***A Day In The Life Of A Bulimic

The way I learned to handle my feelings has not been to feel. One of the ways I learned to make this happen was to think about something different. For instance, I looked forward to getting some candy through the little store going home from practice. I would receive a cola pop and a frosted pastry or candy.

I always felt better when I ate that. Little did I know that I was opening a floodgate of addiction using this type of newly learned coping behavior. I gained weight and decided to go on a diet. I would go with days eating nothing or almost no. I lost many weight. Then there are days when I needed to eat. Once I did, I could not quit. Eventually I progressed from anorexia to binge eating to bulimia and ultimately to whatever would make me numb.

The first considered that comes to me upon awakening is really what I did yesterday evening. I check my stomach to make certain my pelvic bones will be the highest point and my stomach is concave. They aren’t. I use the lavatory and then weigh myself. This is the to begin several times I will be stepping for the scale today. Some people read their horoscope.

I read my scale. The number for the scale is within direct proportion to how I will feel today. Before I get in the shower I check myself in the full-length mirror. I feel disgusted. My thighs are touching and my stomach is herniated. I place on my makeup carefully, avoiding considering my eyes.

When I do explore my eyes, I feel such loathing and disgust. I get so shaky that it’s difficult to put my mascara on. I hate myself. I dress impeccably. People inform me I am beautiful, but I don’t believe them. If they only knew! I glance at the clock inside car to see that I am already late for work. Anxiety floods my figure.

I make-up a story to express to my boss about why I am late again. When I get moving, I try to get at my desk unnoticed. Someone brought donuts today. I elect to have one. It tastes so competent. I savor the sweetness. I try making it last however the donut disappears too fast.

I’ll have yet another one, I think, seeking to recapture that sensation I felt together with the first bite. But it doesn’t taste like this. I keep thinking the following bite is going to do the trick. The second donut disappears faster compared to the first. What have I done, I must remove it. I go to the toilet and vomit.

I return to my desk acting like nothing is wrong. My self-talk starts. “Who are you wanting to fool, You don’t understand what you’re doing. You will never have this done in time.” I think concerning the donuts. That will make me feel much better. I go in to the break room and eat one, then another and another. I make certain no one sees me.

I feel as if I am within a different place, zoned out and calm at long last. Someone can be purchased in and asks the place that the donuts are. I seem like a trapped rat and I must vacation to my rut of empting my stomach. I go home for lunch. I don’t want that you see how much I eat. I drive with the fast food take-out window and order just as if it’s for the entire office, but I eat everthing.



I even buy extra drinks to restore look like your order is for several people. I eat within my car and rush the place to find purge. I am late for work. My boss calls me into her office and tells me if I am late again you will have consequences. I think about stopping in the bakery and ordering six chocolate chip cookies and six more with nuts.

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