Oh God. I can’t believe I have to write about this again. So much shit going on in the world, and here’s my blog piece about me. Me and my disgusting compulsion to throw up. I’m not even binging anymore. Now, I’ve gotten to a point where I simply decide that I didn’t deserve to eat dinner or lunch—that I magically surpassed some Pythagorean number in my head that even I don’t know—and now, I must rid myself of it.
I do it furtively. I’ve learned that I can do it so quickly that most people don’t even notice that I’m gone longer than any other average trip to the bathroom to pee. I throw up. Give my teeth a quick brush. Rinse off my face. And go back out into the world as if I’m not dying inside.
I tell myself it’s this extra weight. The migraine meds have added 20 pounds or so to my 5’1” frame, and all I can see when I look in the mirror is a bloated, overweight middle-aged woman.
I’ve stopped looking in mirrors. I don’t want to see what I really look like. Don’t want to see the thickness around my waist that has made getting into my size 2 jeans impossible. Don’t want to look in the mirror and see the fullness in my face—those extra pounds puffing up my cheeks, hanging jowl-like along my chin line.
I don’t even want to make excuses for what I’m doing. I did that last time. Had a million and one excuses for why I’m a 45-year old bulimic.
What I know right now is that I’m a 45-year old liar. I promised my love several weeks ago that I would stop. And then, some combination—the bike accident, the Binghamton shootings, trouble with a family member, worrying about money—and all of those genuine feelings that needed to be dealt with honestly got filtered into the “I hate my body” shit. So I started throwing up again, and lying to cover it up.
I found a box of old journals the other night. I started reading through them—my thoughts from 25 years ago—and I had to stop. It was too painful. Whole sections on my body, where I had measured each of my body parts: thighs, ass, stomach, breasts, arms, to see how “huge” I was. I did it as research, as the beginning of yet another workout program that would get me buff and perfect.
I have been buff and perfect—several times in my life. It’s hard to stay there when you have other things in your life to tend to. Buff and perfect is for someone who has hours to spend every day working out. At one point, I was running every morning and taking aerobics classes every night—but who has got that kind of time anymore. And more importantly, WHY would I want to waste that kind of time trying to perfect my body?
I am loved. I know I am loved. I even manage to convince myself on a lot of days that I love myself. But still far too many days find that old, evil voice in my ear telling me I’m fat and unworthy and gross.
You don’t have to tell me how self-centered and ego-driven and pathetic this all is. I know that. I can feel the tough love part of myself emerging. She’s pretty pissed that we have to do this again. Stop the vomiting. Replace the vomiting with messages of compassion and love. Right now, she’s not feeling much compassion and love toward me. She wants to kick my ass, tell me to quit being such a stupid bitch and concentrate on the important things in life.
Quit—literally—staring at my navel, wishing it back to the place it is when I fit in my skinny jeans. Seriously, Lorraine, so much important shit going on in the world and I have to take time out, again, to make you stop beating the shit out of yourself?
Are you fucking kidding me? You’re 45. This stuff is supposed to be done. Has been done. Was done. So why is it back?
Please, by all that’s holy, please, don’t let me be writing shit like this when I’m 55 or 65 or 75.
I want to make peace with my body. Not the temporary truces I come to all the time. But everlasting, loving peace.
And I guess, goddamnit, it has to start with me.
I love you, Lorraine. DO NOT THROW UP YOUR GODDAMNED BREAKFAST. This is day 2 of your one-day-at-a-time program, and I’ll be fucked if I have to start counting all over again.
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Comments
Wow.
Your anger and frustration is justified. I'm sorry......very.
I'm not bulimic, but food is a constant battle for me. Some days I don't want to eat at all because it just seems like anything I eat is "wrong" or does disagreeable things to my body.
I have no advice to offer you, only love: that you're worth the effort, and the calories, and the admiration.
I've made an apppointment with my doctor to go talk to them about it.
I wrote this blog post out of shame this morning. I was trying to shame myself into not doing this anymore. I wish more than anything that I could take it down, make this whole thing my secret, because what I've written makes me look like an ass, a self-involved, selfish little asshole and that's not who I am.
I just find myself wanting to apologize to everyone right now.
This secret cannot remain as powerful once you shine the light on it. Keep being open and honest about your struggle. You can help people with allowing them a peek into your pain.
Bless you and find peace.
and doesn't inner beauty count more anyway?
My GOD stop it with the purge thing!
Persephone: yeah. I know. pathetic.
mamoore: thank you for the wish for peace.
Lisa: I promise that I have.
Leonde: thank you for loaning me your heart.
Coyote: thanks for the hug.
cartouche: you're right. I need to advocate for myself.
Lisa: thank you for telling me I'm worth it.
ladyfarmer: thanks. i don't feel courageous, but thank you for saying I am.
I met a woman once who probably weighed 90 pounds. she was telling me, after an AA meeting, how fat she was, and I remember thinking, "that's fucked up." Suddenly, I'm seeing that I'm that person. I guess the madness stops here. Thanks.
Love, M
If this were medieval times, you'd chain yourself up in the center of town and publicly flagellate yourself till you lay exposed in a puddle of bruised shame.
To me, you don't sound like an asshole, or selfish, or self-involved, or anything remotely like it. You sound like a very intelligent, highly-talented, probably very attractive woman who also happens to be human, and who feels she needs to be intensely, harshly punished for it.
I hope you can see yourself through kinder eyes soon.
Its hard for me to read this and feel empathy for you.
Because I know body dysmorphia is no joke, and that THAT is what you are really seeing...I am able to feel your pain and wish for peace for you.
The fact that you are so fucking smart, so wise, so thoughtful and yet chose to beat the SHIT out of yourself like this makes me angry.
At you.
Yeah. Not very nice, not very nice of me at all.
But I will tell you what. I am glad you posted this...I am glad your internal landscape is a mix of shame and sadness and hope and self loathing, because its so fucking AWFUL what you are doing to yourself, the people who love you, and your beautiful fucking HEAD I want this to HURT VERY BADLY INDEED.
So much that you get ALL the help you can and stop it right the fuck now.
You are a feminist I admire. Please stop this.
I'm sorry if I sound awful. Anyone wants to chew me out for this can write me privately and leave Lorraine's blog out of it. Don't expect a kind response.
but i have to go teach now. and go back to work. i'll check in later. and I swear, i swear, i won't throw up today.
Hang in there sweetie, goddammit.
There are counselors who are specialist in this field and can help you love your body and stop killing yourself from the inside out. There are number you can call for help.
Please Lorraine stop doing this to yourself. {{HUGS}}
I know what you are going through, been there done that. You have to start with you, love you..
And you had better stop beating yourself up. I am a mere hour and twenty away, and I will come there and gitchoo if you don't.
Hang in there, sweetie..goddamn it to hell this fucking fuck all stupid woman body hating shite...fucks with someone as smart as you! FUCK THAT!
The second thought is that women's bodies tend to gain as we age, and I had a post on menopause ( which you probably aren't ready for yet) that explores the idea that our body changes are natural, and maybe we shouldn't try to overcome that. Who cares what other people think about our bodies, we are not the flesh that surrounds us, we are the heart and the soul and the spark. And your spark of life is strong. Keep it going.
It sounds like the root of this current bout of bulimia is in the migraine medications (which has caused the weight gain), but taking this a step further, what's causing the migraines?
I learned to control my own migraines by immediately looking at what was happening in the very moment I'd get the aura. I was in therapy at the time with a therapist who was very psychoanalytical, and I found that by dealing with the deep conflict in the moment, I took the issue from my subconscious into my conscious mind, and that stopped the migraine event.
Dr. John Sarno at NYU has cured thousands of patients of back pain by helping them see the mind/body connection, or put more simply, by helping them see that their pain is actually repressed rage. He said he never set out to prove Freud's theories, but that's what's happened.
He's now saying that many forms of pain are related to repressed rage. Even if you don't know what you're angry about, "outing" what your mind is doing to your body can often be a cure. I'd highly recommend "The Mindbody Prescription," which is just one of his many books. It's a good overview of his philosophies.
If you can get med-free relief from your migraines, you'll eliminate the weight-gain side effect, which in turn triggers your bulimia.
It can't hurt to check out Sarno's theories.
My heartfelt prayers go out to you.
i'm going to a meeting tonight. i think i need to be in the rooms for a while.
i'm sending love back to all of you who are sending love to me.
i'll pm all of you when i get a minute
You need treatment for the long-term. Do you know that I used to tell my patient's parents who wanted me to "fix" their daughters? In the best case scenario, improvement is in 3 years, then 6 years, then 12 years. So it is a process that you have to be in for the long haul. And you just can't will yourself out of it.
Please, please, please get some help. See your primary care doc to make sure your electrolytes and heart are OK. Call an ED treatment center and have an evaluation and throw out any scales that you might have.
Please!
denese
And I have to address the fact that a lot of us are focusing on the "you're so not fat" aspect of this. Bulimia is a lot more about controlling what feels out of control in your life than it is about fat or dieting. It is not a disease of vanity. There's more to it than that.
Know that we believe this and please let that knowledge help cradle you as you fight your urges to give in. YOU have it in you and I know you CAN do this. (((((big hugs))))
Much more than that....I think people mention it more about it being so saddening that it can happen to someone of really...any size. Its hard to imagine, in spite of it not really being ABOUT size.
Hmm...clear as mud, that was.
But the first step is that I am powerless. Not powerless in that I can't stop doing it. I can stop doing it, but powerless in that I can actually think my way right into "you should do this because it's a good thing." Powerless because my squirrely smart brain can convince me that throwing up is good for me.
The good news in all of this is that this latest bout of bulimia has only lasted about 6 days. It means that I'm getting much better at knowing when I'm in crisis and when I have to surrender. I've had periods in my life where I threw up in secret for months. This, believe it or not, is progress.
I am, quite frankly, stunned by the love that has poured over me in these comments. I can read these comments over and over and realize that bulimia is a selfish act, because it's not about me, it's about the people I'm hurting by doing this. I hide this from my daughters because I never want them to know I have an eating disorder. I never say anything to them about their weight or mine. But in my head, I constantly measure myself. The funny thing about this is that I can get down to 115 pounds, where I feel comfortable, and if my life is shit, it's still shit. It's an illusion that losing weight will make me happy. But that's the definition of insanity: doing the thing over and over again expecting a different result.
As humiliating as it has been for me to vomit all over the screen my dark secret, I'm already feeling better. too many people know now, and I am accountable to too many people to risk doing it again.
I am grateful beyond measure to all of you.
As to the migraines, well, that's a quandary. The migraines make me throw up naturally. Sometimes, when I have a migraine, I convince myself that if I make myself throw up, I'll feel better. That's how this latest bout started. I felt sick from the migraines so I started throwing up. And once I started, I couldn't stop.
But I'm stopping now.
The funny thing is that I have friends whom I consider voluptuous--they have full hips and breasts and I think they are beautiful. Why can't I see that in the mirror?
I'm a feminist who knows that this is how our society keeps women preoccupied with the shit that doesn''t matter. And yet, I do it anyway. What does that say about how deep these messages are?
I'm no longer hysterical. I'm calm. Removed from the problem enough to feel as if I can tackle it. Starting with a meeting. And going from there.
And for those of you out there who are dealing with eating disorders, know that if you need to talk, I'm here. Imperfect as I am, I've been there, done that, fall off the wagon, but get back on it again. I guess I'm only human.
I picture all of the self-destructive addictions as demons, something standing apart, squinting hatefully, gleefully, while the body they possess jumps to obey their every taunt, against the will of the body's rightful owner.
I hope you'll find the strength and voice to turn to your demon, look it in its disgusting red eyes, and roar "FUCK YOU! OUT. Out of my body. It's MY body, not yours. And from this day forward, I am deaf to you, motherfucker."
And then, I want to savor the image of your demon, banished to a place of unholy suffering--a place where it exists, locked away in a basement you created, chained up, still whimpering, but never, ever being rewarded by acknowledgment ever again.
I hope you'll kick your demon in the teeth tonight in the rooms, and tomorrow in the morning, and at lunchtime, and at dinnertime, and keep kicking that sorry bastard in the teeth every day for the rest of your life.
I have been flirting with fertility more than exercise for the last four years. Now in my third pregnany, with the usual morning sickness that directs my food choices and limits my exercise (well, limits it to zero), I look back on those bulimia days with distance and a sense of confusion about what drove me to want to eat myself sick and voluntarily throw up.
Throwing up sucks! And when you throw up during morning sickness, it is the unwanted violent kind of heaving with chills and shaking like you get during the flu-- and maybe gives you little burst blood vessels around your eyes and lips making your face all spotty. And sometimes if you have already had a few kids, your pelvic muscles are shot and vomiting makes you pee yourself a little bit. And the throwing up comes as you are gaining weight and swelling and getting bigger, it has nothing to do with a vain (and vain!) attempt to control one's weight.
Anyhow, I am sending you compassion and hoping you can resolve the underlying problems that are making you punish your body right now. You're right, you're too old to be doing this. You were too young before, and now you are too old. (In the sense, you should know better). And also, too young. You're only 45! You aren't middle aged until you are in your 60s (so sayeth my baby bommer parents who hopefully will live to be 120 and healthy!).
Next time you eat, just let the food sit in your stomach. Treat it as a sort of meditation. Like, when you close your eyes in meditation, you need to work to be still, let the distractions float away rather than swatting at them. Just let the food stay there, trust your body will only take the nutrients it needs and discard the rest.
If you really can't do that, it is probably because the migraine medication is playing havoc with your brain. Eating disorders do change brain chemistry-- or brain chemistry changes result in eating disorders. The science isn't clear-- but there is definitely correlation if not causation.
Be kind to yourself. Thanks for reaching out.
This was so hard to put this out there, but you responded with such love and caring, I'm overwhelmed. This community is awesome.
I'm very tired. Sleep will come easily tonight. I love you all.
I just need to add my two cents here before reading all the other comments. First and foremost, I admire you. And by that I mean the whole package of you that I've gotten to "know" on here over the last few months. I can't even pretend to know the brain glitch that leads to bulimia so I can't really speak much to that aspect of your post. But what I can and must say is that you have helped many on here with your advice, strength, power, humor, intelligence, and love. I have specific posts in mind for each of those adjectives and none are used lightly. There have been many times I've thought how I'd love to live closer to you because you'd be a wonderful influence on me. I've been jealous of your daughter. I've lived vicariously through your words and never once have I clicked away without being quite affected. And I realize that you could probably take all this and end up thinking "great, now I have an image to uphold". But I don't think you will because you're a damn smart woman. We all have our shames and our weaknesses so you are most certainly not alone in that. I send you whatever real and virtual strength and love I can to help get you through this time of really tough shit.
;-)
Monte
I have struggled with similar medication-related issues, little tiny pills that seem to suck calories out of the atmosphere, inflate them and attach them in lumps on various body parts. It doesn't seem fair to be defeated by something like that, especially in the course of trying to get one's body under control in another way. Just keep writing, please, and we'll keep listening. Don't take this underground. That never helps.
One of the worst things about bulimia is that so many people - including the sufferers - see it as a sign of weakness, a simple failure of will, when it is so much more than that. Anyway, you inspired me to post the story of my own struggle with bulimia. I guess writing and purging might have more in cathartic common than I ever realized... Hang in there.