Wednesday, April 30, 2014

This Hunger Game Is Not a Work of Fiction

I mentioned in my first blog about some of the things I live and struggle with, and on any given day I may be waltzing around with more than one issue. Sadly for me there is one that has haunted me for what seems like an eternity, my struggle with EDNOS (Eating disorder not otherwise specified). I know that I'm not alone in this struggle of self hate and punishment but mine is not as simple as trying to be one stomach flu away from a size 0. It was never like that for me. I was never trying to look like a model. I was always feeling guilty about something and like many young girls and women I began to use food as a voice. (the absence of it and the over abundance kept me in a hellish love/hate triangle)

My bulimia started as a way to (pardon my pun) purge away the guilt. I remember as early as 6 feeling guilty for enjoying things. I would break my own toys and I remember punishing myself by sitting inside my bedroom closet terrified of the darkness inside but somehow feeling it was what I deserved. The actual purging didn't start till I was 13. I also had a brief relationship with pica as well. The pica was the ultimate in punishment for me. I felt like such a horrible human being and that I didn't deserve food. I allowed myself little bits of paper and in some cases little pieces of chalk. These things didn't taste good or didn't qualify as food so it was guiltless. I would shake the toaster upside down because I didn't deserve a whole piece of bread or toast but I could have the crumbs nobody wanted. My college years I would troll the 24 hour grocery stores late at night for food porn. (A feast of the eyes only) I would roam down the aisles picking things up and putting them back while the most pitiful pear that had obviously been dropped and maybe even partially rotted sat like a baby in the front of my cart. It rode around sometimes rolling and falling over creating more skin blemishes than a puberty ridden middle schooler. By then maybe I could have it. No one in their right mind (I obviously wasn't) would want it so maybe I could convince myself that I could have it. The person working the register always gave me a strange look as I purchased my sub-par piece of fruit.

The problem for me in this is that I am overweight. The truth is, the majority of people with an eating disorder are overweight or of average weight. The sad part is because of that many don't get the help they need. I was one of those people. After confessing to a doctor about my purging and my binge/starve cycle he chuckled slightly and said I don't look like I have anything to worry about and will probably tire of this behavior eventually when I don't get the attention I'm expecting. At the time I was 15. I started purging about 5 times a day after that. After all, the doctor said I had nothing to worry about. (Ruptured esophagus = death, weakening of the heart which leads to heart attacks = death, kidney failure = death, stroke = possible death etc.) He wasn't the only one in the medical community who made me feel like an attention seeking brat. I realized very quickly that unless I was emaciated (which can be too late to receive help) I would never be taken seriously. I was actually fine with that-- well, the part of me that believed I was a horrible human being and didn't deserve anything. That part of me began to take over after I stopped trying to get help. It reminded me that I didn't deserve to stop. I began to believe it and I fell into a very dangerous cycle of self injury, binge/purge, and starve behaviors. I was almost high with the sadistic rituals I put myself through. Later as an adult things got out of hand again. A stressful moment can start the madness and I'm 70lbs down in two months, my hair is coming out in clumps, I have dizzy spells, anemia, and big dry patches all over my body. I was once told by a woman who I suppose was trying to help that I was going to hell for treating (my body) the temple of the Lord with such disregard. (She was referring to my constant purging and negative words I had singed into my skin) I looked at her and responded “This is hell!” I even had a minister try to give me diet advice that was safer than what I was doing. Um...really?? WTH??? Look I know sometimes people just don't know what to say and in those instances I wish they would just keep their pie hole shut! Everyday and every bite I take there is always that thought “you don't deserve it!” “Spit it out!” It's terribly exhausting to hate yourself so much but then again isn't that the point. To exhaust myself to the point where I can no longer be. Where I'm just a hollow shell curled into a cupboard trying not to take up room because there are other people, wonderful people that deserve to be. At my lowest I wrote this poem.

ERASE ME

Erase me. I'm just a smudge.
This sketch would be much cleaner
If you'd cut me off or blot me out
Or whittle me much leaner.
Erase me. It's not a loss
My shadow soon unknown
Those that are left may walk in light
And not my hellmouth roam.

Erase me. I beg of you.
Don't make the torture longer.
White me out, scrape me off,
Just make sure I'm a goner.

Erase me. Don't recreate
For I'm not worth the space.
Don't watch me fade, evaporate,
Just let me be erased.

Erase me. I'm just a flaw.
Don't ruin your masterpiece.
Just peel me off, and carve me out
And make this being cease.

Erase me.

Now that I look back on this and sad to say many other poems and essays I wrote I can see how far I've come. Maybe not as far as I want (I tend to be impatient with myself) but the fact that I don't feel like this on a regular day to day basis is amazing. I was dying inside, hollowed out, and severely depressed. I may not always be rainbows and sunshine but I no longer wake up disappointed that I didn't die in my sleep. Truth is I don't go a day without condemning myself whenever anything crosses my lips (even raw vegetables) There is always that nagging feeling of not being deserving of that salad or piece of cheese. The sour bitter remembrance of bile on my tongue and how easy it would be to just rid my stomach of any culinary sin. I know that slippery slope all too well. Awakening the beast inside and knowing I won't be able to stop. It scares me. Today, I survived this hunger game. Every baby step is a victory. So no matter your gait, just keep moving forward.



4 comments:

  1. Wow, India. You really have a way with words, my friend. I could identify with a lot of what you wrote. I have struggled with my weight since I can remember eating food. I used to stare at the big clock on the wall in elementary school just waiting for lunchtime. Now when I'm at work it's my cellphone I pull out to see what time it is! Food has always been my "friend", only to cause the horrible guilt and self loathing after I've overeaten or binged. I've read hundreds of self help books, spent thousands of dollars on Weight Watchers, diet pills, etc. etc. Now in my 60's and having to stand on my feet all day at work, the excess weight really hurts physically. I've given up and decided the hell with trying to control it, but then I'm really off and running. I don't know what the answer is. I went to a class at Unity years ago. Can't remember the woman's name...but her whole premise was that we needed to love ourselves. She suggested rubbing lotion on ourselves lovingly every night before bed (God, this sounds absurd as I write it!) and blessing and appreciating our bodies. I think there is something to that, but I need to go deeper than that. Well, know you're not alone, sister! In my opinion it's not all about the calories/physical part, as society focuses on, it's such an emotional "dis-ease".I've been a member of Overeaters Anonymous for years.that helps w/the support-if I'll go to the meetings..I guess your last sentence is what I need to do."just keep moving forward"... Love you, friend, and btw, I think you're great-intelligent way beyond your years, funny as heck, witty strong woman. I bet if you walked up to India and didn't know it was you, you would want her as a best friend!

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    1. Thanks, Denise! It really means a lot to know others relate. The sad thing is many women use food and or their bodies as a voice. I guess we need to use more of our actual voice. Thanks for your support in reading my blog. You really made my day.

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  2. Oh India! I ache reading this. I have some knowledge of what it feels like to believe that the world would be better if you weren't in it, but not to the degree you've dealt with it. You are so bright, and joyful, and you spread that wherever you go. You are a beautiful gift to this world. You enrich so many lives. I wish I could hug you until the pain goes away, but I know that's not how it works. It is a war you have to win alone. Don't forget how many people love and support you, who will cheer you on, who will hold your hand, give you a shoulder to cry on, who will gladly do all they can to help you clean your wounds and heal. Your body IS a temple, and you are the Divine that lives in it. You deserve every bite of healthy food, to keep your temple well so you can continue to share the Divine Light you are, and you deserve the sweets and comfort food too, because occasional indulgence is good for the soul. You deserve so much good, dear India, and you have countless people who will support you in your journey. You will get there. <3

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    1. I'm still a work in progress, Marj. As my Granny used to say, please be patient with me. God is not through with me yet. Thanks for all the love and support you send my way. This outlet has helped me to grow. Thanks for giving it your time. Hugs!

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