(Note: This is Part II of Caitlin Elizabeth Moore’s series, Beyond Bulimia. Click here to read Part I.)

I am afraid. This is what my choices have made me, this is the place my disorder has led me: a 10-by-10  box I dare not step out of. To leading a life that is too safe.

I used to have these big dreams: I was going to take on the world. I was going to be someone I was proud of. I was going to be someone who made an impact, not someone who hides in the shadows and prays no one gets too close.

I feel crazy, like in reading this, now you can see right through me. Now you know that I am not normal, that I am not one of you. You can sense that I used to pace back and forth in front of the bathroom trying to decide how to deal with my life, trying to decide how to keep perfect control. Which foods can stay down based on what I know about carbs, sugars and fat. Which foods will alternately fill and shatter the void all at once.

I wonder if you wanted to know what it feels like, what it makes you feel like. It is different than throwing up when you are sick or hung over. I used to feel almost euphoric when it was over; light-headed and giddy. I am not sure why but I crave sugar afterwards, but it helps calm me, helps me slow my heart rate, lessen the tension in my hand, the spots I see around the room.

You won’t always remember sticking your finger down your throat, or worse if you experienced willing yourself to throw up until you literally are empty. You feel raw in your stomach and your throat, and there is this burn under your breast bones; constant and dull.  Your mouth aches, your teeth are sensitive for days and you can taste blood from your throat.

If you forgot to drink something while you binged then your food will come up all at once - in giant hunks - and you can feel it expanding your throat and burning your esophagus as your stomach acid forces it out. The sad part is all this makes you feel better; it leaves you validated in your emotions. It tells you lies, it whispers in your ear: You are in control, you are in control, if nowhere else but here.

The toilet water has a sheen of oil on it. Even after you flush, if you look really close, then you can see it: the only evidence that is left after you wipe down the toilet, clean off the walls, open the windows, spray the deodirizer and gurgle mouthwash. 

What I cannot reconcile in my mind is why, even though it is by all accounts a disgusting experience, why you come to enjoy it and even look forward to it. 

I am afraid because there are still days when something happens and I want to have an episode, to lose myself in false promises. I am afraid because the way I avoid this is to take risk out of my life. I plan ahead. I know what I am going to eat long before I do. I don’t have anything in the house that could send me the wrong way. I don’t generally have alcohol in the house, because I fear replacing one addiction for another.

I feel alone constantly, even when I am surrounded by a sea of people or engaged by someone I love. I don’t want to let anyone too close. I don’t want to be the one who falls too hard and loses too much. So I filter the people in my life. I decide quickly if I love them or hate them, and generally there is no middle ground. There is no safety in the uncertainty of your feelings. I don’t trust often trust them anyway.

I feel like every decision I have made these last years has led me here, and lately I wonder as I get stronger and healthier, if getting better will always look as though my life is so decided, so dictated, so controlled.

I don’t want to be defined by my eating disorder, but I still let it make me feel like an awkward puzzle piece that doesn’t belong here. That doesn’t belong anywhere, that remains undefined by anything.

Thank God I am only 23.

If you or someone you know has an eating disorder, you can find information online at the National Eating Disorder Association website, nationaleatingdisorders.org, or you can call toll free at 206-382-3587. Office hours are 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. – Pacific time. Or, you can always find Caitlin at Curves, 530-275-6426 or catch her at caitatcurves.blogspot.com.

Caitlin Elizabeth Moore still wants to play third base for the Giants. Until then she is existing happily in canine captivity, working at Curves, selling art and learning to be a grownup.