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!