The disease

My first encounter with bulimia was in college.  Growing up with a mom who could make herself vomit, it came naturally for me.  I also had positive testimonials from girlfriends about the results of "forced food."  I remember consuming pints of ice cream, throwing it up, and eating more.  I would go out to dinner with friends and excuse myself to the bathroom.  I would vomit two or three times a day to control my weight and still be able "to eat."  After about three months of this cycle, my throat started hurting and my breath was awful.  I decided that this was not for me....so I started to starve myself.

Starving was no better than vomiting.  My metabolism was going crazy.  I couldn't loose weight and I was becoming desperate so I stopped eating.  I would live off lettuce and saltine crackers.  Talk about moody.  It started to effect my thinking abilities in school, my social life, and my relationship with my friends.  There had to be a better way. 

Low and behold, it was called proper nutrition and exercise but not exercise compulsion.  I analyzed what I was eating, how much I was eating, and at what times I was eating.  Calorie counted.  I picked up walking around Charleston's downtown area and then running.  I used to run every night and some mornings.  I think I was running away from me.  If I didn't run, I would start to obsess about gaining weight.  If I couldn't run, I was doing jumping jacks, crunches and running on the spot in my dorm room.  Again not healthy.....

I finally found a balance.  I joined a gym.  I met the most wonderful people at Sweat's Gym.  The owner took me under her wing and helped me through my disorder.  She will never know how much I appreciate her helping me through the darkness. 

I still battle exercise compulsion.  I have to tell myself that the fat didn't happen over night and missing a day in the gym isn't going to hurt me.  I have to force myself to take a day or I could exercise everyday, 2 to 3 hours a day.  It drives my husband nuts!

My mom

I miss my mom.  She passed away a couple of years ago due to complications with medicines, back pain, and a loss of hope.  My mom was everything I wanted to be when I was young.  It wasn't until later that I realized that my mom battled demons.

My mother battled a controlled drug addiction.  At one point, it escalated to illegal drug abuse.  She was admitted to several rehabs but the results never lasted.  It wasn't until I was in college when she finally got cleaned. (Praise God!).  She was clean for years until she started experiencing unexplained back pain. 

I am not sure if was the medicine, vanity, or both that made my mom aneroxic.  My mom would eat and then go vomit.  I brushed it off.  I reasoned it was her sickness and the medicine.  It wasn't until later that I realized it was the disease.  This was my first experience with aneroxia and body image. 

My mom was skinny.  I wanted so badly to look like my mom.  I thought she was the ideal woman.  I know now that it was the children size rose colored glasses creating this image.  Being in my thirties, I reflect on my mom's trial and errors with fad diets.  She was always on a diet.  Eating this, not eating that.  Drinking this, not drinking that.  Eat, vomit, eat, take diet pills, and not eat at all.  I remember my mom going for days not eating.  I thought this was normal. 

I tried so hard to look like her that it was my downward spiral in college.  I gained my freshman 15 and my mom said "Wow, what have you been eating?"  Talk about a kick in the gutt.  I had to do something.  If my mom thought I was fat, what does everyone else see.  This reaction kicked off my aneroxia and fitness complusion.