**This post could be very triggering in that it's very raw and emotional**
I've been wanting to post about this for a while, and really feel like I need to get it out. I have not told a soul about these feelings, I think, because I'm trying to deny them because it feels so awful.
Last post I talked about my fear of my bulimia. When I started throwing up, it was only after binging (reward for being at my lowest weight), other than that I ate very little. But I, like a lot of people do, gained weight from this over time, not lost. I was to say the least pissed, in that I discovered this new addiction I liked and despised at the same time, but it made me maintain/gain weight. It made that option to binge even more tempting, my body craved it. I had been severely restricting before purging so my body was wanting to gorge on mass amounts, even when I wasn't the least bit hungry. I was 'filling' something inside of me that I didn't know how to, which scared the ever living shit out of me. I felt insane.
When restricting, I was to say extremely bitter, numb and angry. But food was in my 'control.' The first time I binged, I had not planned to purge, as all my life I've had a phobia of throwing up. I ate so much, but could not finish all I had bought. This pissed me off. I got so full it hurt to breath, my heart was racing uncontrollably and I started to panic. I was crying, and I knew laxatives wouldn't get it all out soon enough. So desperate, I tried so hard to gag and throw up, it worked. I had an extreme rush, an "Omg I just did that." with a sick satisfaction. Two minutes later I was bawling again and then thought "Omg I did THAT! SHIT! I'm out of control." I immediately thought okay, I won't do it again. I felt so ashamed. I knew how bad bulimia is, in that I had a friend in High School who fell into it, loosing 40lbs, and now is around 95lbs today. She though, can vomit with just bending over and letting it fall out (she initially purged everything she ate.) I'm actually very blessed it did not come that easy to me. God I really am. So strange in that while in school, I was her only friend, felt extremely bad for her, and thought how sad it was, and how sickly she appeared. Bruises up and down her legs, chest bone out further than her boobs. I wanted to save her. I developed my Ed 3 years later. She knows about it. She wants to end but is addicted, and I'm sure scared as hell to be without it.
Time went on and I was binging and purging more often. I would cancel massage clients to leave and binge. After purging I would need to sleep for at least 8 hours. My head was a fuzz. Always the same thoughts, "That is the last time, I swear." So every time after that I felt even more a failure in going back to it, because I could not keep that promise to myself. I felt more than terrible, weak, and despicable. I felt I was wearing a sign that said 'I throw up my food.'
My huge shame is that, once my Ed paralyzed me so much, that I was in bed crying at my apartment, calling my dad, telling him that I did not know what to do anymore, didn't know how to live. He came over and I told him I needed to go to the hospital, I think. Am I really that bad? I need to suck it up. No I'm going to kill myself if I don't do this. I am so embarrassed to say, if the bulimia had been making me loose weight, I really don't think I would have broke down and sent myself to the hospital...the bulimia made me feel out of control and hopeless. Anorexia felt powerful, yet I was lonely, miserable and angry. But I was 'skinny.' Felt skinny, wanted to get more skinny. Bulimia went against this, and I knew going into in patient would stabilize my weight. How sad is that? Going to the hospital so you don't GAIN any more weight?!!?
The hospital was the best thing for me, in that it did regulate my eating. Let me focus on my emotional state, got me closer to my family, gave me hope. I got my life back.
I know what set my mind to binging the other day. I couple days back I was curious to weigh myself, and did not expect such a low number to appear. It felt good. Thing is, prior to recovery if I weighed myself and was at an 'okay' number, it was like permission for me to binge/purge. Almost like "Well don't get too skinny! You can afford it this one time, it will be fun." That's how messed Eds are. Anything to get that feeling, even knowing the outcome is horrendous. I really tried my damn hardest to stop the bulimia only once I realized I wasn't loosing weight. Seeing that low number clicked something off in my head. Possibilities. From that, I'm doing my best to carry on, eat, stay away from the scale. That day, unintentionally, I gave the power to the scale to tell me how I felt. It told me, damn nice, better keep eating the way you are, minus some, than you can get even smaller! How exciting is that! You felt great all around before you knew that number, why not loose some more? It couldn't do any harm.
For all to know, I am okay. No restricting/binging/purging. Just these very active thoughts and my shameful (to me) confession. I hadn't felt more selfish in my Ed when I decided to put myself in the hospital. Shameful that if I had stayed skinny and gotten more thin I would have continued on. That I'm entertaining the thought of how great anorexia would feel again.