(no subject)
My Life Right Now And
Why Mia Is Hard To Beat
I have bulimia. To some, this will not be a surprise; to others this will be new to you. Most mornings I wake up, and look in the mirror and think I'm pretty. I exercise, and like the outline of my shadow when I'm running. Then I eat, shower, dress and turn on the TV to watch the news. I feel beautiful until I turn on the TV.
I'm not one of those girls who was always thin, and turned to an eating disorder to remain thin. I've felt betrayed by my Eastern European genes, which make me short and stocky. My freshman year of college I was 168lbs while only 5' tall. I was obese, very obese. My family suffers the same fate. As my parents get older, they feel the effects of their weight more. I was not overweight until my senior year of high school. Many things caused this; I stopped taking Adderall, I stopped exercising, I was stressed, I was depressed. So I ate.
Prior to this I was a very athletic person, but my stature prevented me from being very successful, as well as an old knee injury. I love swimming, I love running, but I was never tall enough to ever be competitive. I displayed proficiency in gymnastics for the five years I was active in it. I was short, muscular, with an unwavering sense of balance. When I was in Karate I was a star, a top pupil, number one student every year I was active. My instructor remembered me even after a two year absence and insisted I do a demonstration for the black belt graduation, even though I had never received my black belt because of moving to a different city. He told me that he wouldn’t take no for an answer when it came to joining the competition team. Parents came up to talk to me after lessons, praise me on my kicks and flexibility. It was embarrassing, but I liked the attention. More than that, I loved being the best.
When I gained weight, I felt like it took everything away from me. I was too heavy to run, fat ruined my flexibility, and because it made me sad, I ate more. I was embarrassed to go to martial arts classes anymore, afraid someone would remember me. I felt out of place with my friends, all of them were thin and tall. I didn't know why I felt this way; I never looked down on people who were heavy when I was in shape. Why did I look down on myself? I still can't answer this question.
I knew what eating disorders were, the signs and symptoms, but I don't remember any particular push for their awareness in school. Maybe my mind glossed over them, because I felt I was too smart for Ana and Mia, I was better than them. I don't remember what caused me to purge for the first time, but I think it was in college. I had just looked at pictures of me with friends on facebook my freshman year, I was depressed at how grotesquely fat it made me look. My roommate and suitemates were gone. Our bathroom was like a cinderblock prison. Far from soundproof, but more private that the bathrooms at home which are old with thin walls.
Purging became a regular occurrence. After almost every meal, I would purge and wash my hands obsessively. I was worried people would be able to smell the bile. I started to exercise more often, at least 3 days a week, often more. When I become more careful about what I ate, I purged less. I started to lose weight. I’m not sure how much the purging had to do with it aside from make me feel better. When I look back on it, I can recognize the pattern of when I was depressed, all the crap I ate, and then purging afterwards. It was a coping mechanism to combat my binge eating. When I ate, I felt out of control, but purging gave me power. But now I know this sense of power is a delusion
I’ve always known I had a problem. There isn’t a single bulimic that thinks their behavior is normal and healthy, but none of us can fully explain why we do it. The older ones, myself included, know that you don’t control the purging, it controls you. It’s a ritual you must complete. The gravity of my situation didn’t hit me until a year into it, one night visiting home, I started choking on the long strands of spaghetti that couldn’t fully vacate my mouth. After that, I realized how I chose my meals based on how easy they would be to get rid of later. I drank more water, so bread wouldn’t clot up in my stomach, making large unmanageable chunks of dough that were painful to purge. I avoided tuna, it came out of my nose too often. I wasn’t in control anymore.
Once you’re in deep, it’s hard to get back out on your own again. I was too embarrassed to ask for help from even my therapist. Again, I was too smart to do something so stupid. I didn’t feel any urgency to resolve the problem either. I wasn’t hurting anyone but myself. I made a conscious effort to purge less, but it was hard. My stomach was smaller than normal, even reasonable amounts of food made me feel bloated. It drove me crazy walking around, feeling like I’d eaten far too much at every meal. It was even more difficult when we went out to eat. The foods felt so dense and greasy, and nothing was worse than purging in a public restroom, especially at busy places like airports.
Even now, I’m not completely well, but I’m better. I don’t feel like I ever made a choice to be bulimic, I can’t imagine purging was a choice so much as a compulsion. As a trade off, I haven’t cut myself in almost a year, maybe almost two years. I still have the scars, and I’ll probably be a little sad when they’re gone. One form of self-abuse traded for another. I haven’t been seriously depressed in a long time either. Every now and again, I sink into morbid thoughts about how it would be easier to end it than deal with the stress of school, growing up, and moving out. It’s been awhile since suicide was something I ever considered seriously. For someone with my problems, an eating disorder has a high rate of co-morbidity, meaning it frequently occurs with a certain disorder.
But I’ve been in a funk lately, so apologize to anyone I might’ve lashed out at without meaning to. I am stressed, and confined to this house with no real social outlets. I like Swetha and Diane, but they’re both older than me and have families. Worrying about money when I graduate makes my head spin, all the things I need to get in order in the three days I will have before school starts makes me grit my teeth. I’m having trouble sleeping again too, which is making me anxious. Despite being alone a majority of the time I rarely feel like I have privacy. Pessimism is taking over. I feel like a bitch. But less than a week from now, I’ll be on my way to California. When I get back to VA, I’m going to talk to Bill more. I’m going to get help.
In other words.
Why Mia Is Hard To Beat
I have bulimia. To some, this will not be a surprise; to others this will be new to you. Most mornings I wake up, and look in the mirror and think I'm pretty. I exercise, and like the outline of my shadow when I'm running. Then I eat, shower, dress and turn on the TV to watch the news. I feel beautiful until I turn on the TV.
I'm not one of those girls who was always thin, and turned to an eating disorder to remain thin. I've felt betrayed by my Eastern European genes, which make me short and stocky. My freshman year of college I was 168lbs while only 5' tall. I was obese, very obese. My family suffers the same fate. As my parents get older, they feel the effects of their weight more. I was not overweight until my senior year of high school. Many things caused this; I stopped taking Adderall, I stopped exercising, I was stressed, I was depressed. So I ate.
Prior to this I was a very athletic person, but my stature prevented me from being very successful, as well as an old knee injury. I love swimming, I love running, but I was never tall enough to ever be competitive. I displayed proficiency in gymnastics for the five years I was active in it. I was short, muscular, with an unwavering sense of balance. When I was in Karate I was a star, a top pupil, number one student every year I was active. My instructor remembered me even after a two year absence and insisted I do a demonstration for the black belt graduation, even though I had never received my black belt because of moving to a different city. He told me that he wouldn’t take no for an answer when it came to joining the competition team. Parents came up to talk to me after lessons, praise me on my kicks and flexibility. It was embarrassing, but I liked the attention. More than that, I loved being the best.
When I gained weight, I felt like it took everything away from me. I was too heavy to run, fat ruined my flexibility, and because it made me sad, I ate more. I was embarrassed to go to martial arts classes anymore, afraid someone would remember me. I felt out of place with my friends, all of them were thin and tall. I didn't know why I felt this way; I never looked down on people who were heavy when I was in shape. Why did I look down on myself? I still can't answer this question.
I knew what eating disorders were, the signs and symptoms, but I don't remember any particular push for their awareness in school. Maybe my mind glossed over them, because I felt I was too smart for Ana and Mia, I was better than them. I don't remember what caused me to purge for the first time, but I think it was in college. I had just looked at pictures of me with friends on facebook my freshman year, I was depressed at how grotesquely fat it made me look. My roommate and suitemates were gone. Our bathroom was like a cinderblock prison. Far from soundproof, but more private that the bathrooms at home which are old with thin walls.
Purging became a regular occurrence. After almost every meal, I would purge and wash my hands obsessively. I was worried people would be able to smell the bile. I started to exercise more often, at least 3 days a week, often more. When I become more careful about what I ate, I purged less. I started to lose weight. I’m not sure how much the purging had to do with it aside from make me feel better. When I look back on it, I can recognize the pattern of when I was depressed, all the crap I ate, and then purging afterwards. It was a coping mechanism to combat my binge eating. When I ate, I felt out of control, but purging gave me power. But now I know this sense of power is a delusion
I’ve always known I had a problem. There isn’t a single bulimic that thinks their behavior is normal and healthy, but none of us can fully explain why we do it. The older ones, myself included, know that you don’t control the purging, it controls you. It’s a ritual you must complete. The gravity of my situation didn’t hit me until a year into it, one night visiting home, I started choking on the long strands of spaghetti that couldn’t fully vacate my mouth. After that, I realized how I chose my meals based on how easy they would be to get rid of later. I drank more water, so bread wouldn’t clot up in my stomach, making large unmanageable chunks of dough that were painful to purge. I avoided tuna, it came out of my nose too often. I wasn’t in control anymore.
Once you’re in deep, it’s hard to get back out on your own again. I was too embarrassed to ask for help from even my therapist. Again, I was too smart to do something so stupid. I didn’t feel any urgency to resolve the problem either. I wasn’t hurting anyone but myself. I made a conscious effort to purge less, but it was hard. My stomach was smaller than normal, even reasonable amounts of food made me feel bloated. It drove me crazy walking around, feeling like I’d eaten far too much at every meal. It was even more difficult when we went out to eat. The foods felt so dense and greasy, and nothing was worse than purging in a public restroom, especially at busy places like airports.
Even now, I’m not completely well, but I’m better. I don’t feel like I ever made a choice to be bulimic, I can’t imagine purging was a choice so much as a compulsion. As a trade off, I haven’t cut myself in almost a year, maybe almost two years. I still have the scars, and I’ll probably be a little sad when they’re gone. One form of self-abuse traded for another. I haven’t been seriously depressed in a long time either. Every now and again, I sink into morbid thoughts about how it would be easier to end it than deal with the stress of school, growing up, and moving out. It’s been awhile since suicide was something I ever considered seriously. For someone with my problems, an eating disorder has a high rate of co-morbidity, meaning it frequently occurs with a certain disorder.
But I’ve been in a funk lately, so apologize to anyone I might’ve lashed out at without meaning to. I am stressed, and confined to this house with no real social outlets. I like Swetha and Diane, but they’re both older than me and have families. Worrying about money when I graduate makes my head spin, all the things I need to get in order in the three days I will have before school starts makes me grit my teeth. I’m having trouble sleeping again too, which is making me anxious. Despite being alone a majority of the time I rarely feel like I have privacy. Pessimism is taking over. I feel like a bitch. But less than a week from now, I’ll be on my way to California. When I get back to VA, I’m going to talk to Bill more. I’m going to get help.
In other words.