This is Very Graphic.
About 2 weeks ago, I did something horrible. Something that I hadn’t thought of doing, or had the urge to do in several years. I made myself throw up. I did it in the same manner as I did the last time I made myself upchuck: Sitting in the shower, with almost scalding hot water hitting my back, I knelt down over the drain. I made sure that I pulled all of the hair out first, so that none of the chunks would get caught in the clumps. The whirring of the bathroom fan in the background, intended to block out any sounds I might make whilst doing this awful act to myself.
I tickled my throat with my two fingers. A sensation I’d forgotten about. It took me a few tries before anything came up. I almost gave up, discouraged by the lack of substance coming back up from my stomach. I called every attempt after the first “my last try” until I finally got what I wanted. That was the trick I always played on myself. Similar to the same mantra “my last pull” (referring to hair pulling, rather than self induced vomiting). I threw up until there was nothing left. It only took 4 times for that to happen. I almost got out of the shower to drink more water, thinking maybe I could get more out if I tried.
I forgot how comforting it can be to make myself throw up. It’s a warm feeling. Way different than when you have the stomach flu: You have more control. It’s slower. It’s not painful (well… it is, but not in the same gut retching way). I also forgot how terrifyingly awful it is.
The way the thought sneaks in at my weakest moments. How easily I accept it at reasonable and okay, ignoring the reality: That it is not okay. It is not reasonable. It is not safe. It is not a solution.
The way I am able to lie to myself. Convincing myself I can control it. That I can handle it. That I know what I’m doing.
I am not ashamed of myself for relapsing. That day was a reminder of why it’s important to ignore and avoid situations where I have the opportunity to purge. It was also a reminder of how far I have come from where I was 8 years ago.
A few weeks ago (maybe it was a month ago), I was visiting one of my friends up at her college, and everyone was sitting around in a circle chatting. One of the guys in the room started talking about this hot girl and how he was really disappointed because she got a dyke haircut. Then everyone was putting their two cents in about it for like 20 minutes and how they didn’t like the new dykey haircut trend (shaved side of the head, pixie cuts, etc.). I so badly want to get a “dyke” haircut and then when they tell me I look like a dyke, I can say “I was a dyke before I got this haircut. Bisexual, born and raised.”
Yeah, I think this would be a great way to come out and also a great way to metaphorically shove my middle finger up all of their asses.
I want to stop bingeing
I want to stop pulling my hair out
I want to stop being compulsive