A mother’s private battle with bulimia

A mother’s private battle with bulimia

I am 25, a mother, a daughter, a friend, a teacher, a college student, a lover, and I am bulimic.

It’s so sad that with so much beauty in my life, I can’t find one thing that will give me the strength to overcome this.

It all started in college. Weird, right?  There are many things that I could blame, but why?  I felt inadequate, worthless, unimportant, overweight, and out of touch with what was going on around me.

It was just supposed to be a health kick. I was feeling great! I was running, eating healthy, cleaning out the negative energy around me, really loving life. Remember that feeling?

The first time it happened, I just felt guilty for working so hard on my perfect, healthy, lifestyle and then, eating so much. How dare I go outside my daily caloric intake? My friend did it and so did I.  It wasn’t that bad but unfortunately, one time turned into two and then two into weeks and then weeks into….wow I can’t believe it has been haunting me for seven years.

So, here I am, sitting at my desk after teaching all day to such wonderful children, waiting until 5 so I can go pick up my 10 month old, beautiful, little boy, and in tears because I don’t know what to do.

Here I am sitting, at 25, more lost than I have ever been, looking up doctors and support groups online because I can’t do it alone anymore.

Here I am sitting, as a mother, looking into her sons eyes everyday and apologizing because I don’t know why I am doing this, how to stop it, or what effects it is taking on my body, and how long I will be able to look into his eyes.

Here I am sitting, as a daughter, hating the pain that she has caused her own mother and father.

Here I am sitting, as a friend, hiding behind fake smiles and laughs just so I can hear someone else’s voice on the other end of the phone.

Here I am sitting, as a lover, filled with sorrow for all of the early turn ins, all of the “I love you’s'” that were never said, all of the cries in the middle of the night without an explanation, and all of the questions left unanswered.

Here I am sitting, as a college student, wondering why I am so educated, and yet, so trite to think that this isn’t a problem.

And here I am sitting, as a bulimic, hoping that someone will hear my cry and answer, with what, I do not know. Maybe something that will let me know that one day I will be able to stick my tongue out at that cloud and live the life that I was meant to live.

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