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Solacing Hell

By: "Tired Of This Shit"

Over five years now.... Five fucking years of my life, stolen away from me by something I know more intimately than I will ever fully vocalize. Where could I ever summon courage -- or put away the shame long enough ... to let the outsiders in? To speak of this truly grotesque "thing"?

Where do you even begin? And why?

Let's see right now, I am sitting in an empty house. I have been binging and purging -- I have "stuffed" my "strechy" tummy to its extreme -- topped off with H2O until I feel I am going to burst... and THEN I DO! -- And relief and shame -- and then "numbness" CONSUME me ... And then, almost robotically, I clean up... wash my hands and face, blow my nose (sometimes clean food out of my nose) wipe my watering eyes, then slowly (bracing myself), I take my eyes to the mirror to see just how much bigger -- and more damage, I just did to my already enormous and acid-bloated face. Then I try to JUST GO NUMB -- and carry on -- and forget... because "THAT" was definitely the "Last" time. Always is.

I tell myself, "Tomorrow you are going to turn over a new leaf -- this time for sure!" -- "C'MON! ... Just swallow your 15 pink or orange pills ... and your Tylenol PM ... brush your teeth, rinse, and go to bed" (hoping the swell of your cheeks goes down some by morning).

It's as though "this" has become my "status quo" -- When did I become 'okay' with this? Why does "this" feel like such a confidant? -- Such a comfortable friend? ALL that I know? I don't even cry anymore about it.

When I launch into a binge I lose all hope of productivity -- I don't even answer my phone -- I WANT NO INTERRUPTIONS. I can't think or focus on anything except what to eat next.

I know that's supposedly why 'we' do it -- so we don't HAVE to think... to escape something painful. I don't know if that's always the case for me --- I do it b/c it seems like the more attractive alternative a lot of times... especially to being BORED (which I hate). And I do it because it's HABIT. Also, once I'm in a cycle of more than a day or two, it's hard to snap out of it. -- I dream about going home early just to do it again... alone... in this solacing hell.

That SHOULD be an oxymoron ... and it's not. And THAT'S what no one will ever understand ... unless they've been here.

AND, finally, I do it because I can. Because, (minus the huge face) -- I'm pretty "good" at it. I know what foods work ... and what don't. I know the solid/liquid ratios to use. Good God -- I have had intimate relations with over 25 toilets at least --- Gas station bathrooms, work bathrooms, public, restaurant, relatives, hotels... God, I'm fucking nauseous.

And yet... I accept this???
How? When did I abandon all respect for my body and my self-worth? Was it ever there?

I feel like I have so far to go. And yet I feel like I have come so far... It no longer controls my life to the point that I am an unproductive member of society ---

(Long sigh...) I don't know. I have acknowledged so many of my flaws... "over-indulgence (food & alcohol), instant gratification, extremities, All-or-Nothing attitude, overspending" --- But acknowledging my weaknesses is not enough, if I continue to indulge in them. I know that I am in for a long, hard road if I don't fucking suck it up and "take" my life back!

FUCK my laziness
FUCK my old, easy habits of binge/purge
FUCK what deceives me as being "comfort"
FUCK that betraying "comrade"

I don't want to give up anymore years ... I want to change my habits... and embrace the discipline necessary to maintain.

I want to wake up everyday and rejoice in my independence and individuality -- and relish in the though of finally feeling the confidence that comes with knowing I have conquered this "thing" -- though, not without humbling myself with the reminder of 'how and why' it all works: hard work and discipline. Right?

And then hopefully, once I get a full sense of my own confidence, conviction, and spirit --- I can find the room to love myself and BE loved.

©2001 TOTS. Reprinted with Permission.

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