The life of a recovering Bulimic…

http://thrushadows.blogspot.com

It’s no secret that I am a recovering Bulimic.

Today I am not ashamed to tell people that bulimia is a part of my life. When I hid it from the world I was ashamed. Ashamed that my relationship with food came down to two things: Binge and Purge. From the time I woke up until I laid my head down at the end of the day I was in a constant state of awareness of the process of  food entering my body and how quickly I would force it to leave.

Everything was a game of hide and seek.

Hiding in my car consuming large quantities of food until I was so uncomfortable and hated myself, then seeking out a way to find relief. Hiding in a bathroom stall waiting until I was sure I was the only one in there and then seeking more food when I was sure everything was gone. Hiding the fact that this was how I felt in control and then seeking the chaos that started the vicious cycle over (and over) again.

I don’t think I will ever allow myself to lose this label. Much in the same way I will always be a recovering meth head or someone on a never-ending life changing journey. I am not ashamed of being in recovery even if I go the next 20 years without purging. I still carry the demons of an unhealthy (physically and emotionally dangerous) behavior deep in my being.

I am still susceptible to those demons when they whisper in my ear.

The difference between being a recovering meth head and a recovering bulimic is that unless I am purposefully around drug addicts the likelihood of a relapse is almost non-existent. I don’t have the urge to lock myself in the bathroom and draw up a line. I don’t see commercials of people using meth that causes my heart to beat faster or sweat to sheen on my forehead. I would never for a second put myself in an environment that would put me at a risk for using again because I know that I will forever be in recovery even if I don’t attend meetings, have a sponsor or carry a little round chip in my pocket telling me I’ve been clean now for 21+ years.

I am still susceptible to those demons when they whisper in my ear.

I feel like I can’t really ever let my guard down when it comes to being in recovery from bulimia. I am so emotionally caught up with the food that I eat it’s hard not being constantly vigilant about where my mind is when I’m eating (either on “track” or off “track”). I can’t just remove myself from a situation for fear that a relapse may occur. I can’t leave the room because someone pulls out a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Food is everywhere. Emotions are with me everyday. While the urge to binge is far more under control today than ever before it can sometimes tap me on the shoulder as a simple reminder that those urges are only an emotional break down away if I’m not careful. Emotional break downs have become sort of common place the last few weeks of my life. Life is not as I had planned it out to be (not that my life has actually followed any plan I set forth), but this is different.

I am still susceptible to those demons when they whisper in my ear.

I’ve never in my life been as scared as I was when Meegan was hit by a truck and I was 4000 miles away listening to everything happen over the phone. I’ve never felt more of a sense of urgency to leave everything behind and pack what I could into two bags and spend twenty-three hours flying to all four corners of the United States to finally land in Halifax and realize I would not be returning to what I used to call “home”. I’ve never felt more lost than I did stepping out my new front door and not even knowing where the closest food store was. I feel more than my share of guilt over not being able to work while the government of my new country and the government of my old country decide whether or not I can stay. I feel an immense amount of panic as what little money I came with dwindles down and I become more dependent financially on someone else (which in my entire adult life I’ve never experienced)…

Fear + Urgency + Lost + Guilt + Panic

=

Feeling out of control.

You see where this is leading right? I can’t just remove myself from this like I could if I accidentally found myself in a room full of drug addicts. My mind wanders as I stroll the aisles at my local food store. I contemplate filling my body with a dozen donuts from the bakery and washing it down with a two-liter of diet coke. I think about walking to the Burger King I can practically see from my apartment and ordering the largest meal I can buy and since I can’t hide in my car (which is still in the States), sitting in the farthest corner alone as I feel the next step to finding control come over me like a warm blanket on a cold night…

In this moment

I refuse

to give in.

Time has a way of changing things. The fear is subsiding. The feeling of urgency is now replaced with moments of calm. I am no longer lost as I learn to love walking out the door of my new home,  and walking the streets of my new city (and thank goodness for google maps on my iPhone in case I get turned around). The guilt and panic are still a big part of my everyday emotions but I am learning to not only talk about them but to listen to (and trust) Meegan that this is the way it is because this is the way the Universe has planned it.

I am still susceptible to those demons when they whisper in my ear.

Today I am NOT bulimic.

Today I am a RECOVERING bulimic.

This is my life.

(and I am thankful)