Monday, 21 January 2013

Day 166: From Anorexia to Bulimia

This blog is a continuation to:
Day 155: Introduction – Starving Myself

Day 156: Wanting Passion and Purpose in Life

Day 157: Generating an Eating Disorder – The Power of Thought - Part 1
Day 158: Generating an Eating Disorder - The Power of Images - Part 2
Day 159: Generating an Eating Disorder – The Power of Writing – Part 3
Day 160: Eating Disorders and Contradictions

Day 161: Become an Image and be Treated as an Image
Day 162: Eating Disorders and Unforetold Consequences
Day 163: Mistaking Obsession for Passion
Day 164: Eating Disorders as Perfection of Mind Dominance
Day 165: Eating Disorders and Real Self-Perfection

In Day 160: Eating Disorders and Contradictions I mentioned how at some point my family started getting suspicious of my eating behaviour and how skinny I started looking.

My mom would start pointing out how my lunchbox is still full when I get back home or from school or that she didn't see me prepare my lunchbox and how she never sees me eat breakfast, and that the scale has been left out in the bathroom a lot. I remember the one day, I came out of the bathroom and my mother looked at me and I just saw fear in her eyes, she looked bewildered and said "What is up with you! You don't have an eating disorder now have you?!". And because of the amount of fear and worry in her eyes, I just told her to "Stop being so paranoid, I'm fine". I think she was quite happy with that answer, because imagine if I had said 'yes mom, I have an eating disorder' -- that's like a big fear come true and she would have probably interpreted it has being 'her fault' and her being a 'bad mother'.

I realised I had been careless and had to become more specific in how I did things. In the mornings while my mom was in the bathroom I would take an empty plate, put the toaster upside down and shake some crumbs unto it. I'd then take a knife and put some choc-spread on it and make a streak on the plate -- now I had dirty dishes as 'proof' that I had eaten breakfast and I would leave it on the table in a nonchalant way. My mom would see the dishes and fill in the gaps herself, and I could see her smile.

I would do the same with my lunch, make lunch in the morning and then at lunchtime just crumb a piece up a bit and wipe the inside of my lunchbox with a piece to make it nice and dirty - forging 'having eaten lunch'. On weekends I would try going to friends, and tell my parents I would eat there and when I got at my friends I'd tell them I already ate at home.

I basically did not eat anything except for dinner, but now my parents were forcing me to take big portions and there was no way out of it. So I ate the big dinners and I started putting on weight, because now the body is in survival mode and wants to just store up as much in the body in anticipation of the next 'famine'. I started getting desperate.

During this whole period, I would also read a lot of blogs of other people, there's a whole 'pro-ana' and 'pro-mia' community on the internet ( pro-ana being pro-anorexia and pro-mia being pro-bulimia') of people posting daily about their daily application and progress. I saw that some girls would puke out the food they ate after binging - which was something I would rather not do -- I'd rather just not eat if I could instead of eating and then having to puke it out -- it just seemed like too much of a hassle.

But now that I felt that I was in a 'desperate spot', I decided to give it a go with my dinners. I'd drink a shitload of water, almost a sip after every bite so that it would be easier to throw it up later. I thought it worked great - initially. I could eat my dinners without any fuss, and could eat several meals during the weekends when there were more eyes around and then afterwards just go up to the bathroom upstairs and throw it all up. This worked fine for a bit, but after a while my stomach started hurting a lot and my throat as well. I couldn't puke as easily anymore and now whenever I would puke, most of the puke would come out through my nose and the veins in my eyes would pop of all the pressure, leaving them bloodshot. Then at some point I saw that I was puking out blood with my food and that's when I knew I had to stop -- my project had gone too far and the damage to my body was now undeniable.

To be continued...
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