Some More of God’s Greatest Mistakes

My considered opinion, as as expert in this area, is that my very worst times are when my bulimia becomes a foregone conclusion.  The black hole looms large and my fears of passing the event horizon start to seem either realized or, at best, inevitable.  I’m a bulimic and I always will be, and nothing and no one can help things.

These periods have days where I don’t fight- where I wake up planning when and how and on what I’ll binge and purge.  Those are the worst days, except that the days where I do fight and give it my all only to surrender at 4pm or 6pm or 9pm or midnight might be ever harder.  There’s no reasoning with me if I give in after having promised myself I wouldn’t- I simply can’t believe I’ll ever have another day in my life when I can get through all the way to bedtime without puking junk food into my toilet.

To me that idea, the thought that I can’t escape this no matter how hard I try, is poison.  Although I know there’s more I could have done when I came back from treatment last summer- and I never expected treatment to be a cure, just a starting place- the thought that I could have put so much effort into trying to escape this disorder only to end up right back where I started feels like a life sentence, no parole possible.

I wish there was a way for me to believe, in the midst of a time like that, that at some point there will be a break and a few rays of sun will begin to get through again.  I don’t know at all what makes the difference between the times I try my hardest and fail and the times when I start having some power over myself, but I do know that so far the times when fighting is impossible have always passed, eventually.  It doesn’t make it less real when I’m in it- but sooner or later a day comes when I try and actually succeed.

I’ve had another 2 days straight without purging, and at last I’m starting to feel ready to think what I want to do to build on this.  Probably getting back in touch with my nutritionist and therapist would be a good place to start things.  I’m still not sure I believe recovery for me is possible, but I do, at least, believe again that there’s some chance of my escaping.  That event horizon might be real, or it might just a monster I’ve dreamed up to torment myself with.  But real or not, I don’t think I’ve passed over it.