The Letter ‘C’

Letter ‘C’ 2

I’m Lying here in bed tonight,
Wondering if everything will be alright.
See, I have this stuff in my breast,
And they keep doing test after test.

Doctor’s Are trying to get me ready for the big day,
Will they get it all? Will they make it go away?
All of these questions linger in my mind,
Why in me, did this they have to find?

I don’t understand, I keep asking why?
Will I live? Will I die?I worry all the time,
I can’t sleep, I can’t eat. I wonder if this thing I can beat?

I seem to shake and tremble all the time,
But to all that see me, I look fine.
I’m not fine, I’m scared and I want to cry.

But I don’t have time, I have to fight, I have to try,
to take some control of this stuff inside me,
and this stuff begins with the Letter ‘C’.

My years of torture: a personal story

My years of torture!

I’m 16 years old and I was bulimic for four years of my life. It all started when I started getting taller and my weight just went out of control.

At first, I just started cutting down on meals but then it went to skipping them. Then one day I saw this girl on the television talking about her eating disorder(she was bulimic) and I thought I would give it a go.

Keep in mind that I was only ten when it all started. At first, I would eat a larger dinner than any other 10 year old my age. I would eat all of my dinner and then go straight to the bathroom.

Soon enough, my parents started to notice my weight loss so I started to eat half of my dinner, purge and then finish the rest and then do the same thing. My disorder got so bad that I started passing out and puking up blood. Thankfully, I decided to stop for my health, if nothing else. And I did.

But then when I was 15, I got very depressed and the pounds started to pile back on. Soon, I was back to my old self. It’s been over a year and I’ve come to realize that I don’t need to be skinny to be happy or feel good about myself.

If you are reading this because you are going through the same thing, or if you know someone who is, just tell them that it is what’s on the inside that count.

Forcing myself to puke

In Big Trouble

I am 24 and I think I’m in big trouble. I’ve been forcing myself to puke on a regular basis since middle school.

I think it started around puberty, when all my friends cared so much about how they looked.  Now, it’s not so much for weight loss as it is for a feeling of control.

I have acid heartburn every day.  My dentist noticed the wear on my teeth. I told him I have reflux.

I’ve thrown up at every place with a bathroom in town. I run the water at my mom’s.  My fiance doesn’t have any idea. My cheeks are always puffed and swollen. I grind my teeth at night.  I can throw up on command.

I think I’ve got a lot of issues. I’ve had a bad run of things.  No one would ever know, by looking at me, that I’ve got years of bulimia and substance abuse under my belt.

Anyways, I don’t know where to start.  I don’t want to tell anyone. I don’t want to go to the doctor.  I am scared.

Eating disorders: Try.. and try Again

Try.. and try Again

Life has always been to me about the expectations. It was always about what I was going to be, what I hadn’t achieved yet, who I was going to make proud, or what size I was going to get down to.

I never lived in the present. The present was like this scary space full of emotions, that I wasn’t ready to deal with, and all I wanted to feel was numb. I couldn’t handle being alone, with nothing to do, and with everything to think about that I had dreaded for so long. So, I ate and ate and ate. Until I felt that the void had been filled and my body was "full" and then I raced to the toilet. I prayed that I could make my body feel the same kind of pain that was eating me up inside. Sometimes, I purged and thought about someone finding out or just someone seeing me!

But, my mother and friends loved me so much that they wanted to believe I was okay and I didn’t want my image to deteriorate into someone with "problems." So, I continued to hide behind the food and mask the feelings. I even thought about flushing the problems down, like my parents’ divorce would actually disappear if I could just "get everything out."

I’d liked to say, someone reached out and showed me the light. I’d like to say, I saw that I was hurting myself and that I realized being "perfect" was a way to mask my feelings of insecurity and being out of control, but that didn’t happen. Instead I slipped into my eating disorder even further.

Eventually, I didn’t feel enough pain to go numb, so I started drinking. I drank and realized I got the same numb feeling as purging, except with drinking, I also got the attention I was seeking, but unfortunately it was from drunken guys.

I watched myself, like some cruel lifetime movie, about a girl’s hardship in adolescence. And then I woke up.

By this point, I had let myself fall into the pit of despair, submission, and sexual abuse, by someone I trusted. My best friend. So, I closed my eyes and walked blinded away, into the darkness and found a unnerving close friend, ecstasy.

And life went on. I watched two years of high school go by, and I watched my pay checks be eaten, almost literally.

To most peoples’ ignorance, my grades stayed above a 3.75, and I still played sports competitively and rode my horse. Yet, inside I was crying every day. At night I ate "beans" and waited for the feelings of a false "self-love" to kick in. I waited to feel beautiful and dreaded the sun because the pill was gone, the new intimate friends had gone home and I again was left alone with the naked, real me. The me that secretly puked away my food. The me that hated myself. I felt the anger and rage and hatred dissolving every part of my personality. I didn’t know who I was anymore.

So, like every hopeful swimming in a pool of pain, I thought I’d move away from it all. I moved from Florida to Wisconsin with my father and little brother and started class at a close-minded small Midwestern school. I walked the halls in a daze, not knowing anyone or even myself. I reclused into my space of self-loathing and eventually began to cry in classes. Student’s looked at me like I had some sort of mental illness. And then a sweet caring girl asked if I was okay. She actually looked at me, into my eyes and hugged me. She introduced me to my English teacher, an understanding older man and about three months later after he had been asked every day how I was doing (yes, sometimes that one little question is all a person needs to feel like someone is there for them) I asked for help. He immediately hooked me up with a great counselor and I "recovered." (I was 17 and a half and this had been going on for four years.) Then I moved back to Florida and began college. I met a boy and we moved in together

I found out his mother had been 95 percent clogged and had she not gone for a check up she would have died. I became so scared, and realized I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to abuse myself anymore. I didn’t want to feel alienated from my peers and hide in the corners of my apartment. I wanted to be healthy. I had gone from bulimia to an out of control over eating obsession. Hiding behind that eating was "good." All the while, I was still masking the pain of my youth that I hadn’t wanted to deal with, the insecurity, feeling of abandonment, inferiority to my little brother, feelings of failure, rape and self-hatred. So, I went to my school office and began counseling-again.

The reason I am saying this is because sometimes things don’t work out the way you want. Expectations can be a huge disaster and eating disorder recovery is hard, but there is a road to recovery, even if it takes more than one try. You have to want to learn to live again and want to learn to love yourself. So please fight for yourself or at least reach out to the ones that love you.

P.S. For all of you that are our loved ones and friends, please reach out to us, because sometimes we aren’t strong enough to ask for help.

Thank you for reading my story

Beating my eating disorder at 22

Beating my eating disorder at 22

I am 22. I have finally begun to beat my eating disorder, seven years after it began.

When it started, I was 15 and it felt like I was constantly high. I was starving myself, and I was already really thin. Not eating for six days made me light-headed and groggy and for some sick reason, that made me happy.

Now, looking back, I can see I was in a lot of pain and looking for something to distract me from my life. I could only keep up the starvation for so long, and when people started to notice I wasn’t eating enough, I began to eat to make them happy, and then I would throw it up.

I didn’t know what a habit it would turn into. Starving had been glamorous in my twisted mind, but bulimia almost killed me and I hated every minute of it. It became an addiction. It controlled my life until very recently.

At 17, I was hospitalized because I was at immediate risk for a heart attack. My electrolytes were so out of balance from the purging. I always thought, it wouldn’t happen to me. I knew how to be careful and keep it in check, but I didn’t. I was near death on several occassions. I didn’t even know how serious it was until the doctors told me how easily I could have died.

I look at young girls now who are starting down that path, and I want to shake them and show them every medical problem I’ve had because I thought I needed to be thinner. The thing is, because I’ve been there, I also know
that no matter what I say, they may still find a way to justify their behavior and believe that nothing bad will happen to them.

I thought that too. I thought I could stop whenever I wanted. When I got to the weight I
wanted, I would stop and just “maintain”. But, that doesn’t happen. You can’t just quit the behaviors.

They start to rule your life and every time I would eat, I would get panicked. It ruined my social life. I didn’t want to hang out with friends because I didn’t want to have to eat with them. I tried to eat normally, my body wasn’t used to it and I would get really sick to my stomach. I would either throw up without even trying because my body started to get used to doing that, or I would get sick and have to run to the bathroom.

I haven’t thrown up in months, but still, every time I eat, I get nauseous and when I bend over, I feel vomit start to come up. It’s gross, I know, but I want people to know that none of this is glamorous.

You may get attention and people will definitely worry and that may feel good because you realize people DO care about you, which is something I desperately needed, but now, I’m stuck with awful side effects. I have cavities, I have constant indigestion, I have problems with my gall bladder from the non-fat diet I ate, and all the purging. I sometimes have to throw up even though I’m trying to stop that habit because my body just does it automatically now.

I have missed out on so many things beacuse I was afraid to eat. I have spent more time hovering over a toilet bowl than
meeting guys or going places with my friends. I would give anything to go back and never have started all of this.

I was afraid to stop the behavior, but with the help of some friends and mentors, I’ve replaced the habit with eating healthy and moderate exercise, and I haven’t gained any extra weight. I’m a healthy weight and size, and I don’t have to throw up to be that way.

Unfortunately, I will deal with the consequences of those disordered years for a long time to come. Please, if you’re in the throes of an eating disorder, please get help. It’s not worth it. I swear to you.

Am I a typical bulimic?

Typical Bulimic?

I am 38 and a bulimic. It sounds weird to even say it, to be honest. I should know better. I am not an insecure person and I don’t think I am what the "typical" description of what a bulimic is.

I have a great career in the military, which helps keep me in shape. I have a lot of friends and I am considered successful in my career, outgoing, very independent, and considered by most to have a strong personality ( I say what’s on my mind and do not worry about what others think about it.)

I was never considered "fat" and I have what most would consider a slim build ( 5’4" and 118 lbs.) So why do I have the urge to throw up after I eat? I know I have a fear of getting bigger but I am not sure how that developed.

I don’t over eat and then purge. My habit is eating a light breakfast (not purging after it), no lunch, and then dinner. Dinner is the meal I will eat, followed by a glass of ice cold water, just because I like the feeling of the coldness in my throat, when I throw it up. It is the only meal I will get rid of, or feel I have to get rid off.

I have never ever binged and then thrown up. I will control what I do eat at dinner for the fear that if I did over-eat, maybe all of it will not come up and I would feel guilty for eating.

I started this about a year ago, not sure why, or how, as I have never thought of it before. Nothing happened a year ago to make me do this. I just decided I would. Is that the norm?

It seems like most people who have an eating disorder are trying to control something in their lives. I just consider it " maintenance" to stop from gaining any more weight. Maybe I am just kidding myself thinking that I am not "as bad" as most.

Is there anyone else who has developed this habit at a later stage in
their life?

Share your story

My Battle with Peptic Ulcers

My Battle with Peptic Ulcers

I’ve had a peptic ulcer since November, 2000. They put me on nexium hoping it would heal the peptic ulcer, but it didn’t, so I had peptic ulcer surgery.

The first time I had the surgery was at Naples Community Hospital. Doctor Howard Bourdgages was my doctor. I had half my stomach removed, a herniated disk, and my appendix taken out.

It took 5 and 1/2 hours for my peptic ulcer surgery. I had to stay at Naples Community hospital for nine days. After I was released from the hospital, I had to stay at my mom’s condo for a month which was a living hell for me. That’s why I live with my brother and his fiancee now.

On June 17, 2002, I had another endoscopy done at 10:30 am at Cleveland Clinic in Naples, FL. They found another peptic ulcer in the same place I had it before.

As soon as my mom found out about my second peptic ulcer she went all apes blaming the foods I eat and the sodas I drink. She becomes over protective of me and I get stressed out from her being overly protective. But, I am seeing a psychiatrist which is helping me deal.

Share your story

Bulimia discontinued

Bulimia: My Discontinued Story

I don’t want my story to be about bulimia, but to be honest about the present moment, it is. My story has not finished.

The end feels like it approaches as I close my eyes resolved that tomorrow is the beginning of the rest of my life. A life of health and happiness. But then the next day I wake up and I’m hungry.

I eat breakfast, but I refuse to be satisfied. I eat until I cannot eat anymore. Then I throw it up, but I can never throw up everything. And so the cycle starts again.

I know I use food as a way to distract myself from how I am feeling. But how do I stop eating and start healing and feeling?


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