MamasHealth.com Home Asking for Help Stories Bulimia Story Bulimic and In Trouble Bulimic or Anorexic Consequences Cry for Help Eighth Grade Social Growing Up Thick Homemaker Haunts Me I Don't Know What To Do I Have A Life To Live I Need Help I Wish It's Killing Me Judge Me My Ongoing Battle My Sexual Abuse Story No Energy or Body Mass Not Alone Please Help Purging Battle Questions I Ask Myself Uncontinued Story Will It Ever Stop Links Email Mama Addiction stories Anorexia stories Athletic stories Bulimia stories Family and friends stories Help Me! I'm not healthy stories Medical disease stories Medications and eating disorders Migraine stories Mother stories Recovered Anorexic Recovered Bulimic Recovered Eating Disorder Self esteem stories The Letter "C" Weight stories Mama's Inspirational quotes Mama's Motivational pledges Mama's Health quotes Mama's Poem	Question I ask myself I have been a bulimic since I was 15. That's 12 years of secretly purging any meal or meals that I felt guilty about. There's a hot fire that encompass my esophagus and intestines on a frequent basis. My knuckles are raw and bleed all the time. I tell my friends that I do it, just so they're not surprised when I excuse myself right after we have dinner together. But thinking about it, what do I get? I get that feeling of guilt and pain of insecurity disappear...for a little while. I get the satisfaction of knowing that I can wretch until I taste the bitter bile, meaning there's nothing substantial left. And then? And then I say to myself, "do you feel better?(yes, much) but are you happier? (no)" I'm never happier because I know that it's sick to feed my face only because I know I can throw it up later. I'm sick, I found a way out of loving to eat without becoming obese. If my family knew, if my doctor-brother knew, (not that they'd ever understand) I would be hospitalized and ostracized and misunderstood. This doesn't happen in my family. This doesn't happen to "normal" people who can control themselves in front of a plate of food. But I can't, because I know that 20 minutes later it's gone anyway. I just pray my heart doesn't give way before I'm able to get over this, because I know I can. I swear. I can. Share your story	Featured Book Advertise on MamasHealth.com MamasHealth $500 Scholarship Your product featured on MamasHealth.com
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