My Control Story At the age of 14, I had had a pretty unstable childhood. My parents divorced when I was 4 years old, and from that point the years to come where destined to be full of new homes, new places, new situations and new people in my life, all of which I would have no say or have any control over. Hitting puberty was the last straw. I was uncomfortable, confused, depressed and seeking some sort of method of control, and that's when bulimia entered my life. I could control what went into my body, and pretty much everything that came out. I was independent, in control and happy! At least that's what I told myself. Forcing those words into my head, justified the headaches, the head rushes, the incapability to move at a respectable rate without killing over, the bad skin, and the sore eyes. I believe it was the reason why I couldn't undergo a simple operation to remove my badly inflated, damaged tonsils, because I was dangerously weak and under weight. At the age of 15, I was struggling to meet the 6 stone mark. Eventually, what I thought was my new founded control had turned into my new mental disease that was un-controllable. It got to the point where I was taking up to 350 laxatives at once. It didn't start out like that, but due to the constant abuse of them, my system became immune to the effects, which meant I had to up the amount. My mum became enlighted, the constant sick stains around the toilet and the unbearable smell, and not to mention my general image finally gave me away, our first confrontation was full of anger, denial, swearing, screaming and kicking. And that was just on my part. My mum was heart broken for months to come, as well as making myself
sicker and sicker. I managed to cause my mum to become physically ill as
well. My mum actually had two serious car crashes from the lack of sleep and By then I had lost my friends, the trust from my family, but worst of all I had lost myself, I had been very popular at school and had an unaccountable amount of friends as well as being close with my family. I had dreams and ambitions and I was a good student, but the reflection of the two years of being sick showed my grades to deteriorate from A and B's to a course of concern and ungraded. I was lonely and fighting the most powerful disorder of my brain alone. I hadn't lost my brain. As a bulimic sufferer, you have to be clever and discreet about everything you do in order to keep what your doing a secret. You need an explanation for everything you do, until finally life itself becomes one big excuse. I was so good that I managed to convince the psychologist that I was well, and over my eating disorder, and my file was closed after my first meeting. I am 17, and I live with my boyfriend, who helps me control my diet. I have three jobs that I am happy with. My jobs keeps me occupied. For me bulimia was a method of control and now my recovery requires the same
method .......CONTROL.
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