More Than Throwing Up, Living with Bulimia, Bulimia destroys lives

More Than Throwing Up

Body image has always been a weakness of mine. Every since I was a little girl, I've concentrated on weight and appearances more than anyone should.

I remember swimming in my friend's pool when I was going into 2nd grade and begging her, in any way I could to tell me I was fat, so I could tell my mom that I needed to go on a diet. The truth was and is however, that I am not now, nor was I ever fat.

It is not that simple however, because I still look in the mirror all day, every day...pinching, squeezing, sucking in, turning to the side, trying on clothes and any other way I can to measure my weight without getting on the scale. Because every time I get on the scale, I know what the results will be..125 pounds - that is always the number. For most people that stand at 5'8'', that is a desirable number. Yet to me, it's not desirable, it's just unsatisfying because when I look in the mirror, I'm still ashamed.

I started purging in the 6th grade. I don't know what made me do it, but I thought it could make me happier if I could only lose weight. Eleven years old sounds young to some, but I was not your typical 11 year old. I guess that is what angers both myself and all of my friends that are aware of my fight with bulimia.

My teachers, family, friends and basically anyone I've ever met, have referred to me in some shape or form as "the package child." I've basically got it all and hate myself for it. It's all about my self-esteem. I'm extremely smart, an outstanding athlete, popular, tall, and beautiful. I know it may be odd to refer to oneself in such a way, but after hearing it for so long from so many different people, you have to assume that everyone shares these opinions for a reason.

On the inside I know they're right, but my desire to be perfect is too strong to let me live. I think that is the reason I developed such severe bulimia at such a young age, because everyone expected me to be perfect at such a young age. Especially my parents. The pressure I have received from them since day one was truly unbearable.

My 5th grade teacher pulled me out of class to talk to me about self-esteem because I started crying when I got an 89 on a math quiz. I'll never forget it, because she managed to read me when I felt like no one else could. Actually, because I couldn't read myself.

My bulimia did not begin to dominate my life until my freshman year in high school. I started experimenting with alcohol and found that the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree. Alcohol turned me into an emotional, loud, obnoxious mess...the more I made an idiot out of myself however, the more I longed to drink on weekends with my friends.

I had the best boyfriend in the world my freshmen and sophomore year but I became far too out of control for him, the drinking, the purging, the family problems, it turned my perfect life into an utter catastrophe.

When I went away for a week with my school for a class trip, I only ate two bowls of rice and a piece of toast and lost 10 pounds. Everyone around me was shocked and I became too much of mess to look at. You may ask where my parents were throughout this mess? My mom was in denial, hitting the bottle harder than ever and my passive dad was away too much to care. Truth be told, I truly think the only reason I survived my sophomore year of high school was because I tried not to drink or throw up, so I could get back together with my boyfriend.

The drinking took a while, because I would get obliterated every weekend and do a great deal of damage alone in my bedroom every night, other that mondays, wednesdays and saturdays, because I had soccer the next day.

Although I was playing lacrosse, I had no passion for it like I did soccer and basketball. I was on the varsity soccer and basketball team my freshman year, and I made the varsity lacrosse after never playing it before my sophomore year. I think sports are what saved me in the end, because I would have never eaten if I didn't have the knowledge that I needed some fuel for sports later that day.

My life didn't truly turn around for the better until april that year. My whole school was going to a dance at a club in Boston held by some girl from another town and there were over 1,000 teenagers going. I don't remember ever seeing the club, however, because on the way over, I drank so much I blacked out, and I didn't recall one thing until I woke up at 4 a.m.

I knew I'd really done something horrible, so I called my ex-boyfriend and then took a bottle of advil because it was all I could find. I took over 100 pills but I woke up at 10:30 the next day alive and well. No one knows that I attempted to kill myself, but I don't think I even knew what I was doing, because I was still so drunk when I woke up. This traumatic and life altering event made me give up drinking and throwing up completely.

Although I know longer throw up, my mind is still taken over by an endless checklist of how I should lose weight and how I should measure my daily caloric intake. I am a firm believer that bulimia is more than throwing up, it is a mental and psychological cycle that can drive one insane. Without a therapist that I truly respect and like, I don't know if I will ever get mentally better. My life however has turned around immensely.

Only two months after the incident at the club, my boyfriend and I got back together and I have been offered many opportunities to play soccer at D1 and Ivy League schools. I worry though, because I know I will not make it through college without reverting to my old ways if I don't cleanse my mental health. I'm only a junior so I still have time to get better, but overall, bulimia is a monster that can destroy lives.

PLEASE, please, if you have a friend that you know is suffering, don't try and be loyal, tell her parents. If her parents are unresponsive like mine, go through your friends parents. And if you suffer like I did, remember, you are better than the vicious cycle of starvation, or binging, and purging.

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