Posts tagged bulimic
Posts tagged bulimic
Last night one of my best girlfriend’s told me that she had an ED. She didn’t say it outright. We were discussing tattoos and she asked me what mine meant. I said it was a recovery symbol for an ED, and she said, “Ohhh, really? I have too.” It didn’t really come as a shock to me. I wrote about her once in a post, but we weren’t that close at the time. She was the one I bumped into in the bathroom, where I saw the toilet swallow the last few remnants of regurgitated food, where the cubicle reeked of the unmistakable odor of vomit. I told her that I’d always known, and that I just didn’t know how to approach her, or if I should; who knows, she could have a stomach disorder or just happen to vomit because she was pregnant or something. I didn’t know at the time, but now I do.
I never thought I’d end up talking to her about her problem, or even my problem, but I’m glad she opened up to me. She told me a bit about herself and I told her a lot about myself. I didn’t censor my stories or sugar coat them to make them sound better. I gave her the cold, hard and cruel facts because truthfully, nothing about this disease is pretty. She seemed a bit hesitant and doubtful of herself but that’s normal; even if she wants to get better, she can’t let go of the weight thing.
I told her that what I learned from my psych is that people like us are control freaks. We thrive on perfectionism and control. Whenever something chaotic happens, something out of our control, we freak out and we try to exert that sense of control on our weight, on ourselves. Whenever something bad happens to us it translates into us being fat, and therefore undisciplined, invaluable, undeserving, worthless. She needs to learn that she is more than her bodily composition of skin, bones, muscle, organs and adipose tissue. With help, in time, she’ll realize that and believe it.
The fact that she is willing to tell me about her issue means that somewhere deep inside of her is that little spurt of yearning and desire to get better. It might not be a full-blown, relentless need for recovery, but it’s there. Flowers just don’t pop out of nowhere, you know? I gave her the office and contact number of my psychiatrist. I told her that whenever she’s ready to see someone, my psychiatrist will be open to her. She thanked me but said that for the time being she’ll see if she can handle it on her own first. I have my doubts about that. I’ve heard that so many times before, not just from myself but other people in the blogosphere. Do I doubt her? No. She’s strong. But sometimes the disease is stronger.
Hopefully in time she realizes that she needs help, and when she does, she takes the necessary steps to embark on her path of recovery. Until then all my hope, faith, love and prayers are with her.
