As “Baby” Francis Houseman memorably pleaded to her father, that detective from Law and Order, “If you love me you have to love all the things about me…” So, for those of you who love me, hold on. Shit’s about to get real.
I am bulimic.
Not currently and not consistently (anymore), but I consider saying “I am bulimic” to be the same sort of declaration as “I am an addict” or “I am an alcoholic”. It is something that I will likely fight forever and something that occupies a lot of headspace on particularly trying days.
I’m writing this tonight because I had a mini-epiphany while journaling for the new moon and eclipse. It’s a time of letting go, a time of releasing things that no longer serve us. You know what doesn’t serve me? What has nothing to do with my highest good? Fucking bulimia.
It’s a habit. It’s a coping mechanism. It’s a remnant from days gone by, when I was struggling to stay afloat in an awful relationship, to find myself, and to meet some pretty outrageous demands that I had stacked on my own shoulders.
Bulimia calmed my anxiety. It helped me grieve. It gave me focus. Enabled my depression and apathy and – quite incredibly – created a kind-of force field around my heart. The people closest to me didn’t know what I was doing because the disease that was destroying me was sneakily camouflaging itself. How outrageous is that?
Bulimia is a bitch. Sometimes,due to the force of the vomiting, blood vessels in my eye would burst. I had a seizure. Then another, and another. I went blind temporarily. I thought I died and went to heaven once. My heart skips and sometimes I’m terrified to think what I may have damaged internally. Why do I keep coming back to her?
At least a million times I vowed to stop. A million times I broke the vow. When my son was born I promised to do better. I broke that promise. Even now, when I feel I am more or less in control of my urges, I can hear bulimia whisper to me. “You’re fat”, she says. “Don’t take care of yourself, you’ll feel deprived.” And my favorite – “Eating this whole box of Cheerios and then purging will make you forget all about (Problem XYZ).”
I’ve struggled so long, I figured I always would. Like an addict. An alcoholic. I didn’t like my disordered eating habits, but I figured they were just a part of me.
Recently, all of that began to change. I experienced a shift inside. My heart, my soul, my mind are all transforming. I’ve learned a lot about myself and about how powerful I am, how this abundant universe really works and how to speak things into existence. I’ve learned that I am (and can be) whatever I decide, and that I can change course at any time by simply deciding to turn and go another way. I have found freedom lies in this sort of awakening.
Simply put, there’s no room in my new life for my old habits, hurts, of regrets. I am grateful for the lessons, and let them go.
Tonight, with this magical new moon in the sky representing new dreams and releasing past wounds, I intend to release this disease along with the negative and controlling thoughts, and the shame that accompany it. Tonight’s the night I will step into a new identity. Tonight I am finally ready to say I love myself – and all the things about me.