so two days ago marked the day that ive been free from the grasp of bulimia for a full year. no bingeing, purging. of course its been a battle, some days have been worse than others, but ive made it. with each passing day its become easier to resist the temptations and be able to say to myself that i can live a normal life without all the complications. i remember vividly each day that i battled for thinness, when it really didnt matter. i lost weight and when i got to my ‘ideal weight’ i decided it wasnt good enough. with bulimia nothing is ever good enough. no matter how skinny you become, your eating disorder is there in your head telling you that your still worthless, a fat cow, and that you dont even deserve the friends and family that you have. its an evil game that continues in a downward spiral and i hate the way it trapped my life. it took many things away from me and my family and im determined to never let it happen again. for most people bulimia, and other eating disorders, are a lifelong battle. im happy to be able to say that ive so far made it a full year. of course it took a while after the hospital for me to stop. ive had plenty of relapses but the important thing to remember is that you cant give in. i refused to let my eating disorder ruin my life. i wasnt destined to rot away sitting by the toilet. bulimia took so many precious moments from my life away and theres no other way to get those moments back than to never let it happen again. of course i still have my doubts, i dont love love love my body, and i very seldom have an urge, but ive made it this far so whats to say i cant make it all the way? i still feel comfort in bathrooms, but now i dont depend on the toilet or the release that came with it. i depend on myself, to make the right choices and decisions. i also have my friends and family to guide me through it all. ive been to hell and i promise you im never going back. and even if in the future i have a relapse or some kind of set back i will take it upon myself to see that it is only short lived. i deserve the most from my life and im not going to let some disease take it away from me.

oj oj oj. the hell i went through to get my life back. first step was telling my parents i was sick. the response i got wasnt what i expected, but then again can you expect anything? i told them i was sick and that i throw up a lot, so they naturally asked if i had gotten food poisoning. through my tears i told them that it was worse than that. i throw up several times, every day, for a while now. naturally they were shocked. i dont think my dad knew how to respond, he was quiet. mom asked me ‘what’s wrong with you’. i was mad at her at the time for being to careless and it took a while before i realized she didnt mean any harm by what she said and that she as well was shocked. i mean how can you not me? im sitting there telling them that i have been slowly but surely willingly killing myself everyday for the past couple of years. the first step was seeing a psychiatrist. she sucked. so why do you throw up? have any siblings? do you do well in school? oh you throw up THAT much? thats quite often. no shit you dumbass. im sitting here crying my eyes out trying to explain to some old lady why i have bulimia. if i knew i wouldve fixed myself. idiot. so after several tests they kindly explained that i was SEVERELY depressed and that they were sorry but they couldnt help me. great. now what? they recommended we try Children’s Hospital in Dallas. to me this sounded a bit far away and weird. by the time all this had happened things at home only got worse. my compulsive lying sure wasnt making things easier. i told my parents that some foods were easier for me to eat than others, lie. i never admitted to the drugs, another hidden lie. no matter what they tried, they tried so hard to help me. i still threw up. i think the first time my mom fully realized i was sick was when we bought a loaf of bread one afternoon, and when she woke up in the morning it was gone. i went on a binge and lets just say its like flushing money down the toilet. i couldnt control myself. it wasnt me in my body. it was like my eating disorder came into my body and mind and pushed me aside. i wasnt hungry, i didnt want to eat. yet in the middle of the night there i am standing with the fridge open shoving things into my mouth and sneaking food upstairs. im not going to say what i did to throw up because i dont want to trigger anyone or give any ‘suggestions’. i in NO WAY want this to help someone reach their ‘bulimic’ goals. its sickening and wrong, i suggest you get help before its too late. it doesnt have to consume you and your life. you can live happy. you can be free. all im going to say is that after all the years of throwing up, i didnt have to do anything anymore. all i did was bend over and it all came flowing out. mom took me to our family doctor one day and of course i had taken adderall that day. i didnt think about anything and they took blood tests and i had to pee in two cups. afterwards i realized, shit they are going to drug test me. it was too late to worry about that. mom got a call from the doctor saying they found non-normal amounts of various substances in my blood and pee. i tried to lie my way out of that too. ‘i only take adderall because it helps me study’, ‘its not a drug’, ‘i dont even feel it’. it didnt work. i dont remember all to well these months blurred together for me since i wasnt at my best state of mind and my body was not feeling to well. i did stupid stuff, i stole alcohol from my parents, and then when they found out and took it back, i took it back again. they found out and yelled at me and i tried to get out of it by saying it was my bulimia and i hate them for blaming me. wtf? what was i thinking. school was nonexistent. i sat there, and thats about it. i didnt talk to anyone, i just sat. i was a zombie. the morning of going to Children’s i got dressed in my normal school uniform. got ready, got in the car, had my backpack and everything. drank my daily red bull (sugar free of course). once we got there we had a meeting and everyone decided that inpatient would be the best thing for me. so i figured we’d choose a date when i could come back. no. thats not how it went. they stripped me of my belongings. no phone. no purse. nothing. mom and dad left and i was left alone in a scary place. we ate six times a day and at first i refused. i wouldnt do it. whenever my parents came i would bawl. tell them to take me home. i hated it there. it was ten times worse than hell. all the girls asked me whats your name? why are you here? and all i could do was cry, and cry, and cry. over time though things got easier. at the end of my ‘stay’ i was healthier. i could say my name and bulimia without even thinking about it. i was okay, i was going to survive. i would not let my disease get the best of me. it was the hardest thing ive ever been through my entire life, but i wouldnt be who i am today without it. i worked hard to get better, i did it with the help of my support network, family, and friends. i hope everyone out there suffering realizes that it doesnt have to be a lifestyle. you can change. you can live again. i hope you get the help. if you need help and dont know where to get it, leave a comment.. leave your name anonymous and just write your email. ill send you an email and try to help the best i can.