started to wonder if being skinny meant being loved more.
Anyways, fast forward to my junior year of high school. I had been crazy in love with this one guy for the past 3 years and finally that year we moved our "relationship" to a physical level. I gave him my virginity and at the time I felt like I couldn't have been happier. Long story short, after graduating that year he packed up and left town for college in another state, and took my broken heart with him. I spent 4 years crazy in love with this guy and he effortlessly left me behind.
I spent that summer depressed and stayed locked up in my room, listening to the CD's he had given to me over and over again, wishing and hoping he'd come to his senses and come back. During this time I gained about 15 lbs. How this happened I'll never know. I didn't change my diet or anything but somehow still gained that much weight.
Im 5'2 and at the beginning of the year I weighed X and when I went to get my physical examination I weighed X. I remember on the way home from the doctor my mom lectured me on how I needed to start watching what I ate, because gaining 15 lbs in such a sort amount of time wasn't good. I know my mom was just looking out for me and didn't mean to make me feel bad... but she did.
After that I told myself I was going to start dieting. I found diet pills in my older sister's bedroom and started taking them. I also started to restrict myself one what I was eating.
A month later I started band camp where I met my next boyfriend (who was 100 X's better than the previous guy btw) and during the week of band camp where we stayed at a college I had very little appetite. As a result I didn't eat much the entire time we were there and when I came home I noticed my clothes were fitting a little looser. It felt amazing.
After that I started to restrict what I was eating more and more. I told myself I wasn't going to allow myself to eat any more than X calories a day. If I ate X calories, I was a failure.
On the first day of my senior year a friend I hadn't seen in a few months asked me if I'd lost weight. I told her no, because at the time I didn't really think I had. After that I started to eat less and less. I ended up eating about X calories a day.
A began to lose so much weight and people started to question me and comment on how skinny I was.
I also still remember my boyfriend wrapping his arms around me and feeling my bones sticking out and giving me the most shocked look I'd ever seen in my life. My parents were also starting to worry about me.
One day, during a blood drive at my school I decided to donate. I went into the gymnasium to fill out the paper work when two fellow students who were volunteering to help stopped me and told me I had to weigh at least X lbs in order to give blood. I remember being confused and told them that I weighed X and should be able to donate. They both looked at me like I had corn stalks growing out of my ears. A teacher then walked over and suggested I go to the nurses office and weigh myself, and if I weighed X or more than I could donate. So I went to the office, fully convinced the scale would read X. I stepped on it, and it read X lbs. X lbs! I didn't believe it at first so I stepped off of it, then stepped back on it and once again it read X lbs.
A month or two later I remember sitting in my room and my dad tossing me a small bag of my favorite chips. He knows they're my favorite and would get them for me from time to time. I remember thinking those chips looked soooo good. I told myself I would allow myself to eat just a couple and that would be it. However, I ended up enjoying those chips so much that I devoured them all in a matter of minutes. Horrifed with myself and feeling like a fat failure, I went into the bathroom to check myself out in the mirror. It was while I was in there that I remembered a trick I had heard about before.. one that involved throwing up and ridding yourself of the guilt. So without thinking I turned towards the toilet, stuck my finger down my throat, and vomited.
I remember telling myself that I would never ever do it again. I remembered my friends mom and the torment she said she'd gone through when she suffered from the disease. I knew I was treading dangerous waters.
Then a couple weeks later I remember feeling SO hungry. I kept craving peanut butter and jelly sandwhiches. I finally broke down and made one, and even poured myself a glass of chocolate milk. I ate and drank this wonderful meal slowly, savoring each bite and to this day I still think it was the best thing I'd ever eaten. I felt like my body was caving around this delicious sandwhich. When I was finished I still didn't feel satisfied. I wanted another one, badly. So I made another and ate it too, it tasted even better than the first. After this, I started to feel so guilty and without thinking, I went to the bathroom and vomited, telling myself that it would be the last time I'd ever do it....
But it wasn't. I started to realize that I could eat ANYTHING I wanted and still be skinny. All I needed to do was "get rid of it". It started out as something I'd do every now in then when I felt like I ate too much, and led up to me eating everything I could get my hands on and getting as full as possible and then throwing it all up.
I started to gain some weight back and this horrified me. I decided to stop and go back to the eating plan I had before, only I couldn't. The urge to binge was too great, and once I binged I just had to purge too.
My parents suspected and would try to ask me about it, but I always lied and told them I was fine.
That fall, my boyfriend and I broke up due to me going to a college that was far away and even though the break up was mostly my idea, it still broke my heart, which made the b/p urge greater.
I would sneak into the dorm bathrooms and vomit everything I ate, and nobody, not even my roommate noticed. It was during this time that I met my now husband.
Two summers ago, during drunk nights I opened up to a couple people (including my now husband) and told them my secret. Never in detail though and to this day I don't think my husband knows just how bad it was or that I still suffer. I've never really talked about it to anyone other than those times.
There was a point where I was starting to feel like I would never recover from this and I was starting to convince myself to just accept the fact that I was just going to die from it. Pretty terrible thinking huh?
This past summer I actually felt like I was getting a little better. I started to train for a half marathon and by doing so I felt comfortable eating normally and was able to lose weight in the process (I'm at a normal weight now) I actually went quite a while without bingeing and purging. However, after the race was over and I stopped training, the urge has come back. I've decieded I wanted to run a full marathon next fall but training for it wont start until spring. Right now it's too cold to head out and run every day and as a result I feel like I'm losing the runners body I was achieving and this scares me. Not to mention it's also Christmas which means there are way too many trigger foods around.
For the past two weeks I haven't been able to go a day without b/p and it sucks. I felt like I was getting better but now I'm relapsing. I'm no where near as bad as I was before but I want to be completely free of this monster. I guess the good news is I am better than what I was. I'm starting to realize that being healthy is more important than being skinny (the idea of possibly one day not being skinny anymore still terrifies though) and I'm also starting to realize that the >X lbs I once was was NOT good and not attractive. I see these as positive steps, however, I still can't get over the uncontrollable urge to b/p. It's like I'm truly addicted to the feelings the process gives me.
Anyways, I'm hoping that by reading others stories (and realizing recovery is possible) and trying the tips given on this site I'll truly be free of this. I've never told this full story to anyone and I realize it's super long and probably boring to anyone who may read it, but I feel better now that I've got it all typed out, which is an accomplishment enough right now.
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