I’m not really bulimic because…

1. I purged about an hour after eating. I didn’t purge because I as trying to remove calories, I as purging to get that damn food out of my stomach.

I do this a lot: purging to remove food instead of calories.

Honestly, a lot of the time, I don’t care about the calories in terms of purging. I tend to assume that after I eat it, it counts. I have no definitive way of telling how many calories will be absorbed and how many will be purged, so they just all count.

I just hate that feeling of having food in my stomach.

Sometimes I try to wait it out. It rarely works. I’ve purged several hours after eating. At that point, I don’t even know if it’s a physical feeling I’m trying to rid myself of or a psychological feeling. The knowing that I didn’t purge.

2. Sometimes I don’t even try to purge everything. I just purge until I get a certain feeling in my stomach and body. There have been times I’ve known there’s still some food in there, but I just stop because I achieved what I was looking for.

Strangely, other time I need to get everything out, taking extra precautions to make sure I do. (I won’t go into that because I don’t like giving people ideas.)

3. My desire to exercise doesn’t outweigh the pain and fatigue from my fibromyalgia. I am incredibly lazy.

I used to spend hours in the gym. I used to walk/run miles each day. Now, I’m doing well if I walk to the bus stop half a mile away. I consider walking around the store to get binge food a workout. (Though, don’t get me wrong, I’ve spent an hour or more walking around the store being indecisive.)

I could keep going, I have a long list of reasons why I’m “not really bulimic”. However, these are the 3 main ones that bother me the most. It’s not uncommon to bent over the toilet and think to myself, “I’m not really bulimic.”

 

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The one place I felt sane

I have realized that the one place where I feel truly sane is inside the walls of the psych ward.

Why?

I’m not sure.

I looked around at the other patients and thought to myself, “I’m not like them.”

I remembered this thought today while I was purging and thinking, “I’m not really bulimic.” (I’ll explain that one on another post.)

I think I have a denial problem.

But seriously, sitting in the hallway yesterday waiting to be released and watching some of the other patients, I felt very, very sane. I don’t know how to describe the feeling.

I’ve also come to realize that, when I want/need to, and I don’t have evidence contradicting me, I’m very good at convincing others that I’m sane, intelligent, wise, collected, a great leader, so on and so forth.

And yet, when I’m home, I feel anything but.

I tried using a potato peeler to cut my skin off earlier in the week. I’ve considered cutting the fat from my body, I’ve tried stabbing myself. I’ve thought of jumping from buildings and bridges, walking in front of moving cars, and tried various ways to kill myself.

I thought repeatedly of putting a sharp knife down my throat last week to prevent myself from eating or binging and purging. I frequently have visions of being mutilated or killed. My mind is filled with horrible images I am afraid to tell others.

I live in chaos.

I hide it well.

I so often feel legitimately insane.

Until I went to the psych ward. Then I felt sane. Oh, so sane.