Reality-Bulimia…

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18percent
Published in
7 min readAug 5, 2019
All images’ credits go to their owners unless otherwise stated.

I remember looking at my classmates shoveling down 100 McNuggets between the 6 of them in 20 minutes, I remember thinking “I could eat them all alone in about that time” except it wasn’t my thought, it was hers…

I recall a girl in my class talking about her bulimic cousin who “Throws up her food just to be thin” I cried… This time they were my tears, and she was there to dry them up when I went home.

Why was I so upset? They were laughing about it, bulimia, that is. Reality is, if they truly knew what suffering with bulimia meant, they would have cried too.

This is real, this may be triggering.

In here I will be talking about a very severe form of Bulimia, the one that I had to deal with for years, and am still struggling with in a lighter form. Bulimia comes in all shapes and sizes, and can kill in all its forms.

Before I start I want to make it clear that you can purge in many forms, they are all deadly, and if they won’t kill you they WILL damage your organs, teeth, or life. Some people may die from Bulimia in the first months, some struggle till their 80s. There is no set size, nor is there a set age.

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The first time I purged? No I did not force it, I was just too sad my body couldn’t handle food. I won’t go into my trauma, as everyone may start struggling with an eating disorder for many different reasons.

I suffered from Anorexia before I did Bulimia. My hair was already falling out, my skin was bruised, and most of my body was scarred. I was put on a “healthy” diet when I was 12, little did I know it would be the ruin of me. I was always prone to addictions, be it pain, self-harm, or an eating disorder. Yes, this is what an eating disorder is for me… an addiction that was forced on me.

My Bulimia started crawling slowly upon me, it was running in my blood, waiting to reach my mind, it started with exercise addiction which my family cheered, then it made its way to late night binges, it starts slow but soon it reached the severity I will talk about now.

My body was beat, I was at a low weight, but that does not matter as I am now ‘over weight’ -according to the BMI chart- and am experiencing the same effects. I was having heart palpitations, I either slept 16 hours a day, or 3; my goal was to get a 99% in my report card.

Slowly, I couldn’t walk for long under the sun, I couldn’t focus on a thing for long, my skin’s elasticity became -and is still- horrible, my family came third.

My days consisted of waking up, having horrible paralysis in my palms and mouth for an hour or so, my heart was letting out, I could feel it beat slowly then fast, then hard, then so soft that I had to check if it was really beating because it was hard to breath. My head felt numb and my vision was all black and white at times. I would have breakfast and it would end up down the drain.

I went down and got into the bus, I took my seat, and started talking in a very awkward way as my mouth was still paralyzed -in a way the I could move but not really- I was telling the girl next to me how sometimes I couldn’t get out of bed because I couldn’t move my feet or hands, and my heart was beating hard and mind was somewhere else.

An hour later, by the time I got to school, my hands and mouth became normal again, and now it was time to deal with the excruciating daily headache, the one that reaches your eyes and feels like a construction worker drilling through your skull, I was in for a great day!

I stood to answer a question, my vision went black, my ears could hear none but the sounds of a place that doesn’t exist, I felt my body letting out, I was thankful I had held a chair… The teacher did not make it any easier, I had to walk to the board and answer there. I did, I managed to walk till the whiteboard, then my body let go, I fell, my classmates were going to call the nurse but I refused, “I cannot let my father know, please don’t.” they listened and I got back to my feet and answered, laughing and brushing it off, like nothing is wrong.

It was the first break and everyone was eating, I asked my classmates for food, as I forbade myself from bringing food with me, to avoid eating and purging that is, and as it happens everyday, she won. I ate. It ended down the drain.

I managed the trip back home, opened my books, laptop, and some packaged food. On normal days I would eat and purge over 10 times, on weekends my whole day was spent that way, on good days I would eat and purge only 10 times… the rest of the day wasn’t peaceful…

You would think all that might make you void of feelings, but that is not the case. What happened with me was that all those feelings would manifest into anger, and I would have what I personally call ‘Anger attacks’ and they would go as follows…

I stare in the mirror, pinch my fat, curse and shout, scream and cry. I would scratch myself, and sing the symphony of my wasted life, my wasted teen years, my wasted brains, time, and money, my sad sad life. I would spend hours shouting and screaming and crying, but it still did not make my anger calmer or my heart colder, I would start throwing things, breaking things, and I had the tendency of always breaking my combs. The day would end up with an overdose of lax… as self punishment.

In a few hours I would reek the juice of the self punishment, The stomach pains would start, the nausea and the weak limbs. My body was so weak, I had to crawl at times, to the bathroom I go and the pain in my stomach is still there, spiking up and then bile comes up, ends up on the floor, just one more thing to clean up with such a weak body. Bloodshot eyes, sore throat, palpitating heart, and weakening body. I was dying.

I had to eat after that because my body was shaking so bad and my body was beating in such a crazy manner, I truly feared I would die, my hands and mouth felt like they were shrinking and I knew that if I didn’t eat or drink I would pass out… my family would find out!

I had whatever she was okay with and went to bed, I was breathing hard, like I ran a marathon, but as I was sleeping, the pain came back, and it would go on and on and on, till I was bloated again, because I had to eat.

The bloating was awful, one might think all the throwing up might give you a flat stomach… myth.

Not only were you thirsty all the time, and in a lot of pain, along with having horrible skin, but you were both constipated and bloated, and you got a bonus bloat with every purge… what a deal!

I remember times where I would just be in the bathroom squishing my stomach, punching it, begging it to just let something out, relieve me from this constipation because taking laxatives was too painful. But no, if I did not take laxatives I could spend months without a bowel movement.

Problem with laxatives is that if you take them too often, you are left with a life long dependency on them, your bowel just… stops working. And if you don’t use them often you still end up with digestive issues, like I did. And the tooth damage, it even comes with gum damage, what a combo!

My teeth got a bit yellow at first, no big deal, the enamel was being eaten away, I chipped my front tooth, had cosmetic dental work done, no big deal, cavities were forming, and had to have fillings, no big deal, replacing the dental work twice a year, no big deal, looking in the mirror and comparing with peers, hell big deal! Not to mention the receeding gums, that cost $500 dollars to fix, yeah, they do not grow back.

I decided to have some tests done, an endoscopy and blood tests. I had low iron levels, and eroded stomach lining, yeah, I have pictures! -not going to show them-

The constant purging has left me with acid reflux and gastritis, painful to eat, painful to drink, painful to live.

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It is not glorious, not lovely, not vanity, not style, not just to be thin. It is a coping mechanism but if found out in the beginning could be replaced with a healthy coping mechanism. It is death, and pain and agony to live with.

Recovery is the way out. I write this to show the reality of bulimia, because it is not something to be made fun of, it is not a choice, but recovery is a choice that you have to choose for yourself.

-Aimz

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18percent

I am a writer for the 18percent blog. I write about mental health issues and share experiences from my own life in order to show how bad they really are.