bulimia seems to be inevitable for every female on my mother's side, and neither of them think much of it, keeping it under control. their husbands consider it "normal." maybe it isn't so severe for them, because the concept of self-hate is almost unheard of in the backwood country that they come from. there is no obesity epidemic, and not too much pressure to be thin. people still cook for themselves and their families, and fatty food like mcdonald's tastes unfamiliar to the average citizen.

i can't understand, then, why self-hate and body image issues seemed to have originated in me, way before the insults started. i watched a home video of my 6th birthday party, and saw an ugly girl i didn't recognize. when i asked my parents who she was, they told me to stop being stupid. i regularly self-injured in secret by the time i turned 8. i was of normal weight until age 13. until then, i always found something to hate myself for- my voice, my hair, my eye color, and went to great extremes to change it. once i became overweight, i realized i'm not the only one who doesn't want to see me. my mother and i began to hate each other, calling each other names. this turned into an everyday thing. i knew she was bulimic, or something of the sort. i promised myself that i would never engage in such a disgusting activity. she wasn't very thin, anyway. the insults kept coming, though, so i began experimenting. it became a [frequency] thing. a girl in my 9th grade class who felt the need to teach me the swing of things told me to think of the "guy i really like kissing the girl i really hate." needless to say, it didn't work too well. i didn't become obsessed with food, and didn't lose weight. i couldn't understand things sometimes... there were girls a lot heavier than me who were loved, and who loved themselves.

every once in awhile, i'd starve. i didn't eat for [amount of time], when a boyfriend broke up with me. i liked the "control" it brought me, but i'd get hungry again. i liked food. i wasn't a compulsive eater, just uneducated about nutrition. a well- tended-to kid turned latchkey, with no idea how to cook. all my demons were exorcised in a lazy manner- smoking pot, overdosing on sleeping pills, x-actoing my arms.

then, at 16, something happened. i became infused with a strange sort of energy, bouncing from place to place at lightning speed. i started skipping meals. i was overflowing with "love" for someone i worked with, and people were hard to come by in my situation, so i wanted to be "beautiful" for him. he left, though, and the energy was all i had to comfort me when i cried. i wrote lots of poetry. i discovered ephedrine and took double dosages. the first few months, though, i had the best sleep ever. the grass was bright. the sky was blue. and the compliments made me feel like god. it's not like a thousand boys began waiting in line for me, but i wasn't afraid of being seen. i felt good in any type of clothing. i even wore a dress a few times. my daily intake consisted of [amount]. i threw up about [number] times a week, when nobody was home at 2 or 3 in the morning. i didn't "need" it then. i just did it as a "stress reliever."

i lost more weight, and did lots of ecstasy with a married man twice my age. my spirits were sinking, and quickly. i started getting blood sugar imbalances and lost my period. binging and purging was taking over my life, becoming my only solace. i didn't have many friends to begin with, but i became completely alone, lacking the energy to keep up with them. being afraid of breaking the routine. then, the sleep problems came... and then, the complications with throwing up.

everybody's system does different things. mine turned against me. out came the prescription weight loss aids. laxatives. more ephedrine. sleeping pills. a different remedy for each ailment. i didn't eat for [amount of time] at a time, and my heart did backflips before i went to sleep. i got sick early on... my frame is larger than normal. i wasn't that thin, but i felt so sick i couldn't hide it any longer. i started crying everyday, carving obscenities into my skin in the girls' room. my vision blurred, blinded by self-hate. i didn't have a "support system." i had my high school counselor talk to my dad about inpatient therapy, but he wouldn't hear of it.

i sought the companionship of eating disorder forums, but those made me feel even more alone. they didn't teach me to be bulimic/borderline anorexic, but made me hate myself even more for not looking sick enough, and for feeling so sick when i still had a "long way to go." before i started visiting the forums, i had my own "eating plan," where i was very hungry, but survived somehow. their eating plans were impossible, but i felt i had to follow them. before, i existed mainly on sugar, having to work, study, and go to school with barely any sleep. following their 'no excuses, carrot only' bullshit made it nearly impossible to exist.

last summer, when school ended, my eating disorder took an even more unpleasant turn. i boarded myself up in my house, compulsively overeating and mixing alcohol with sedatives. i could no longer take the weight loss aids. they made my heart beat faster than ever before. i got up to "normal" weight, but still wasn't ok. i moved in with my boyfriend and started college. he was good to me, and still is. i figured that if i can't be thin, i might as well stop. i still binged and purged, but less. i ordered prozac online.. i only took it for a short time, but it may have helped.. or i may have helped myself. i realized that i didn't miss not being able to sleep, or getting muscle spasms from occasional ipecac use, or all those other things associated with the tortures of the past.

as of today, i'm far from thin.. i hate clothes shopping... but i like to be able to lose myself in other things. when i was obsessed with food, it was always there. it kept me from doing simple things. a hedonistic nature is part of who i am. being able to enjoy gourmet food and alcohol in the company of friends brings me pleasure. i don't always accept myself, but there are others that do. unconditionally. i hope that i'll never have to turn to self-destruction again.

-radiowire

(http://radiowire.diaryland.com)

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