Bulimia Nervosa

*trigger warning for anyone struggling with eating disorders

*if you or anyone you know is struggling with eating disorders you can call (866)256-3563 for support.

Imagine standing at the helm of a ship: the sun kissing your skin and the mist of the water balancing the sun’s kiss. The breeze dancing through your hair, wrapping your clothes tighter to your body. Allowing the salty air to caress your nose and sink into your pores.

Take a moment to feel that. To embrace that. To hear the waves and feel the sensations.

Then out of nowhere, it shifts.

The sun falls behind a massive dark cloud. That moment of bliss is ripped from you before you have time to process what is happening.

Rain pelts your skin, washing away the salt, and soaking your body in an unforgiving moment. The waves rock the boat in a series of violent strokes, giving you barely a second to catch yourself before you fall off the front of the ship. Nausea gurgles in the base of your stomach and before you can stop it you feel the remnants of everything good in your body being released.

The sensation is gut-wrenching and heartbreaking.

And this is how I would describe those moments when I find myself seated in front of a toilet. Battling for a mind of clarity while the dark clouds hover and settle in.

My experience with eating disorders has been maybe one of the longest relationships I have had (insert uncomfortable laughter here.)

When I reach a point where it feels like the boat is just uncontrollably rocking, pulling me backward 100 steps from the progress I have made, I feel the physical shift in my mentality.

It’s weird. I can recognize when it is happening and feel the spiral start. I watch myself being pulled into this whirlpool. I can see myself clawing at the water to get out of it, but you can't hold water. It doesn’t offer a way to grip and hold onto. It only offers a pull downwards. It sucks you in backward and there is nothing you can do.

Sometimes, and very rarely, I can pause the inevitable. Somehow it always circles back around though. It’s mental gymnastics and that shit gets exhausting. It’s always followed by tears. A moment staring at the girl in the mirror wondering how she got here. Unsure who she even is which makes her feel even more alone. Makes her feel unseen. Makes her invisible.

I won’t tell you this happens frequently. It doesn’t anymore. But when it does, the girl with the smile on the exterior is wearing a mask nearly impenetrable except by those who know her best. Even then, she has become a master at hiding her pain from them too.

Bulimia affects about 1.5% of US females and .5% of men at some point in their life (https://americanaddictioncenters.org/bulimia-treatment). The risks and the physical deterioration that happens in the body range from tooth decay, esophagus rupture, heart damage, prolonged sore throats, and more.

I know all this information. I have read and researched and reached for more knowledge surrounding this topic. I have worked to understand why I do this thing and where it comes from. I have discussed it in therapy. I have tried to comprehend why my self-image is so distorted. Tried to relate and associate what in my life brings it to the forefront.

Yet… I still find myself staring into the hole of a toilet bowl from time to time. My version of escape.

The process makes no sense but it is there. It happens.

Eating disorders affect at least 9% of the population (https://anad.org/eating-disorders-statistics/). Unfortunately, the ability for people to talk about or engage in conversation about them is typically laughed off out of a place of sincere discomfort.

I don’t shy away from this issue that I deal with on a daily basis – whether it’s a mental fight or physical action – one way or the other.

I wonder sometimes what difference it would make if we could talk about it. Discuss this topic more. Bring it to the attention of those around us. Turn the conversation to places of understanding, appropriate questions, and how to broach the subject or address concerns.

Whether you find yourself relating to my specific struggle or you are dealing with a struggle of another kind, I want you to know I love you. I know it’s hard, really hard some days. You are worth more than those thoughts in your head. Those voices screaming. On the days you need a voice to scream back because yours is suddenly gone or distorted:

I’ve got you.

The body is the vessel that holds more than just your food - it holds your soul and you my friend, are far more than your body.

Love always,

Riss