Hey guys :)
I've been away for a week to celebrate my Mothers coming of age! She turned 60 this week and so we went on a family holiday as part of her birthday present.
Any occasion like this is met with much anxiety and deliberation for me. How will I get away without eating? How will I purge without everyone hearing? What if I need a binge and can't control the urges?
However, this is the first time I have been on holiday with my family since they knew about my relapse. I guess it took a little stress off my shoulders as I didn't have to stress too much about hiding it. Having said that, I don't want to rub it in their faces- especially on my Mum's birthday holiday!
I tried my hardest and even got through the whole of the first day (two full meals) without making myself sick! Of course this meant my old acquaintance 'Pain' woke me up at 3 a.m due to my body not really knowing what to do with the foreign substance non e.d folk call food! Which meant that belated purging ensued (always worse than immediate purging) and set me up for feeling ill, guilty and disgusting for the next few days.
Despite this, I was determined to have a good time. And bulimia aside, I really did. We had our own hot tub which we frequented nightly. Went swimming. I joined the boys on a bike ride which left my arse in agony but was totally worth it. Had a couple of sauna sessions and even a manicure!
It was truly a lovely time. -So what's my problem? I can't do things like that without incredible guilt. Why should I be allowed to treat myself nicely when I'm so hideous and disgusting?
Because I'm a person, just like anyone else and everyone is entitled to a nice time and a bit of luxury when on holiday.
Well not me. Didn't I see myself in that swimming costume? Don't I understand that I have put on 12lbs in the last two months? And I'm rewarding myself?!
But its Mum's birthday. I'll make up for it when we leave.
I'm disgusting. I should be ashamed. I should be punished.
This is the conversation with myself that never stops. Not even in sleep. Not even when I'm physically talking to someone else. Not even when I'm watching a film or reading a book. This verbal battle never takes a break.
So yes, I had a lovely time. Yes, I tried to join in with everything and not punish myself. Yes I managed at least one meal each day without throwing up. I should be proud of myself.
I'm not.
The first thing I did when I got home was weigh out my gluttonous rewards and review my failings. And now I have some serious making up to do and self punishment to endure for my week of rebellion from following the rules. The rules that keep things in order. Keep things safe.
Looks like I'm in for a fun week... I'll keep you posted. <3 xoxo
Saturday, 15 January 2011
Saturday, 8 January 2011
Back ground...
Hey guys, thanks for dropping by!
So all you know about me is that I have bulimia. There is a lot more to tell!
I had a diagnosable eating disorder from the age of 11. My E.D (eating disorder) has taken many forms over the years; bulimarexia, ednos, binge eating disorder and bulimia, with a couple of times you might call 'normal', thrown in there to! My ED has had a massive impact on my weight and has seen me go from 126lbs to 296lbs over the years, so I really have used my scales to their full potential and accessed all those evil numbers!!
For the last three years I have struggled badly with bulimia. Starving and then binging and purging my way through most of my days. Constantly battling with my mind about what is right, what is allowed, what I want and what I need to do. Bulimia mostly winning the arguments.
A year and a half ago I decided I could not live like this anymore. At almost 25 at the time I had tried to keep this thing quiet and deal with it alone for 14 years (barring a short time of counselling I had through school once teachers got a bit worried about my ghostly face and my frequent fainting). I did not want to look into a future where I saw only this for the rest of my days- putting everything else on hold. I went to my G.P and started the long process of waiting for appointments, several evaluations, more waiting, several referrals, more waiting and now I have finally been offered treatment which I start in two weeks time.
I'm going to blog my daily events. Right up to hopefully being on the other side of this! My hope is that my journey can help pull someone else through or just know that they aren't alone. Recovery is out there for all of us. I found the map when I went to my G.P. It took a long time but now I've found the road. Now I have to do the hard bit and actually walk along it. It's going to be hard and I'm sure I'll take a few wrong turns and git stuck, arse up in a ditch a couple of times, but I will get to where I'm going! I'm going to get my hope back. Take back my crown. Sew back on my butterly wings and fly to recovery and freedom!
Who's coming with me?
So all you know about me is that I have bulimia. There is a lot more to tell!
I had a diagnosable eating disorder from the age of 11. My E.D (eating disorder) has taken many forms over the years; bulimarexia, ednos, binge eating disorder and bulimia, with a couple of times you might call 'normal', thrown in there to! My ED has had a massive impact on my weight and has seen me go from 126lbs to 296lbs over the years, so I really have used my scales to their full potential and accessed all those evil numbers!!
For the last three years I have struggled badly with bulimia. Starving and then binging and purging my way through most of my days. Constantly battling with my mind about what is right, what is allowed, what I want and what I need to do. Bulimia mostly winning the arguments.
A year and a half ago I decided I could not live like this anymore. At almost 25 at the time I had tried to keep this thing quiet and deal with it alone for 14 years (barring a short time of counselling I had through school once teachers got a bit worried about my ghostly face and my frequent fainting). I did not want to look into a future where I saw only this for the rest of my days- putting everything else on hold. I went to my G.P and started the long process of waiting for appointments, several evaluations, more waiting, several referrals, more waiting and now I have finally been offered treatment which I start in two weeks time.
I'm going to blog my daily events. Right up to hopefully being on the other side of this! My hope is that my journey can help pull someone else through or just know that they aren't alone. Recovery is out there for all of us. I found the map when I went to my G.P. It took a long time but now I've found the road. Now I have to do the hard bit and actually walk along it. It's going to be hard and I'm sure I'll take a few wrong turns and git stuck, arse up in a ditch a couple of times, but I will get to where I'm going! I'm going to get my hope back. Take back my crown. Sew back on my butterly wings and fly to recovery and freedom!
Who's coming with me?
How it all started...
So this is the prologue to a book I have written about my continuing battle with bulimia. I thought it would be a good way to introduce my blog! Following this, my posts will be about my day to day life with bulimia and my journey to recovery which is just beginning.
People ask me why. I tell them I don't know- but maybe that's a lie. Maybe I know but I don't even want to tell myself. Maybe I really don't know why. But I know how.
When I was little I believed the world was a fairy tale. I believed I was a princess, or a butterfly. I didn't just sleep. I slept in magical lands, dreams full of summer, fairy dust and hope.
One night as I naively slept, something crept into my dreams and choked out my hope. They stole my princess crown and pulled off my butterfly wings so I could never fly again.
When I awoke, I wasn't the same person. My dreams of summer and fairy dust were replaced by a nightmare reality of a never ending winter, a painful existence, something eating away at me causing a slow death that would end in grey dust. I no longer heard laughter or saw smiles. Instead, angry voices screamed so loudly, they shattered the glass stones that were once my eyes.
People ask me why. I tell them I don't know- but maybe that's a lie. Maybe I know but I don't even want to tell myself. Maybe I really don't know why. But I know how.
When I was little I believed the world was a fairy tale. I believed I was a princess, or a butterfly. I didn't just sleep. I slept in magical lands, dreams full of summer, fairy dust and hope.
One night as I naively slept, something crept into my dreams and choked out my hope. They stole my princess crown and pulled off my butterfly wings so I could never fly again.
When I awoke, I wasn't the same person. My dreams of summer and fairy dust were replaced by a nightmare reality of a never ending winter, a painful existence, something eating away at me causing a slow death that would end in grey dust. I no longer heard laughter or saw smiles. Instead, angry voices screamed so loudly, they shattered the glass stones that were once my eyes.
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