Bravery — When the first person you tell about your eating disorder was a mistake
A few weeks ago I shared a post from The Mighty, 10 Myths People With Eating Disorders Want to See Busted while publicly owning my eating disorder. This statement in particular really resonated: Myth #4: Once you start eating again, you’re magically cured.
It is every damn day. Granted, my thoughts now are nothing like what I was dealing with when I started recovery. Whatever was happening that particular day (that I cannot remember) touched something raw and I felt the need to share.
I was surprised by the response. Friends said that I was brave and courageous for sharing, inspirational, amazing, encouraging me to say more. I had people reach out to me directly with their own story. Some dinner and happy hour conversations about my experience and why I was so surprised. So much love I didn’t quite know what to do with it. I started to think that maybe I needed (wanted) to share more about my experience. The I’m Not Alone conversation about any struggles in life is powerful. Didn’t this all start for me from someone else calling out myths and beliefs about eating disorders that I could relate to?
Brave. Of all the words that stuck with me the most. ME?!
I’m going to continue sharing my story and myth busting. Starting with my first act of bravery around healing my eating disorder. The story of the very first person I told that I was bulimic and that I wanted to stop. Rob.
I was in college and had met Rob at a club. I love going dancing and used to go out multiple times a week. Rob had a nice smile, good dancer and he was hot. He asked me out at the end of the night and we exchanged numbers. We went out on two or three dates. He was out-going, funny and had twinkly eyes. He was also in love with himself. Way in love. We stopped dating pretty quickly, although we continued to hang out, go dancing, be friends. I pretty much let him control and drive the “friendship”. (Including giving him a Housemartins import album a UK friend sent to me. I still wish I got that back.)
I was going to visit a friend in Boston for the weekend. Rob offered to come with me, sounded fun and something different to do, plus I wouldn’t have to drive alone. On our drive up, somewhere in Connecticut I went for it. My heart was racing, I started to sweat a little, I told Rob I was bulimic. I told Rob I threw up a few times a day. I told Rob I severely restricted calories when I did decide to keep food down. I told Rob I was thinking that maybe possibly but wasn’t terribly sure I wanted to stop and get help. Maybe. Because saying it was scary and I wasn’t really sure what I meant. I did not feel relief in sharing this, I felt sick to my stomach.
Then it got worse.
He told me that it was easy to Just Stop. He told me to put a rubber band around my wrist and snap it whenever I thought about or wanted to throw up. He told me eating was important and wasting food was ridiculous. Why would I even do that?
….. What?
There is an image burned in my memory of putting a rubber band around my wrist. It would be bloody and raw and you could see bone from snapping it so much. He had no fucking clue.
The rest of the weekend was part fun and mostly nightmare. It was great to see my friend, she and I had fun exploring the city and catching up (without Rob). Underlying it all I was beating myself up for saying anything. I was stupid. Of course food is important. Of course I could get better, I just needed discipline. If no one believed me or they thought it was easy, how was I ever going to stop?
It took months for me to say anything to another person.
There is that saying that hindsight is 20/20. I understand it, but I don’t “get” it. My interpretation has always been if hindsight is 20/20, then I should have known better. I never should have made the mistake. Never even started throwing up in the first place.
I eventually decided that in order to stop the bulimia, I had to leave New Jersey. That leaving the state and everyone I knew would allow me the space to take the next step and get better. Hopefully get better.
It worked. Hindsight. Hm, maybe I do “get” it after all.
