Standing in the middle of my dorm room over thirty years ago as dark winter rolled in, two months into the academic year, I suddenly thought “I can’t take this anymore”.
After two years of “abstinence” from compulsive eating, which for me was a brutally perfect and rigid diet, and running five miles per day including cross country races…I decided to eat whatever the hell I wanted.
The thing is, it wasn’t really what I wanted. I was about to binge like there was no tomorrow….just this once.
Like a thief filled with excruciating guilt, but nowhere else to go, I went on foot wearing a big back pack, into one store, then a fast-food restaurant, then another store, then a 7-11, then a gas station, with a fake calm on the outside, making sure I only bought a small amount of food so that it looked “normal”.
As soon as I purchased the food at each stop, I stuffed it into my back pack and kept walking.
I felt like I was holding my breath. I was about to blow two years of will power, control, and cold-hearted take-no-prisoners discipline. Just once. Then I would get back on track.
I couldn’t let myself even think 24 hours in advance. All that mattered was right now.
I was buying food that I had not allowed myself to taste, smell, or touch for two years. I had held a low, almost anorexic level weight for two years. No menstrual cycle, bony shoulders…and compliments for my slender form.
In that moment, right then, was rage. Blind rage. Breaking out of this prison.
That was my mind flipping to the extreme opposite of control, never even stopping for a moment’s rest at a mid-way balance point.
I was far, far from the center, from source. I went from one side of the universe (gripping control) to the other side (massive out-of-control).
I didn’t even know what balance was at that time. Or self-love. Or trust.
At least I didn’t THINK I knew. But of course I did. It was lying down in there, quietly waiting.
My mind contained the following beliefs so long ago, which I had arrived at through observing what I thought and did and seeing the “proof” that what I deserved was control, not love:
- I want too much
- I am greedy, selfish and self-centered
- There is never enough for me
- I am too emotional
- My feelings are too extreme for other people (especially my parents)
- There is something terribly wrong with my wants, desires, appetite
When I returned to my dorm room, frantic, with my anxiety shooting through the roof, I locked the door and bolted it and turned the lights low and unpacked all the food items like I just stole diamonds from the fanciest jewelry store in the world.
Too much, too good to be true, too off-the-charts expensive, too out of my league…and I started stuffing the food into my mouth, especially the sugary sweet stuff (not a drop of sugar or chemical additive had crossed my lips in TWO YEARS).
I ate until my stomach felt like it was going to be split open. Then I knew I needed to do that thing I had forced myself to learn only three years earlier, for the first time…I would make myself vomit.
I vomited into a black plastic garbage bag. I wouldn’t dream of entering a public bathroom with the intention to throw up, where other girls who lived in this dorm might come in and hear me.
After the episode was all over, throwing up into the bag, I carefully wiped my face and hands, went down to the bathroom and scrubbed my face with soap and water, my whole body shaking.
I brushed my teeth and brushed them again, and headed back to the scene of the crime, looking down at anyone in the hall who passed me by.
In my room I put three more black heavy-duty garbage bags around the evidence, the bag containing all the vomited food. It was warm from my own stomach and body heat.
Then for some odd reason, to find some relief perhaps in this horrifying scene, I pulled out my bathroom scale (I never went anywhere without it back then) and weighed myself….holding the bag of regurgitated food….and then I set the bag aside and weighed myself without it.
The difference in weight was ten pounds.
I had eaten and vomited ten pounds of food in weight. My actual body weight was the same as it had been yesterday. Part of me felt more guilty than ever, like I got away with something unbearable. A very close shave.
“Acting” calm again, I very quietly unlocked my door and snuck down the back stairs, outside and two blocks away to a dumpster to throw away the disgusting bag, so no one would trace back this sickening event to me.
The level of self-hate and fury and confusion was so intense, I asked myself for the next few days, weeks and months if I could really go on. I knew that it was not worth living a life believing the kinds of things I did about myself.
About a week later, I dropped everything, left college and flew home to my parents and the house I grew up in, and entered therapy.
It would be another ten years before I was completely over the extreme violence I had towards my own desires, my appetite, and my feelings (like sadness, fear, or anger).
But dropping my control, going out-of-control, was the first step towards healing and balance.
It was the best thing that could have happened.
Now, I continue to watch my internal life and the thoughts I repeat or believe…and I notice, I rarely use food or starvation or over-exercise to try to control my feelings, my desire and my appetite.
This happened by looking at what I believed back then, and questioning those beliefs (even though I did not yet have The Work).
Now I can look back at that young woman who was apparently me, so many years ago, and I am filled with appreciation for her story. Even when I still would rather not reveal that story, I know it’s safe, and loving.
If it helps someone else to hear my story, and how far to the extreme it went, then good. Even someone in that kind of pain, with that kind of violence, could find peace, love and understanding out of that suffering.
Today I continue to examine my beliefs about my desires, my appetite, my wants, my feelings.
When I think “Oh Grace, you really should tone it down…you need to get back to “normal” (whatever that is)…you need to calm yourself…you should control your feelings”….
….then I give myself a hug and say thank you to my powerful feelings.
I write down what I’m thinking, I let it rip ON PAPER…and I question those beliefs.
And somehow, I haven’t felt the need to overeat, cram in the food, weigh myself or “slap” myself into shape for many, many years.
It’s easier this way, being truly out of control.
“If you don’t realize the source, you stumble in confusion and sorrow. When you realize where you come from, you naturally become tolerant, disinterested, amused, kindhearted as a grandmother, dignified as a king. Immersed in the wonder of the Tao, you can deal with whatever life brings you, and when death comes, you are ready.”~Tao Te Ching #16
Thank you violence, confusion, emptiness, sorrow. You help me see something is off, to remember the source.
Thank you rage, sadness, grief, desperation, craving, desire and the stomach-punch I gave myself. These reminded me always that where I come from is love.
So do you.
Much love, Grace
