Bulimia: I Thought I Was Smarter Than This

(Editor's note: This author wishes to remain anonymous. Learn how bulimia stories like this can save a life.)

I have never talked about stuff like this before to people I dont know. But after a year of throwing up everyday and experiencing other symptoms of bulimia, I have decided to try lots of different things to get better. To be happier. To remember what is was like to be excited about life. What triggered this bulimia recovery!? or why now!?

About 3 weeks ago, I got into a car accident. I rolled my van over down the street on its side, into a pole through a brick fence and then it tipped back over. This is only one in a string of events of a horrible year. This particular one just tipped me over. I was done. I was tired of the next thing and the next thing. I just wanted to be left alone to die. I was sitting in the hospital hoping something was wrong with me, hoping I had some type of internal bleeding or something was messed up enough to end everything. I was just so tired of all the ****. All the everyday struggles that I go through that no one knew about on top of the everyday life struggles that occur.

I am a single mother and had my son very young. So that in itself is a struggle. I work 60 + hours a week (this is me cutting back ). We just moved to a new country where my mother lives to try and make a fresh start 6 months ago after a bad string of events. ( my son was already with my mother)

When My Bulimia Started

I can't remember the exact day it happened. I was always very confident with my body. I was always healthy. You could say I was 5'3 and about 145-155. I always had moved up and down but I thought I carried it well and my outgoing personality and ability to fit into any situation ( we moved a lot) never left me wanting things like boyfriends. I used to watch those shows on Montell and Jenny Jones lol about girls with eating disorders and I never understood it. Why did girls care so much. It's not all about looks. I am not the most attractive but I was happy with myself.

Then, last year, I got 2 full time waitressing jobs and was working 90+ hours a week. I starting taking these energy pills to keep me awake and all of a sudden without me realizing it, the weight was falling of me. Before I knew it, the 8 I once wore was getting loose, then became too big, then I was in a 6! I had never been in a 6 my whole life.... then I became obsessed. Then my boyfriend started saying how much better he liked it. Said I wasn't fat anymore. I couldn't believe it. I didn't realize I was fat. I couldn't think of anything else but losing weight. I hardly ate and when I did I was throwing up everything. The weight fell off me. I went from a 6 to a 4 and then to a 2. At my thinnest, I was 113 lbs.

I Felt I Lost Control of My Life

My boyfriend was a gangster type ( we won't go into that ) but the life he led and forced me to lead made me stressed. My life was in chaos. I was robbed at gunpoint, got kidney stones, was so broke I couldn't afford to pay anything, was constantly arguing with him. My life was a mess. My weight was the one thing I could control. Nothing else around me was okay. I was at the lowest I had ever been. He controlled every aspect of my life: what we ate for dinner, what I bought, how clean the house was, when the laundry was done, where I went, how long I was gone for, who I talked to. Everything! I couldn't get out. I was so deep in. It got worse and worse. When we would fight, he would call me fat. He would put me down. It just made me feel worse.

My son was with my mom who was out of the country, so I could try and get my life together. I was running out of time and was trying to sort things out. Then, the worst possible thing happened. I found out I was pregnant. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't have another baby. I was in no mental state or financial state to look after another kid. I couldn't look after the one I had. And especially not with him. But when he found out, if I had tried to have an abortion, he would have killed me.

I did the only thing I thought I could do at the time. I made arrangements and ran away in the middle of the night. I moved my stuff out while he was at work. I had an emotional breakdown in the middle of my living room. I couldn't believe my life had come to this. Luckily, my friend was there to help me and drove me away to stay with him for a week. I was going to move overseas with my mom. Make a fresh start or so I thought.

Running Away From Your Problems Doesn't Solve Anything

Once I got there, I thought after I had sorted everything that I would stop worrying about my weight. I knew I was going to put some weight on and I thought I was okay with it. But then I realized I like being skinny. I like that guys looked at me wherever I went. I liked that, for the first time ever, I was referred to as skinny or little. I was the girl that when I told other girls I felt fat, they would just roll their eyes. I liked it and I was used to not eating, so keeping off the weight along with throwing up wasn't hard.

But then I met someone.... and when I was happy, I started eating more. I was struggling with putting on weight as fast as I lost it. Which caused me to eat more. I was spiraling out of control. It's all I could think about. Every time he and his family ate and gave me something, I literally felt like a fat failure.

Anyway, long story short, it actually got better for a while. Then he left. He had gotten in trouble before I met him and his court case was up after we met and he had to go away for a year. The depression took over me again and I couldn't control my binge eating. My comfort eating. The more I ate, the more I was never full. I could eat and eat. But it is getting harder and harder to throw up. It's like your body becomes resistant. Sometimes, I sit in the bathroom with my stupid toothbrush down my throat for at least an hour. So angry at myself and wanting to punch the wall or scream or worse cause I am so mad at myself for not being able to make myself throw up all the ****. I just ate.... cookies, cakes anything that gave me that instant gratification. Not only do I make myself throw up constantly, but I exercise obsessively. I park my car 45 minutes out of town. It's winter over here, so I walk 45 minutes to work and 45 minutes back in the cold and wind and rain. I can't stop cause if I miss even one walk, I feel TERRIBLE. It's not even worth it. I look in the mirror now and I see someone fat, someone who is disgusting, who has nothing to offer anyone. (read how bulimia support groups can help)

I am exhausted. I am tired of feeling like this. I either want to die or fix this cause I just can't live like this anymore. I told my mom about it finally after a year, cause I realised I couldn't do this alone. She is a psychologist and told me the reason I am not losing any weight; all the exercising and purging I am doing messes your metabolism up. So no matter what I do, I won't lose weight staying where I am .... continuing the way I am.

I want the old me back I want to be better again. I want to look in the mirror and see that same person that I once saw.

That is why I am writing this story. The more open I am about it the easier it seems to get. When I kept it to myself, I couldn't stop. Who could stop me if no one knew?

Three weeks ago, I did good for a week but then relapsed and made myself sick every day last week. I have started this week really trying. I have joined a gym, am trying to change my diet, and am hoping this is it. It's only been two days but I am hoping I am getting that girl back.

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