My Stories

Just want to share my good news of 26 days binge/purge free! Can I hear a 'wohoooooo'? I haven't gone 26 days behaviour free this year, so I'm super happy. The sun is shining, which also makes me happy, and I've been working today, singing along to the radio and just feel really good.

I'd like to tell you a few stories of my life with ED, some of which disgusted me at the time, some of make me sad and some of which make me determined to get better.

As you know I've dug quite deep, told some of my deepest thoughts and memories, but in this chapter, I'd like to reveal how secretive Bulimia is. If you feature in this chapter, I will apologise for my untruths. I am not a liar on a day to day basis, but ED sometimes takes over. This isn't an excuse, its an explanation.
As I said in my 'coming clean' chapter, people who are close to me wondered how they could not have known about my secret life, and blame themselves for not recognising the signs. This is my point, there are no signs, well for me anyway.

Ask anyone with an eating disorder, and they will tell you that they have a catalogue of excuses filed away for any situation uncovered.


On coming out of the toilet with a red face from throwing up.
'Why is your face all blotchy?'
Me; 'oh, I had a bit of a coughing fit in the toilet'

'What's this weird frothy stuff down the toilet?' (You know when flush sick away, and it doesn't quite all go)
'Oh, I had some phlegm in my throat, so I spat it down the toilet'

'Why is the outside drain blocked with Spaghetti Bolognaise?'
'Oh it must be our neighbour's waste disposal running into our waste pipes'

By the way, none of these situations ever arose, I was always too good at covering them up! I just had the excuses ready, just in case they ever did! 

All sounds pretty grim doesn't it? It is. And this is why Bulimia is such a self loathing, shameful illness. Because you have these excuses ready to lie to your best friend, husband, family etc.

I have never been caught. I wish I had, because I might not have had to suffer this long.

Right my stories! Sorry if I deviate at times, I've got what feels like a lifetime of stories.


Gaucho meal!


On special occasions, when Steve and I have money to spare, we like to go for nice meals. We enjoy our food, like good wine, so around 3 times a year, we go and spend quite a bit of money on a good restaurant. It was Steve's birthday. We decided to go to Gaucho at The O2. We saved up and had £200 to splash on dinner and wine! We couldn't wait.

Let me deviate here, I have foods that I don't mind throwing up, foods that just come up without too much force. Steak isn't one them! Steak is really tough to throw up, as it's such a dry food. No matter how much water I drink with dinner, it's hard work, and afterwards, I feel like i've done a work out with my stomach muscles aching from all of the wretching.

So, we go to The O2, and went for a drink beforehand. On entering Gauchos, it looked amazing. We felt like millionaires for the night. We didn't look at prices, we just ordered what we wanted, a bottle of champagne, this, that and the other! It was gorgeous. If you haven't ever been to Gaucho, please don't let my story put you off. It's lovely!

After our meal, I felt stuffed. And I felt guilty that i'd let myself eat so much! Table for 3? Yep, ED was there all of a sudden. Off I go to the plush, marble ladies room.
I tried, nothing. I tried again... sometimes it takes a few heaves to get it up. I tried again. I get a lump of steak stuck in my throat! A lump of fillet steak stuck in my throat. 'Ok, i'm going to die here' i'm actually choking on this piece of steak. I put my hand in my mouth and have to pull this piece of steak out of my throat. 'Now that was scary Lou, what the hell are you doing?'

I come out of the toilet cubical and look at my red face in the mirror. What would a normal person do having nearly just choked to death on a piece of steak? Not what I proceeded to do anyway! Leaning my head over the sink, I start guzzling water out of the tap. Lots of water! Just so that I can go in the toilet and try to throw up the rest of my dinner! And I did! I didn't choke anymore, and I managed to get most of my steak up!

Steve asked me why i'd been so long, and I blamed it on my IBS and that i'd got a dodgy belly. He had no reason to suspect me did he? 


Getting referred this time round


So my relapse started in the summer last year. I'm not sure why, but it kicked off without warning! One minute i'm nearly 3 years behaviour free (yep, 3 bloody years) and all of a sudden i'm taking laxatives again, skipping meals, throwing up the odd meal every now and then. I let myself have a fling with ED before coming clean to Steve in October. I told him that I was struggling again, and needed to go back to the doctor. My wonderful Doctor! He is brilliant!
So I go back and tell him that it's kicked off again. Oh wait, I don't have private healthcare anymore, so it means NHS. I don't have anything against the NHS by the way, but when you've had private healthcare, going on waiting lists on the NHS sucks arse big time! Call me a medical snob!

I had to call a charity called Time to Talk, they assessed me and decided what treatment i'd need and referred me to The Maudsley Hospital. Just for this 1st process to happen, took me into November. I was getting more and more depressed, more and more obsessed with ED. My recovery had gone out of the window!!!
The day before Christmas eve, I received a letter from The Maudsley asking me to call them within the next 14 days to book an appointment with them. I put the letter away and promised myself that i'd phone them next week once Christmas was over. I didn't! I waited until the 14th day and called them. I was now in a place where I didn't actually want to get better. ED was back and he wanted to stay! He'd taken over again!
They gave me 2 possible appointments. One for 3 weeks after that, or one for 7 weeks after that. I chose the one for 7 weeks after! I could stay with ED for 7 more weeks. Yay me!!!!

Then it hit me what i'd done one day. I was at my sister Kristel's house, doing her cleaning. I was in a fairly good mood. I had my ipod on and was singing away whilst hoovering and my recovery song came on. Jessie J, Who you are. I sat down and listened to it, and found myself crying. I wasn't ok. If you listening to the song, it's like it was made for me! My crying turned to a full on panic attack! I had no-one who I could call. Kristel was having a bad week with work, Steve was having his 1st exam the day after, and I couldn't stress him out, Emma was at work, Jessica was at work, My Dad was in Thailand! My Mum was at work. And I didn't want to bother anyone.
So I wrote a email, to no-one in particular saying what a state I was in. I was in a terrible state and having this huge panic attack - My sister's dog George was giving me a funny scared kind of a look, bless him!

I sent the email to my friend EJ. I knew that she'd be able to email me straight back and calm me the hell down. She didn't dissapoint. She calmed me down! Thanks Edge!!!!! She knows all of the ups and downs that i've had with ED, and she said all of the right things.


The most ashamed I have ever been of ED!

In 2005, Steve and I got married. The most amazing day ever. We had the best ever wedding and let's face it, I had married the best man in the world. No divorces for me!
We lived in a small flat in Staines. This was our first proper home together, and somewhere that we called our sanctuary. We had quite a rough start as a couple with places to live, so when we got our little flat in Staines, it was amazing. We had lived there for maybe 2 years by the time we got married, and shortly after our wedding, we got a call from our landlord to say that he was putting the flat on the market.

'Fuck' What were we going to do?

We sat and spoke about moving to somewhere else, but we had a few credit card bills, a loan from our wedding, and wasn't really in a position to be moving. We wanted to pay off our small debt and maybe save for a mortgage. We racked our brains of ways to pay less rent, NO rent even.
We had a night at my Mum and Step Dad Martin's house. They live in Orpington, which is close to where all of my family live, and we told them our plight. Martin didn't hesitate in saying 'Move in with us. As long as you pay your way, you're welcome. We don't want any rent!'

Brilliant. We could pay off some debt and get saving! It'll only be a few months.

Part of me was exstatic, part of me (ED) was quivering in my boots. 2 more people to hide from. 2 more people to share a bathroom with.

But I put ED to the back of my mind, and within weeks we were moving to Orpington to Wittey Towers (Mum and Martin's house by the way).
We had a great time, and it wasn't that bad. We get on so well with M&M (Mum and Martin) and I sort of put ED on a backburner. He could bloody well wait. I was a newly wed and I was having fun, I was getting out of debt and I was going to buy a house soon! But he was always there really!


The scariest thing my Mum has ever said to me
'Oh Louise, just to let you know, we're having the bathroom done next month'

Why is that scary right?
I'd heard stories about bathrooms being 'done' It could take weeks, months! But Mum assured me that the builders had told her 'Two Weeks'
Why were the words from Money Pitt (Tom Hanks) screaming in my ears! 2 weeks! NO BATHROOM FOR 2 WEEKS.

For all that know me, I'm a very clean person, like to look nice, shower/bath at least once a day (don't most people?), but I had showers in work for that. I could go in early and shower in the gym. But what the hell was I going to do without a flushing toilet for 2 weeks, maybe more? Where was I going to be sick?

The works begun on the bathroom, and when I came home from work the 1st day, the bathroom had been ripped to shreds. There was no bath, no sink, the tiles were hanging from the walls, the ceiling barely there. THE LOCK FROM THE DOOR GONE!!!!!
I got ED under control for a couple of days, and at dinner times, I resisted the urge to purge. But ED was waiting in the wings on Friday night. Chinese night.

To cut a LONG story even longer, sorry, I mean short; I over ate at dinner that night, not on purpose, I just love chinese night, but I had the full intention of 'being good'
ED joined the party around 9pm. We'd all had a few drinks, the music was playing, so I went upstairs to the toilet and 'to make a call'

This is the most shame I ever felt throughout my 'Secret years'
I sat in our bedroom, yes, our bedroom, back against the door, with 2 plastic bags (1 inside the other), and threw up the contents of my stomach into it. I knew that no-one would come up stairs, so I was partially safe, but baricading myself into the room was a 2nd precaution.

What to do with the bag of sick? What the hell do I do with a bag of sick? I got a newspaper out of my handbag that i'd read that morning, and placed the bag of reguritated chinese onto it. I then proceeded to wrap it up. I placed that into another bag and celotaped it up. A lot of celotape. Then hid it under the bed.

I went back down stairs and continued the evening like nothing had happened....with a bag of sick under my bed.

I kept that bag there until Monday when I went to work.......with a bag of sick in my Gucci bag. I threw it away on my way to work and felt such shame. A bag of sick! YUK.

Until now, i've only told Steve and my therapist about that. Now i'm sharing it with hundreds of people to show you what lengths someone with this illness goes to! 

Food, Food, everywhere!

When ED is present, everything is about food, weight and more food! It's like every single advert on the tele is directed at me - McDonalds, KFC, Dominoes, Slimming World, Weight Watchers, M&S food. And ED, well of course, he's the director. When I'm at work and driving along, every single bus stop has a poster that is directed to me. EAT ME, EAT ME! 'Go on, get a Burger King. It's fine, you can be sick as soon as you've eaten it!' And believe me, I have given into those temptations many, many times! And every single time, I vow it's the last time!

In my early days of Bulimia, I really thought that I could control when I stopped. I always thought that I was just using it as a way to maintain my weight, loose a few lbs before a holiday, wedding, party etc. It's such a strange illness, as ED makes you feel like you could never live without him. Like a abusive partner telling his beaten wife that she's not good enough for anyone else, and it's her fault she's being beaten. But then profusely apologising and saying that they will not ever do it again!  That's what ED does. He talks down to me, makes me feel ugly and fat, that i'm no better than a being a dumbass Bulimic! My self esteem gets crushed down, and so I give in and find myself binging, then purging. After, I vow that i'll never ever do it again! If only!

You know when you're on a diet, and all you can think about is how hungry you are? All you fancy is all of the naughty foods that you're not meant to be eating? My whole life feels like it's been a continuous diet where I just want the naughty foods. And with Bulimia, I have binged on these foods. A lot. 

 I've said before, I have done every diet in the book. I think I've been on a diet everyday since I was about 11. Looking back at photos, I wasn't even a chubby kid, just a run of the mill child. But I always felt fat. I always felt like I needed to loose weight, hated my body and constantly compared to myself to those around me, including friends and family, but mainly to what the media as perceives as perfection. Constantly fighting to get into the right size outfit, cursing my height, because if I were 3inches taller, I'd look slimmer.
I hated that I developed boobs at the young age of 9. I was in a proper bra and I wasn't even out of primary school yet. All of my girl friends thought it was cool, wished they could have a bra, but for me, it was just something that made me stand out from everyone else. I had lumps and I just thought that they made me look fat.

Anyway, getting back to food.
I actually love food. Eating and drinking is one of my favourite things to do. Entertaining people is when I'm in my element. Cooking gorgeous food for people and enjoying their reaction to it. I don't give myself too many compliments, but I can cook! And I think its because I have a passion for it. I'm not nervous with mixing flavours, trying new things, and even though I get slightly apprehensive that the receiver of my food won't like it as much as I'd hoped that they would, that's just part of who I am.
It probably sounds weird that someone would throw up perfectly good food even though they'd enjoyed it so much. Sometimes I think that's the problem though. I enjoy food so much that I don't want to stop eating. I get that full up feeling where you don't think you can finish the meal, but then ED switches on, and its like I get to have my cake and eat it, if you pardon the pun. I get to eat it all, because its so good, but not have to suffer the horrid full up, can't move, feel like you need a sleep bit!
But let me tell you, there is a difference between over eating and binging. Over eating is just that. Eating too much. Maybe 1 too many slices of bread with your dinner, having an extra portion after you've finished dinner even though you are full up.
Binging is a totally different thing. Its like there isn't enough food in the world to fill you up. I've had competitions in my own head before, challenging me to eat more than I did the last time I binged. 3 McDonalds meals in 1 sitting. 18 slices of bread, a whole quiche, sausage rolls, pitta breads...can you see a pattern here. Its mainly carbs. All of things that we've all grown up to 'think' are the bad food group. But let me tell you, no food group is bad. We need them all. Fats, carbs, protein, etc. That's why any diet where you cut one group out will never work, because your body actually craves it, needs it to function properly. Oh yeah, I know everything there is to know about nutrition. This ties in with doing every diet, and eventually getting obsessed with that diet! And having seen a dietitian once a week in my Crazy Lady Priory days! I know it all, well a lot anyway, but putting that useful, sensible knowledge to use, I let ED convince me that's its all crap!

Getting back to the present, its 14th June 2012 today, and I'm 3 weeks behaviour free, wohooo! But I have to say, its been an up and down week. Times where what I'm eating isn't really an issue, but times where I'm all consumed with food. Again, its the posters at Bus Stops advertising the latest meal deal at KFC, smelling fish and chips when I pick Amelie up from school and all I can think of is how hungry I am, and today, walking around the supermarket and looking at all of the foods that I've binged on in the past. 
Even though ED isn't always in control, he's always lurking in the background. Always there with his opinion of how I look, what I should eat, how much I should eat.
As I get stronger in mind, I find it easier to ignore ED a lot more. But it's a constant battle, and even at my healthiest time (in mind), I still had daily visits from him.

At the moment, i'm a really good place. I'm eating healthy, allowing myself treats and basically getting on with life. My therapy is doing me the world of good and i'm learning so much! I'm understanding where this behaviour has come from. I won't bore you with my therapy details, as it's very personal and very raw. I may delve into at times, but for the moment, lets just say that i'm digging up a lot of old crap and sorting it out.

For anyone who hasn't had therapy, let me tell you what's it's like. Its all about me. I don't think of myself as a selfish person, but my therapy is all for me. An hour of talking about what I want to talk about. Focus on how I feel. I'm not someones child, someones friend, i'm not a Mum, a wife or an employee. I'm Louise, and I can spend the entire session talking about what makes me happy, sad, what I want from life, what I want to achieve in the 20 sessions that I have. And it's great.
Don't get me wrong, it's bloody hard work. I always wear waterproof mascara on therapy days, as I know, chances are, I will have a cry about something or another. Sometimes I cry because i'm so happy, and I've had a brilliant week and feel so positive. Sometimes I cry because the memory that i'm talking about that particular session is very upsetting. Or thinking about how I got into this mess in the beginning, wanting more for my own daughter, and feeling upset that one day she's going to know that her Mum has a problem, and wandering if she'll follow in my footsteps. I've been told it's not hereditary or even learnt behaviour, but it still scares me everyday that Amelie might have to deal with this shit too. This is why I got help in the beginning.

Writing this blog has also been a huge therapy for me. The reason I started to write about it, was basically because of how I felt when I came out of my 1st therapy session about a month ago. I felt dreadful. I was confused, upset and just thought 'this is the worst I have ever felt'. Believe me, it wasn't. I read my old diary from when I was in the Priory. From my sessions back then, 4 years ago. And I realised how bad I was then. How low I got, how I felt like I had the weight of the world on my shoulders! And it made me realise that I didn't always feel like that, and eventually, i'll have more good days than bad days. So I started to write a diary again, just so that I can look back and see how far i've come this time too!
That then turned into deciding that I wanted to let you read my thoughts. A very brave move, considering what i've told you so far. Very, very personal details of my life. Some that I know people will wonder why i've dug so deep in such a public way. My reason.... I want people, you, to understand how my mind works. And not just mine. Millions of other people out there who are suffering with Bulimia, Anorexia, Over eating. And many more mental illnesses. I've had the most amazing response to this blog, and it's blown me away. I've had messages from complete strangers congratulating me, telling me how inspiring I am to be so honest. People admitting to me that they too have a problem, sometimes not an eating disorder, but depression, too much booze etc. If i've helped a handful of people in sharing my experiences, then that's all that matters. It sort of means that my Eating Disorder wasn't in vain.

And for all of the messages that I have received, thank you so much. It means so much to me that you are following my story with interest, intrigue and learning about this very secret illness. And I really hope that i'm taking the stigma away from it too. It's not embarrassing, it's not disgusting, it's an illness.
All of your messages, tweets and texts have spurred me on to keep going. You are helping me through this shitty time, just by reading it. And I will continue to blog until i've bored you to tears, told you every aspect of the illness and how it effects my life. So stay tuned! Chapter 7 is on it's on way!  x

Coming Clean!

For anyone who has demons to fight, admitting these things to yourself is the hardest part of the start of your journey into recovery. It could be depression, drug addiction, alcoholism, gambling.. Whatever it is, its hard to admit to yourself! I hid from my demons for over 10 years! Maybe more! I was conscience of the problem, but ignoring it is always the easier option...but not in the end, because that issue just gets bigger and bigger. You stick your head in the sand for long enough and soon enough you'll suffocate! I was at suffocation stage in 2008!

2008 started off the best year of my life! On 13th January, I gave birth to my long awaited baby girl. It was the proudest and most loving feeling I have ever had! Amelie came along and made this huge impact on my life! She changed the dynamics of my outlook on life. Even before she was here, she changed me. From the day I found out I was pregnant, ED left me. No arguments, he literally just upped and left! My body was no longer up for abuse, I was the keeper of my little bundle of joy, my little Tarquin, which was the name we referred to Amelie as the whole time I was pregnant!

During my pregnancy however, I felt completely out of control of my body. I was growing by the day, and my appetite was huge! It was the 1st time in my whole life that I ate and ate and didn't feel guilty, didn't have the urge to get rid. But on occasions when I'd weigh in, and see a few gained lbs, turn to 5 stone, I did feel pissed off with myself that I'd let myself gain so much weight. But hey, I'm pregnant! Oh well. I guess ED may have had a little role in these thoughts, but I think it was mainly of a young woman who just put on a little too much weight.

Going back to Amelie. She arrived, and I basked in my new found happiness! It was honestly the best time of my life.
I gave myself a week after having had Amelie to just eat whatever I wanted, and to start to reign my diet in after that. It worked, for a while. I started to loose weight, but it was too slow. And my body shape had changed. I had this droopy, stretch mark laden belly. Now, even at my slimmest, I've never had a super model belly, but this disgusted me. I didn't even want Steve to look at it.

Soon enough I started laxatives again. I don't remember being sick for the 1st time after having Amelie, but I do remember that as soon as I done it, that it was it, and I was hooked again! I went from 15st 9lbs (at 42 weeks pregnant), down to about 11 stone in about 3 months. That's a lot of weight to loose.
I remember feeling this weird nagging in my head that wasn't me and wasn't ED, it was what I became to know as recovery looming. Up till this point, I always I had a problem, but it was only now that I was serious about stopping it.
But hang on, we've got a holiday coming up in June, our 1st as a family. I can't tell Steve about this now, it'll ruin our holiday, besides, I'd like to be a few lbs lighter before we go anyway! I'll come clean after we get back! Another excuse!

All of this time, I was still so blissfully happy in my new role as Mum, but the EDness was always lurking.


As most people will know, I was a member of an online forum for a long time. When Steve and I decided to start trying for a baby, I joined an Actively trying forum of which we were on for a year. Then when we got a glorious news of pregnancy, moving onto the January 2008 forum, for this was when Amelie was due to be born. This forum was Babycenter! Now, I don't know if I would have ever come clean about my eating disorder if it wasn't for this website! That is the honest truth. Well, I probably would have done, but not at that time!

I joined the January 2008 Birth Board in 2007 and become friends with hundreds of strangers. We shared our happy stories of pregnancy, our woes of morning sickness, strange things happening to our bodies, and it was the most open way I had ever spoken to strangers about such personal things. They were faceless people. And all from different walks of life. You'd always find someone to relate to you, or help you. Now, we all chatted everyday, sometimes, all day.... Hope my ex boss isn't reading this! Woops.
So as you can see, we all grew really close.
Our pregnancy stories turned into birth stories, which then turned into baby stories, sharing tips, asking for advice, or just going on for a moan because you hadn't slept for 3 days!
This is where my recovery began. By this stage, I had returned to work. Leaving my baby at only 6 months old! This caused another bout of self abuse...starvation for days on end. Surviving on diet coke! Yes, DIET coke!
I was at work, in my role as a PA at JP Morgan, it was a particularly quiet day in the office, so I flicked over to Babycenter. A discussion about loosing baby weight looked like a very popular thread, so I started reading through the posts. Everyone was sharing their tips on weight loss, toning up, struggling with weight loss, struggling with 'old behaviours'.... oh, hang on, what's that? Old behaviours? Of what? One of the girls used to have an eating disorder, Bulimia! I read and read about this woman who was struggling with trying not to starve herself, or was eating, but was being sick for fear of not loosing her baby weight.

I'M NOT ALONE!

As I sat there reading this woman's description of hating this illness which looked like it might be returning after years of being in recovery, I began to cry. She was talking to openly about it, on a public forum. I envied her for being so honest! I hated myself for being such a liar.
I didn't post on that particular thread. I just read with interest.

I spent the rest of the day in a bit of a haze! What if I could one day come clean and not be haunted by this evil ED! I could be that lady on Babycenter who reached out and help someone else!

At this stage, I was being sick upto 10 times a day. I'd have a cup of tea, and throw that up. I was consuming around 4000 calories a day I'd estimate, and thinking I'd thrown them all up. I wasn't loosing weight, but staying the same! As I said before, calories are consumed on the way in! I was probably only getting rid of about half of what I was eating, hence the stagnant weight!
I was miserable, my face was bloated, I had cracked blood vessels in my face, my throat constantly sore, I had hemorrhoids from the laxative abuse, I couldn't go anywhere, do anything without thinking about food!

I went home and sat at the computer and composed a private message to this woman. A message of complete honesty, my 1st and most courageous moment in the start of my recovery! I spilled my heart out to this stranger, told her everything. I don't remember what I wrote, but it was probably a mass of jumbled sentences. I cried the whole time I wrote it!

SEND

WAIT
WAIT
WAIT
WAIT

Ping!
By this stage, I was pacing my house, I was a wreck. Steve wasn't yet home from work, and Amelie was napping. I was in bits. I opened this message expecting a mass of abuse, 'how dare you jump on my band wagon'!
I got the best message ever. I don't remember what this message said in detail, but I do remember that this woman reassured me that I was not alone, that I was not doing anything wrong, I had an illness and that with the right help, I'd get over it! She congratulated me on being so brave! Brave? Me? Really?

I was shaking, but this time, with elation! I could get better! I wasn't this liar that ED had made me out to be. I wasn't disgusting, I wasn't shameful, I was ill.

We messaged each other a few times, and I just felt amazing. I wanted to reach into the computer and kiss her! If she's reading this blog, she'll know who she is, but I don't think she'll know how eternally grateful I will always be to her!

After that, I had to pluck the courage up to tell Steve. How would he react? Would he be angry with me for lying for so long? Would he be disgusted with me?
I kept imagining myself telling him, and just couldn't imagine any situation other than him being angry.
I couldn't do this!

One day, I sat and wrote a letter, not to Steve, but just to whoever. A massive confession of what I'd been dealing with for 10 years. How alone I felt, how depressed I was getting. I never had any intention of giving this letter to Steve. How could I confess to such a huge thing in a letter? No way. I would tell Steve, I would sit down with him one day and tell him everything.

The days ticked by, and ED was getting more and more aggressive. He must have known that I was about to give him the boot, so he put me through the mill. I was surviving on practically no food, when I did eat, only eating half of what I'd dished up. My weight dropped by another stone or so.
Steve kept asking what was wrong, I'd sunk to a new depth of depression. I blamed it on having to be back at work and struggling with being away from Amelie. He was brilliant! He cuddled me when I needed it, and stayed clear when I needed space!

The day came when enough was enough.
25th August 2008! Bank Holiday Monday. Steve had been out to work that morning and I decided that today was the day. I was going to tell him.

He walked into the livingroom where I sat on the sofa, shaking like a leaf! Amelie was asleep. Steve's 1st reaction was that of worry. 'What's wrong?'
I couldn't talk. I began to hyper ventilate. I was hysterical. Steve was getting more and more worried. I handed him the letter. There was no way I could talk, let alone confess!

I watched at his eyes read this letter. The confusion in his face, the scared look he gave me. All I kept saying was 'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry' over and over. Steve stopped after what felt like an hour and cuddled me! He asked me why I was saying sorry. I said that I had been lying to him for so long and how could he ever forgive me.

'Louise, you have nothing to be sorry about, you are ill'

This was the best thing he could have ever said.
He said that he didn't understand, but that he'd help me as much as he could.
We talked for hours, I explained a few things, he asked questions and Steve learned a lot about my secret life!
He was angry at himself for not knowing, for never catching me, for not seeing any signs.
I was angry at myself! Steve is the most amazing man in the whole world, and here he was blaming himself.

The week went on to be really hard. I called into work sick as I was not in a very good place at all.
I made an appointment with my doctor, and on the Thursday of that week, Steve came with me to see him. It was very hard work. I had to say the words out loud! I have an eating disorder!
My doctor was amazing. Steve was amazing. I was assured that I'd done the right thing and that I would get better! I was prescribed Citalapram (an anti depressant), and referred to The Priory. I was very lucky to have private healthcare! Very lucky!

Then I had to make the call to the EDU (Eating Disorder Unit) at The Priory. They are obviously very used to dealing with such sensitive cases, and asked me lots of questions that I only had to give yes/no answers to.
I had an appointment within about 2 weeks to see a Psychiatrist!

The next 2 weeks were a hard slog! I was like a zombie. I didn't realise that I was having quite a bad reaction to the Citalapram, and just felt like I was drifting in and out of work, zoning out, and sinking further into a haze!

In this time, I told my family. I told my sister 1st. Kristel is the closest thing to me, and she also knew something was up with me. So I told her. All of the time, shaking and wondering if she was going to turn her back on me for lying for so long! I couldn't have been more wrong! She grabbed me and cuddled me so hard, whilst crying with me. She also felt angry at herself for not picking up on it. We talked for an hour or so whilst sat in my car and again, I answered questions and explained things.

I couldn't tell my Dad myself. I just thought that he'd be so disappointed in me. Kristel was kind enough to do that job for me!
And I received a phonecall later from Dad assuring me that I'd done the right thing! He was so caring and said all of the right things to make me feel better!
I think that I found it so hard to tell my Dad as I look upto him so much, I want to please him, and the thought of making him feel angry towards me, or feeling like I'd broke his trust. I was wrong! He supported me loads.

It was important for me to tell my friends and family, as I knew that this was going to be a hard time and that I was going to need support. And I didn't get one bad comment. No accusations of being a nasty, disgusting person, no withdrawal of friendship or loyalty that I'd expected. Just support.
As I've gone through my recovery, I have always had to be open about it. I spent 10 years being ashamed of myself, being secretive, lying to my friends and family! I needed to begin my new life in recovery as an honest person! And that's helped me no end! I can't tell you how much! As I'm on my 1st relapse at the moment, if I wasn't open about it, I could have gone another 10 years in this relapse, luckily I only went a month or 2 before reaching out for help!

I'll talk about my journey through recovery later, the purpose of this chapter is to let you know the state of mind I was at with ED in the lead up to 'coming clean' The low state of mind I was at, the depression that came with it!
It was no easy thing to admit to Bulimia, but the 2nd that I said those words, it was like I had taken off these blinkers I was wearing. I could see! And it was the greatest thing I ever done! Not including marrying my husband or having Amelie!

Now this is where I'm going to get soppy, and don't expect this to be the 1st and last time, as I will probably go on about it from time to time!
Without the support of my friends and family, I could never have got through this illness. I could never have got as far as I have, and I wonder what state I'd be in if it wasn't for all of those people who helped me! I'm not going to name names, as there are far too many, but from the girls on my Babycenter board, whom I still talk to daily and get support from them all of them time, My friends who I depend on to get me through the day sometimes just by sending me texts to cheer me up, entertaining me when I'm feeling the pull of ED and being there for me.
To my lovely family (all of them) who I couldn't wish for a better one to pick me off the floor when I'm down there, to support me on my crazy days, to help out with Amelie when I need you to, and to give me the confidence I need to beat ED out of my head!
Steve will no doubt have a whole chapter dedicated to him, but let's remind ourselves what a bloody brilliant bloke he really is! He's there come rain or shine, he's suffered with some pretty fucked up moods, some awful moments and deals on a daily basis with something that is so unpredictable! He must be a saint!

Today is 11th June 2012, and I've just had the best weekend ever on a spa break with my friends! I did nothing but relax, eat, drink and be merry! It was great! ED wasn't there at all.
I woke up today feeling crap! I didn't want to get up, it was raining cats and dogs, if you pardon the pun, as my job is to walk dogs and feed cats! All I wanted to do was stay in bed! I dragged my arse out of bed, got ready and went to work! I've been in a funny mood all day, and just thought it was post weekend blues.
Lunchtime, and all I want to do is eat comfort food to get me over my bad mood. But comfort food usually ends up with me bingeing and purging! I decided on a bacon and egg baguette as that's partially safe! Safe in comparison to the McDonalds I was craving!
I battled the entire time with ED on whether I was going to be sick or not! It was hard work given my mood! I won! Today I am 18 days behaviour free!

I've just had therapy and it was hard work today, but we made some good headway! I almost cancelled my session due to feeling so pissed off this morning, but knew that it was important that I go! I'm glad that I did!

Going out for a lovely meal with Steve and Amelie. I know that I ate a little too much over the weekend, but life is for enjoying, so I'm going to enjoy my meal out, not feel the ED guilt and carry on with my healthy eating tomorrow!

Weighing things up!

Today is a strange old day. I've had the best weekend with my family. We celebrated the Diamond Jubilee, went into London to watch the boat parade, had a couple of lazy days and it was just so lovely. Me and Steve made a decision not to over eat as we'd been so good last week with eating healthily and not drinking. We decided no take aways, which is usually our weekend treat. And we didn't! But, I do feel like I ate too much. Everything is mainly healthy, with the odd slice of bread too many, a bit too much wine, but we thought that we'd enjoy the weekend!

I get up this morning and was feeling really good. Its been 12 days since I was last sick, although let's face it, ED has been there trying to tempt me, but due to my strong state of mind at the moment, I was able to beat him out of my mind! I think that's another point to me right?! But hang on, why am I feeling so crappy at the moment then? Oh that's right! Because I weighed myself! Damn you scales! I was feeling slim this morning, feeling ready to face this short week, and HE appears. Why do I do it to myself? "Get rid of the scales" I hear a chorus of readers shouting at me.
I've done that before. Got rid of about 10 sets of scales, only to find myself in Boots weighing myself, or Argos buying another set.

Scales are the strangest thing to someone with an eating disorder. They can be your best friend, or your worst enemy. Now most people reading this will think 'that doesn't just apply to someone with an eating disorder' No, you're right, but with ED its not 'just a bit of a bumma' you've put on 2lbs in a week due to over indulging, its not a case of 'oh shit, I'll just have to make up for this week, maybe walk to the station instead of taking the bus'. For me, its like I've just been told I've put 2 stone on overnight! My whole mood can change in the 2 seconds it takes for my new weight to flash up. Do you know what, this morning's weight wasn't even that much more. It was 6 oz. Yes, 6 measly ozs. And after the long weekend of a bit too much, I should be pleased right?
But ED is there offering his take on things! 'Monday to Friday last week, you were so good, a couple of glasses of wine on Friday, a total of about an hour and half on the exercise bike through the week, together with your physical job of walking, and you still manage to put weight on'
Its here that I have to remind myself that if I'd eaten crap all of last week, drank all week, and indulged in those take aways and treats, I'd probably be 3lbs heavier this morning!

As you can see, I sway between total irrational thoughts and being realistic. This proves that ED is still present, but that somewhere in my mind, it means that I know that ED is wrong.

The irrational thoughts sometimes take over though. So this weighing session could spark off a binge, it could start off a week of surviving on redbull, but mostly it sparks off the need to prove those scales wrong. Some of the array of arguments I post to ED when he's unhappy with my weight. 'Well, I did eat quite a bit late last night, so that probably didn't digest in time for me to poo out this morning' 'I drank a cup of tea before weighing myself, that must be at least 2lbs of liquid right there' 'My pyjamas must weigh 3lbs'
ED: 'prove it'
This leads to a series of events. Stripping off my pyjamas and weighing myself again, weighing my pyjamas. Well, the scales must be broke or something, as they weigh practically nothing, Pouring out a fresh cup of tea and weighing that. I must have had 2 cups and forgot. Going to the toilet again, and re-weighing. This isn't always straight away, as I obviously can't make myself poo, so until then, I don't eat or drink, just to make the experiment totally accurate.
Any doctor will tell you to weigh yourself once a week, at the same time, wearing the same sort of clothes. ED tells me to weigh in at least 2 times a day. With all of the above goings on, I've weighed myself 8-10 times in a day. My weight going up and down by 0-3lbs. I ignore the higher weights, and only note down the lower weights. Not exactly accurate right? Not that healthy either!
This doesn't happen everyday, but it happens more often than I like to think of. It happens a lot less when my mind is healthy too!

Its not just weight that can ruin my day. Its clothes. Now I know all girls, women and even men have a 'I have nothing to wear' day every now and then. I have them a lot. But for me, its like 'How on earth did you wear this last week, you are much too fat for this dress' 'Oh my God, you are enormous' 'That colour does nothing for your large arse'
This can go on for ages. By the time I've found something to wear, I'm so pissed off that I don't even want to go out. On a day like this, I usually end up wearing one of my 'safe' outfits. A maxi dress that hides my bulk, a big cardy to cover all of my fat bits, a big jumper to hide under, you get the picture?
Yet tomorrow I get up, and that dress that made me look fat yesterday, is now my favourite dress and I look great! These are my Kate Moss days. Where I feel gorgeous! I won't name which celeb I feel like when I'm having a fat day, just in case they read this and I offend them! Of course celebs will read my blog - ha ha... yeah right!

Anyway, i've decided to put the scales out of reach for now. I'll ask Steve to hide them tonight, so that I can have a few days of respite from the evil morning weigh in. As much as I have really good days at the moment, and ED is not so strong, the scales will always hold a certain amount of power over my mind. 

Why would you choose to be sick?

Why would you choose to be sick? 

Yes, this question has been asked to me several times since I came clean about my condition. No one likes being sick right? Yes, you're right. I hate being sick... when i'm ill. Bulimia sick is different though. It's my choice, well not MY actual choice, it's ED's choice, but ED is part of me, and together, we make a conscience decision to bring the food from my stomach back up.
It's weird, because when i'm sick after eating, I don't even think about it as sick. It's just undigested food that is making me feel horrible in my mind and it has to come up! There is no sicky smell, as it's not been in my stomach long enough to digest, and the action is as easy for me as washing your hands.

Don't get me wrong, everytime I do it, I hate what i'm doing, but more for my mind's sake, rather than the actual physical action. I often give myself a talking to before or after, and berate myself for doing it again. This is another example of me being unkind to myself. I will say nasty things to myself, hate myself for doing it again and force myself to look into the mirrow where all I see is ugliness through the puffy cheeks, red face and snot!

Through my years of abusing my body, I could have brought a lot of dangerous effects on my body, some of which I haven't escaped, but I have been very lucky! I could have brought on anemia, decaying teeth, stomach ulcers, heart attack, Osteoporosis and many more nasty conditions. The side effects that I haven't escaped are more subtle, but still there all the same. I have seious IBS, in which I can go months without having a solid toilet. I have acid reflux, which when I get an attack, can be incredibly painful. When I had a bug last month, I ended up in hospital with these pains of rising acid in my stomach, which were more painful than labour! I think that I may have damaged my esophagus too through years of abusing it.

Panic attacks are a major side effect of my condition. These can be scary and sometimes very lengthy. It usually starts with me crying, but then I start to hyperventilate and if it's a very bad one, I will usually uncontrollably dry heave. Steve has been with me when I have had these attacks, and I can only imagine how horrible it must be to witness someone you love having a panic attack and not being able to do anything about it! Luckily these are few and far between at the moment.

Depression is also a major side effect, but unfortunately this isn't so few and far between. This is something that effects my life everyday. I think that unless you have suffered depression, or watched someone you love suffer with it, it's not something that I can descibe to you without going into detail.
Without the depression, I am a very outgoing, fun loving and happy person. When ED strikes and the depression kicks in, I feel like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders. I feel like I have no-one in the world who loves me, that Steve and Amelie would be better off without me (again, this isn't me saying I want to kill myself), but that they would happier if I just left them. I feel paranoid about everything. If I text someone and they don't text back without minutes, I assume that I must have pissed them off. If I speak to someone and they seem slightly distracted or not overly friendly, I assume that it must be because of something that i've done. I go through weeks of not looking in the mirror, hating my body, my face. I can't bring myself to look at my body when I'm in the shower, and shy away from not wearing clothes in front of my own husband. I am very critical of myself and have a very low self esteem, but i'm working on it!
I panic at what to wear for the simplest occasions. Going to a friend's for dinner and i'm litterally trying on 6 outfits. Yes, just for a night sitting in my best friend's living room!
I constantly feel like everyone is looking at me, and judging me. Wondering why I would wear something like that, as it makes me look enourmous, doesn't do anything for my figure, or i'm too old to be wearing something like that! I get these pananoid thoughts about the closest people in my life. Seeing my sister, going to have my nails done at my best friend's house, sitting in doors on a Sunday with Steve and Amelie. How could anyone feel that paranoid in front of their nearest and dearest? ED is in charge of that. The voice in my head telling me these things - and unfortunately, he's a lot stronger and more convincing than me.

I take fluoxetine (Prozac) to help with these thoughts, and it really helps. I know there are a lot of people who think that there is a stigma attached to taking anti depressants, but hopefully I can explain why you shouldn't! I have an illness, something wrong with my brain. There isn't a pill that I can take to make me feel better unfortunately. It's not something that I can have removed. It's something that will always be part of me, but that I have to get under control. The way I get it under control is by having Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT), which addresses the dysfunctional thoughts and behaviours in my mind which lead to my bulimic actions. Basically, what is making me want to be sick. Whilst I have this therapy, I do a lot of digging into my past, into my present thoughts and it's hard work. Addressing things from my childhood that may be painful to bring back up, thinking about relationships and circumstances that surround my present life, problems that I need to talk about. The anti depressant makes talking about that a little easier. Like if you have a really bad migraine, you take a migraine pill and lay in a dark room. It never takes the pain away completely, but it helps you and takes the edge off right? Imagine trying to get over that migraine without with that little tablet. It would be horrendous right? The anti depressant makes my therapy a little easier. It gives me back my confidence that is in there somewhere, and it helps to keep my mind in a healthier place!

I don't look ill do I? As with people who suffer with Post Natal Depression, Bipolar, Depression, functioning alcoholics, functioning drug addicts, and many more psychological illnesses. It's easy to think that these people are fine. We don't wear a bandage, we don't need crutches, there is nothing physically different about our appearance right? This makes it harder for people to understand these illnesses I think. With Anorexia, the sufferer is obviously ill. This doesn't mean that someone with Bulimia suffers any less than those with Anorexia.

So, by now, I hope that i've given you some things to think about. I hope that you understand a little more about the condition of Bulimia. There are many layers to the illness and I hope to show you the different layers one by one.

Jubilee weekend!

1st June 2013

So it's the Jubilee weekend this weekend, and i'm feeling really patriotic. I am going to buy some flags later today and hang them up outside the house and Amelie is most excited!
But having been really good foodwise/alcohol this week, i'm a little anxious about ruining it all over the weekend. We've decided not to get any take aways, and i'm going food shopping in a bit to get in some lovely food to make sure we don't break and order a chinese. Problem is, it's a 4 day weekend, and i'm wondering how I will be with trying not to overeat! But Steve is also trying to loose some weight, and he's very determined, so he's there to keep me propped up eh?

For some reason, i'm having a 'fat' day today. Even though i've been sticking to my food plan this week, doing lots of exercise etc, I just feel enourmous! Like I need to be craned out of my house! God knows why my brain does this to me! Maybe the thai meal I had last night out with Kristel and Jessica didn't help! But without ED having his say here, I didn't overeat. In fact, I think I was very controlled considering the food was so God damn lovely! I can't wait to get home from work already, just so that I can have a bath, exfoliate and put on my PJs. For some reason, exfoliating and taking off all of my make up/jewellery etc makes me feel all new again! Weirdo I know.

The 1st time (this contains lots of details of my actual habits)
 The 1st time I was sick, I was 16. I hadn't intended on doing it, and when I got the 'urge to purge', it was a very strange feeling. Me and my then boyfriend Rob were in doors one day. I think that I may have bunked off school, and he off work. We had just had a day of watching films and being lazy, and we decided to order a pizza. Papa Johns. They had this deal mid week, Buy One Get One Free! I'm sure you've heard of the deal a million times! So we decide to have a pizza eating contest. A pizza each. An extra large pizza each. Ok, let me paint you a picture here. I was 16, I'm 5ft 3, I probably weighed about 10 stone and was a size 10-12. My boyfriend was 6ft 3, and let's face it, a man. This isn't the 1st time I'd had a pizza eating contest, to which my brother and sister will confirm. But this was the 1st time I'd eaten this much pizza. And I done it! I felt ill. Not just full up, I felt like I was going to explode. For an hour or so I lay there, feeling utterly disgusted at myself, so I take myself upto the bathroom and try to poo. Nothing. I pace the bathroom wondering how I'm going to stop myself feeling like this, and then have a flashback of a film I'd watched with this young gymnast who turned to bulimia when her coach told her she was too overweight (I think she was about 7 stone). I get down on my knees and open the toilet, my mind is racing 'what the hell are you doing?' Let me now introduce you to ED. 'Go on Girl, just stick your fingers down your throat, its easy. Then you'll feel better'
I didn't know this was ED at the time, it took me a few years to get completely acquainted with him.
I lean over, stick my fingers down my throat and heave. A big loud heave! My face shoots with bright red embarrassment. What if Rob could hear me from downstairs. I listen for footsteps...nothing, just the mumble of a film downstairs. I try again. This time, I feel the stirrings of something rising, but its stuck. I lean my head over the bathroom tap and drink greedily from it. 3rd go lucky, I heave and up comes some pizza. I keep going until my body is exhausted, my face bright red and my stomach...empty.
Rob obviously curious as to why I was gone so long asks if I'm ok. I lie and tell him I think I've got a bug as I was just really sick - already making the excuse just in case he'd heard me. He hadn't!

I felt great! I felt exactly how that bulimic gymnast had described how she'd felt. I got to eat what I want, and not have the guilt! And I was probably going to loose some weight! I did, a lot. I started making a habit out of it. Overeating on purpose and then sneaking off to the toilet to empty myself. Everytime I did it, it got easier, and the easier it got, the more I wanted to do it.
Within a couple of years, I was secretly bingeing. Buying high fat foods on my way home from school and having a party of my own. I knew it wasn't right, but I had this secret thing, that no-one knew about, and I was really good at it! Ok, let me point out here, that this is EDs words! I didn't know how utterly hypnotised I was by him already. I thought that I could stop whenever I wanted to. And I didn't want to just yet! I wanted to loose more weight, then I'd stop! I promised myself! ED had other ideas!

My relationship with Rob was my 1st, and I loved him, he was my 1st love and I had a fabulous time with him, but it was also quite bad for me at the same time. I was with him all of the time, him and his friends, who all became my friends, but they were all big blokes. And 3-5 years older than me. I tried to keep up with the lifestyle of a 6ft 5, 20 year old man. All day drinking sessions, late night curries, hangover cure fry ups. I was 18, and I was drinking everyday... a lot. Wine, alcopops, shots, beer, whatever was going! The lads called me Lenny, coz I could keep up with them. I could drink and eat like a man. I could beat some in eating competitions. Little did they know I was being sick throughout the day to try to get some of the alcohol and most of the food out of my system! And it meant I could stay out all day! I've never done drugs....this was my drug. My secret drug.

I didn't realise how out of control my life had become until I ended up in hospital having taken an overdose. I didn't want to kill myself. I wanted Rob to start taking notice of me as his girlfriend, and not as one of the lads. I wanted my family to worry about me, because as far as I was concerned, they were all off living their own lives and couldn't give me a shit about me. In fact, they did give me a shit about me, but all had their own problems and lives going on
. As soon as I took the pills (about 18 I think), I regretted it. A friend of Rob's took me to the hospital and I was left to get over the world's worst hangover! And the complete and utter shame I had brought on myself. I wasn't happy in my life, but I certainly didn't want to be dead!

A few months later my relationship came to an end with Rob, and I met this lovely bloke whilst at work. He was the courier guy and I see him everyday at work. He was lovely and soon enough I asked him out. This lovely man, is the man who I'm married to now, my gorgeous and wonderful Steve!

ED didn't like Steve! Really didn't like him, coz I stopped listening to his words, I stopped being sick, and gradually, I started thinking like a normal person. ED felt like a distant memory for about a year! I'd have the odd fling with him if I was too full up, but ED didn't dominate my brain anymore. Until..... I went shopping as I needed new clothes. I knew that I'd put on a bit of weight, but I was still convinced I could squeeze into a size 12. I couldn't! I couldn't squeeze into a size 14. I tried a size 16, and bang...they fitted, but BANG, ED was in the changing room with me, and THOSE size 16 trousers. He laughed at me, mocked me and told me that because I'd left him behind, this was my punishment!
I cut the label out of them trousers as soon as I got home. I was disgusted at myself! I'd let myself go!

A wave of strength came over me after that, and I vowed that ED wouldn't be coming back as easy as that. So I joined Weight Watchers with my friend Cat from work. I followed the plan, and I lost all of the weight I wanted to! Keeping it off though..., ah, that's when I let ED sneak back in. I was getting married afterall, so thought that a few months with a little help wouldn't be so bad....wrong. I thought that it was my decision to let him back in, it wasn't! He was back with avengence. I wasn't just purging what I'd eaten, I was deliberately bingeing, everyday, lot! I was using laxatives again, I was spending money I didn't really have, on food! I knew that I had lost control, but was too scared to do anything about it!

"How do I stop????" ED: "YOU CAN'T!"

I will stop. And I did, for a week or 2, then he was back.

From what I've learned, an eating disorder doesn't just disappear, you have to work hard to get rid of it! And everything that I'd read about recovery said that I'd have to tell my doctor, my husband, my family! NO WAY, they would kill me, they would be disgusted with me for lying for so long. Looking back, I couldn't have been more wrong! But I'll go more into detail about my recovery later!

This is my journey through Bulimia - i'm sure that everyone is different and has their own demons. For me, ED was always there, and still is. Even when I thought he wasn't - he was! He controlled every thought I had about food, exercise, calorie content and anything that involved putting on or loosing weight.
In some of what i've written above, it seems like I enjoyed having ED in my life. I got to loose weight right? WRONG! I hated every second of it, and if at any moment I could go back and drag myself out of that abusive relationship - I would. Oh, and the myth that I would loose weight by throwing up food - that's exactly what it was! A myth. Calories are consumed on the way in - something I found out during my first stint of therapy! And I was usually consuming 2 times the amount that I should, hence my weight gain! 

Just to remind myself here, as I end this chapter - ED can be beaten - I have beaten him once, and I will beat him again.
When I first 'came clean' about my condition in 2008, I counted every single hour that i'd gone without being sick, and it helped me through my recovery. I counted every single day, and before I knew it, it turned to months, then years.
This time round, it's been a lot harder to 'go cold turkey', but at the moment, i'm 7 days behaviour free. Behaviour is the act of an eating disorder (bingeing, purging, restricting etc). I've done 7 days without being sick, and i'm very proud of myself.
I'm now off to have a lovely romantic night with my husband and start the Julibee weekend!