The Art of Purging

It’s an art to be sick the way I am the way so many people are.  To hide it from the people we love and we do hide it so well.   We do it in the bathroom when no one is home.  We purge before we shower while the water is running.  We excuse ourselves from class when we’re feeling anxious.  We become lightweights who can no longer hold our alcohol, but that stigma is better than the alternative.  We get braver and find ways to go to the bathroom after a meal.  Its like a game in some ways to see if we can get away with it, but after awhile I got tired, I got sloppy.  I wanted to be caught, I begged to be caught, but I never was. 

People think they are so perceptive. They believe it would be easy to see the signs of their best friend, their sister, their daughter, living with an eating disorder right in front of them, but if someone does not want to be caught or even when someone does it is still very hard to see.   Don’t hold this against the people you love.  They want to see the best in you so even if they see all the signs of an eating disorder they won’t see the eating disorder itself. 

For this reason I urge you to seek help in your own time if you are living with an eating disorder do not wait for someone to get help for you, it may never come.  I know from my own experience that it is very hard to fight on your own.  I tried to do it, unsuccessfully, for eight years.  Seek out people who you can trust to be there to build you up and support you through what promises to be the toughest fight of your life.  It will be worth it.

My First Scare

  The room started to spin.  I felt anxious like I might never get through the pre-calculus test in front of me.  Everyone else in the class had started to finish but I was only halfway done.  I felt totally faint and then the Ms. Kenney’s class in the annex building at my old middle school went black.  The next thing I remember is waking up to an empty classroom with only the teacher still present.

  This is what I recall from that day, but friends recount something different.  I was taking the test and I was the last to finish, but I did turn the test in completed.  I didn’t look well though.  I was pale and sweaty.  When I sat back down after handing the paper in I laid my head down and went to sleep.  On the outside it just appeared that I was not feeling well.  No one realized the torment raging inside. 

  There was still another period left before classes ended for the day and basketball practice followed the school day.  I would not be attending either of these things that day.  I didn’t have the strength.  I could barely walk to the car when my mom arrived at school early to pick me up after being informed that I was ‘sick’.  They had no idea how sick I truly was.

  I made a miraculous ‘recovery’ that evening though after eating a snack at home and then a small dinner I felt completely normal again.  Who knew that food was all it would take to give a 14 year old, 5’2’’, 100 lb girl all her strength back?  Everyone would have known if only someone knew my secret.  I had not eaten a single bite of food in a good 2 days.   I had lost 40 pounds and grown 4 inches since my disease began 8 months before, but no one connected the dots.  This made part of me artificially glad that I could go on living to die.   It made a bigger part of me sad.  I felt more alone than ever that no one cared enough to see what was right there, all the evidence of my sickness displayed so clearly.  In retrospect I realize I wanted someone to find out my secret, but when no one did I instead had an excuse to continue.

...and so it began

This is how my story began maybe it's similar to yours or maybe it's as different as night and day. It does not matter.  What is important is that we have each other's experiences to learn from so we can all work towards recovery together, no matter where you might currently be along that path.  We don't have to do it alone.  

I was thirteen surrounded and alone.  I was naturally overweight (4’10” 140lbs) despite being always active with organized sports in the local community.  I wasn’t naturally gifted, but my type-A personality forced me to work overtime and excel at everything I did.  The only thing “wrong” with me was how I looked.  I was “fat”, I had acne, and I needed braces.  This was the end of my world at 13 and no one understood.  My dad was overweight, but he had perfect skin and teeth.  My brother had acne and braces, but he was perfectly thin.  My mom had acne growing up, but she had a perfect body.  I had the triple whammy and it was rough at the time.  Now it seems silly, but back then it caused me a lot of pain.  I was a perfectionist who couldn’t be perfect, but then again can anyone?  I felt alone in this battle. 

My dad was only concerned with work and I would soon realize was on the verge of an alcohol problem that still plagues me today.  My mom always tried, but she just had issues of her own.  My brother was at an age where he only cared about himself.  So you see I was alone.  My family didn’t talk about things that were real.  We loved each other, but we couldn’t see one another through the wall of our own pain so everyone was forced to deal with his or her own pain in his or her own way.  Alcohol and drugs, that’s what the others chose.  I wanted to go to law school so in my mind these were unacceptable coping mechanisms.  I chose differently.  I found my own way to “deal” with my emotions that also helped “fix” my physical imperfection. 

I started restricting.  It was really easy to hide at first especially with all the metal in my mouth.  I claimed I didn’t like to eat in public anymore and instead just didn’t eat at all.  I rapidly lost weight and everyone began to tell me how good I looked.  People even came up with excuses for me that I was suddenly growing into my body and had finally lost all my baby fat.  In a matter of a month I had lost an unhealthy 15 lbs and I was starting to hit my growth spur so it seemed like even more, but this was just the beginning.  Little did I know that this disorder would consume me for many more years to come developing more complex facets than I would have ever been able to predict from the start.  

<3 Annie

Introduction

  I consider myself to be a lot of things.  For starters, I am 22 about to start my first year at law school and I'm slightly terrified of the idea.  I’ve wanted to go to law school ever since I was 7 years old and now the dream is about to come true.  I’m also a sister, a daughter, a great friend, an athlete, a beach bum, a caffeine addict, a party girl, and a hopeless romantic who’s a bit jaded these days.  The adjective that I’m most consumed by these days, however, is bulimic.  Yes, I am bulimic and I have been since I was 13 years old.  It has been a secret burden I’ve carried around until recently.  In October 2010 I sought help and shared the secret for the first time in my life.  I entered into a new classification of recovering bulimic.  This is a stage that can be just as long and tormenting as when I was alone and no one knew at all.  I don’t know if or when I will be able to look back and say “I used to be bulimic”, but most days I do know I want to get to the point when I am a recovered bulimic. 

   I am going to be very vivid in the tellings of my story, but in doing so I do not wish for this blog to be anyone’s “thinspiration”.  I also do not wish to trigger anyone, but I know that it is a real possibility.  Please be aware of yourself in reading what I write. 

  These writings are only supposed to be an account of what I have experienced and continue to experience in my struggles with this disease.  I do not intend to discourage anyone, but to uplift.  Knowledge of others who are fighting eating disorders as well, no matter how different the story, can be very comforting.  No one has to struggle through recovery alone.  Let me share my story with you; the past secretive days and the present recovery days with a hope for the future.  I will be here for you and I hope I can depend on you to be there for me as well, Through Thick and Thin. 

<3 Annie Ames