LIVING WITH BULIMIA

My name is Jennifer. From many people's viewpoints, I lead a "perfect" life. I am 18, have just graduated from high school with high honours, and am expected to have a bright future ahead of me. However, these expectations can be easily ruined because of something that I have been struggling with for so long: bulimia.

I started out in my dieting/nutrition phase around the age of 13. There were times where I would eat normally and times where I would eat barely anything. When I picked up running as a sport, things got worse. I used this as an antidote to the calories I had just ingested. Those were carefully counted, but I would sometimes have a "binge" - eating a forbidden food or eating too much of even a healthy food! Gradually, my eating habits got so that I would not want to face the fact that I was eating; I would eat standing up or while engaging in some other activity. To see the food on the plate and to realise that I would be eating it was a fact that I didn't want to accept. I also developed that habit of taking tiny portions, but then repeatedly going back for seconds. Again, I didn't want to see all of that "evil food" which I was about to ingest.

My weight stayed fairly low throughout the next few years, but I gradually began to develop - the inevitable process of female maturation. I did not like it. However, I began to accept it more and normalise my eating when I joined the high school track team. I liked the fact that I could eat and eat and not gain. When I developed an injury that prevented me from running I still wanted to eat those amounts (probably because of the fact that I had been depriving myself for the past couple of years). Eventually, the obsession for food increased. During the winter I put on a few kilos, which put me at a "perfect" - but unacceptable in my eyes - weight. This depressed me, and I was perpetually trying to lose the weight I had gained.

The next year was about the same; still obsessed with weight but trying to make peace with myself through exercise. Schoolwork made me quite stressed, as I tried to maintain a high ranking and participate in every other activity that I could.

The next year, things changed. Pressures grew within the family and I became very sensitive to every outward matter. I began to focus a lot on weight. The summer of my sophomore year I had a very odd eating schedule; awake late and eat a combined (large) breakfast and lunch, then have an afternoon snack. Many times I would lose control, eating one more granola bar or a few more pieces of candy than I wanted. In a frenzied craze I would rush out of my house to take a long bike ride, which would often alleviate or at least damper my feelings of guilt. (I later realised that this was setting up a binge/purge syndrome). In the evening; still somewhat full from my afternoon eating, I would be rushed to a class or band rehearsal or something else of the sort. Needless to say, I didn't WANT to be at these places during the end of summer. When my mother went into the hospital for an operation, even more chaos ensued. I was the responsible person, in charge of the house and my younger sisters. My father was at work very often, as he owned his own business. When he returned home, dinner was supposed to be ready, the house in order, and it would be time to visit Mom. I really didn't like to be under so much pressure, and I was becoming very depressed as my mother had a close encounter with cancer. Fortunately, she did not have it, but I was already nervous and guilt-ridden. I was fed up with the situation and angry at life. That is when I started vomiting. Late one night, I saw leftover cake on the table, ate some (more than I wanted, which was always happening anyway), and I "freaked out". I felt that I HAD to get rid of the evil food within me. There was no way to go running or on a bike ride, for it was dark out. I decided I'd try what I'd read about.

After the first few experiences vomiting, I absolutely hated it and resolved to never do it again. However, I knew that I wouldn't keep that promise. I only did it occasionally, but started again when my sister was in the hospital. That was so difficult for me, as I had always had a problem with her. I loved her so much, but I was terribly jealous of her.

This was just the beginning. I ended up doing it a few times a week and sometimes daily throughout my junior year. I would try to stop but never did for a prolonged amount of time. My grades and other aspects of my life worsened, and I felt like I was having a mental breakdown.

That summer, another traumatic event happened within my family and at this time I began cutting myself. I was depressed, bulimic, slightly obsessive-compulsive, and now self-injurious. I felt like the lowest person on earth. I didn't want to tell my friends, for fear I was not thin enough or that they would think me "crazy". My weight did stay normal, as does that of many bulimics. I hated that fact and was constantly obsessed with my figure. My mother tried to talk sense into me, but I didn't want to hear it. My father remained unattached and uninvolved thinking that "it was all in my head". When my senior year started, I was bingeing and purging daily and sometimes multiple times a day. I ended up telling my doctor and was referred to a psychiatrist, but I didn't go until months later. I was always pursuing "ultimate thinness", the look of an eating-disordered person, but it never happened. Therefore I would take out the razor and cut myself.

Around April of that year, I was sick of this all. I opened up to my mother and actually went to a psychiatrist. It was all terribly humiliating for me to step into a mental health building, especially since most people thought me totally together. When things got worse, I was referred to a partial hospital program. This would be embarrassing for me, since I would have to explain to my teachers and friends about my absence. Nonetheless, I did it.

The program helped me very much, especially in the way of stabilising my eating. I met other people there who had the same problem, and all of the staff were very caring. I returned to school a few weeks later and finished the year. I had some slips, but tried - and relied on God - to get through. He worked things out so marvellously; my teachers were compassionate, my friends understanding, and schoolwork very do-able. During my most stressful times I started reverting back to the eating-disorder and self-injurious behaviour, but many times the Lord stopped and saved me from it.

At this point, I am about to attend college. The past summer was both good and bad for me. I slipped a few times and even began to return to my negative thinking. However, this did not continue for too long. I am still struggling, and I am often thinking - do I really want to recover? - but the Lord is constantly pulling me back. I've found the most support within my church and my family; I have even made progress with my dad. I praise God for all the things He has done in my life, and I know that this will eventually be dealt with - In Him Who is able to do all things.