They say people who talk about themselves on the internet are attention whores, but what the hell, I'll let you all in on my life a little. Hell, even Elliot didn't really more than vague information until I told him earlier this morning when I was panicking because I thought I was going to die of starvation or thirst when I couldn't keep a sip of water down. I keep some pieces of my life shut away, so I have to polish that halo I apparantly have a fair bit, ahah.
I'm an incredibly self-destructive person when I want to be, but for all the wrong reasons. I don't see it as hating myself, I see it as self-improvement. As twisted as it is, one of my many ex's taught me that one, being a fluctuating anorexic and pro-ana himself. Getting caught up in self-grandising is a very easy thing to do, especially when you have a massive ego like me. Therefore sticking your fingers down your throat and eating less than half your recommended daily amount of calories, causing you to drop from 11.9 stone to 9.7 becomes the easiest and most appealing thing in the world.
My bulimia WAS mixed with anorexia in a way, but not in an extreme sense. I don't have the amazing self-control to be able to eat nothing, unless I can really drill the habit into me, which I never wanted to do. Hence the quick recovery. The repurcussions I get from bulimia, in the form of wonderfully developed and unpredictable GER (Gastroesophageal Reflux - where the valve between your esophagus and stomach doesn't function properly due to forced vomitting, and acid makes its way back into the food pipe and sometimes mouth, and is like real bad indigestion. All food and drink is rejected.) was something I never saw coming and something I wish I could have stopped. But in retrospect, would I have really?
I guess the idea started back in Summer when my friend and I had the competition to lose a stone. I managed pretty damn effectively cutting a lot of my diet, turning essentially vegetarian, and generally having the self-control and brutality to make my body accept half the amount it was used to. I overstepped my boundaries at times. When I did the no-carb diet, I collapsed after a few days in public, and fucked my sleeping patterns royally. I was constantly tired and angry. So I had to do something else but I was running out of ways to go.
Bulimia is something that I tried shortly before this time, and automatically turned back to at lack of a better approach. And it proved the most wonderfully easy thing in the world. Logic says that bulimia maintains a constant weight, but it's untrue if your metabolism runs as stupidly high as mine, and I'd researched prior into ways to make it run as fast as it possibly could with minimal effort. Hello, Green Tea, Cayenne Pepper, and Citrus extract. That, in hand with eating less than 1500 calories everyday for several months, pretty much ensured the weight literally dropped off me. First my face, then my chest and arms, then my stomach and legs. And it all happened in the space of September to November.
Sadly during this time, I developed GER, and the worst thing about it, is that you never know when it'll happen. But it's something I found was drilled in sync with my subconscious, and sadly, being diagnosed in life prior to this with acute anxiety, means this combination did not bode well. These intervals where I suffered would come after I eat the littlest thing sometimes, and would proceed to see me throw up my entire stomach contents at my own will in an effort to feel better, because I felt I couldn't breathe, or something was stuck. This was royally awful, especially if out in a public place, which is exactly what happened last night.
And prior to last night, the worst bought I've had lasted 40 minutes, and I had the fortunate help of having my mother at home. She however, just thinks I eat too fast. Now, last night, it carried over to the next morning, without being able to eat or drink anything. It lasted 17 hours. And the thing that panicked me the most was it hadn't happened since before I started things with Jason. So you have the feeling of being helpless because there's nothing you can do about it.
Somehow, I came down. I calmed down. Elliot and a family friend managed to talk me down, after Jason did the night before, and combined with my tutor's dietary advice, I somehow fixed it and the pressure subsided, and I found I could eat a slice of bread.
Now, I've typed an essay and half here, but my words of advice, never force yourself into an Eating Disorder. It becomes one horrendous game, and it's something which you could end up stuck with. This could potentially follow me for the rest of my life, and having anxiety issues as well, this could indeed be the case with me. The most horrific thing is that I'll never know when it'll happen, and with Jason I forgot about it entirely. But now, I don't know how it's going to affect me.
Sure, I have 9.8 stone of body weight (I put back on .3 when I was with Jason) right now. Far below the norm for the average 6'1" 17-18 year old male. I'm fucking over the moon with that. But getting it this way, wasn't entirely worth it.
Edited by user 04 January 2010 06:01:51(UTC)
| Reason: Not specified
