Over time, my mindset on being sick has evolved. For the first year of my eating disorder, I sought extreme thinness through strange eating rituals and extreme exercise. When I went to college, I lost more weight, to a dangerous and perceptible degree. I denied any problem.
As I numbed myself through the first and second semester, people commented. Are you anorexic? Why are you so skinny? I glowed.
Thn I drank. And gained about 30 pounds by the start of my second year. My family noticed and didn't shy from telling me. I hated myself and my body and I definitely didn't have an eating disorder or substance abuse issues.
Something clicked. I had to shrink again. I tried purging. Then eating less. Then running. I was back to almost underweight by the end of my 4th year of college, purging multiple times a day after consuming huge or normal portions of anything I could get my hands on and running 8-10 miles. But I am not disordered because I am not 70 pounds.
Except that bulimia is an eating disorder too. Despite the shame and embarrassment, it is dangerous and disruptive, even deadly. It took me 9 years to accept anything was medically or emotionally wrong with me. That I needed help before dropping below 100 pounds. That's what it finally took to take my disorder seriously. Bradycardia and a heart murmur.
Now that I am halfway weight restored though, it's so easy to consider myself fixed. But I still meet and exceed the criteria for bulimia, purging every day and binging more than I can admit. So how long do I continue my long standing habit of denial? I'm not anorexic so I'm not sick enough to get help.
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