I think it is time for me to say arriverderci to my bulimia. I need to put it back where it belongs, somewhere safe in my mind where I don’t think about it anymore.
I could continue to write about it and think about for anyone who reads this and needed this to continue, but my heart is not in it anymore. I do not want to talk about it anymore. I don’t want to dredge up a past that finally feels buried and put to rest.
In the beginning, when I first started writing about it, I thought —selfishly and maybe a little arrogantly — that none of this would be hard to revisit. I thought I was above my history. I thought that writing about it and thinking about it would not be like entering into the darkness again — that it would be like watching it from a safe warm place, like the people who watched the Civil War safely from a hill that overlooked the bloodshed. I was ill-advised and naive to believe that the battle would not get close to me again.
I am not in a bad place, but there is nothing left to say. I have long forgiven my parents, my family and some of the most well-intentioned people to touch my life. I am tired of myself. I know we are told the world does not revolve around us, but the truth is that our individual lives do revolve around us and that our basic human instinct is to put ourselves first, to constantly weigh how each decision will affect us, to have regrets and remorse, to hold onto the past too long.
Frankly, it’s been exhausting.
I feel like someone split in two, and I don’t recognize the other person who lived these last five years, even though we share a common struggle to look at food in safe way. That person is not me. I can see myself changing back now, to whatever I was before this exploded and ate away everything sane and balanced. I did not recognize myself when I looked in the mirror. I was ugly, mired in hundreds of extra pounds, misery and that sweet self-pity that keeps us all locked away in prisons of our own making.
I wish I knew the secret, exactly why this is over now. I like to think I just outgrew it, I forced myself to be stronger, be smarter, show myself a little more mercy and grace and a lot less hate. But I am not stupid enough to pretend I really know.
I think as I find myself the answer will present itself and it will be a life raft for me when the waters get too high or when I find myself in all-too-familiar ground.
At least that is my hope.
I haven’t had an episode in a very long time. I can’t speak for other addictions, but for mine, it has always been hard getting through the day one meal at a time, putting emphasis on the right food without focusing on the food itself. And now, fuck it, I just want to have the damn food. I want to eat the fricking pizza.
I have also been losing quite a bit of weight. I have — wait for it — wait for it — a waist!
I am just starting to recognize that girl in the mirror again and all the sudden I don’t feel so old, hopeless or alone.
I want to thank you for this amazing opportunity to share myself and for all the positive comments and support. I have enjoyed being able to write again, more than you know. I will miss having the chance to do this, but I am just not afraid anymore, and to continue would almost be a lie.
I am just not her anymore.
Last year I wrote a list of goals. I have not accomplished many of them, but I think this year I will.
For her.
So I leave you with this, a quote from my little friend at Curves:
“I think it is time to put the big girl panties on!”
Thank you.
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.
