Reflective Essay: How Bulimia Changed My Life

At the age of 10 when my eating disorder started, I didn’t know what to call it. This was not a choice I made, yet my challenge was to defeat bulimia and try not to die. I knew the minute I stuck my fingers down my throat, I was doing something unnatural. Logically thinking as long as no one knew, it would be O.K, but because I told myself I would never do it again. I was wrong, I found myself bending over the toilet more than 5 times a day.
Bulimia was my drug, my addiction. Causing an endless vicious cycle. Bulimia is, in its very nature, a secretive mental illness that can go unnoticed by friends and family. I didn’t think anyone knew about my eating disorder because I hid it that well, I was so ashamed of myself. It’s a horrible paralyzing disease, and such a dark time for me. Robbing you from living your life. I felt remarkably alone, still I made myself alone. I found comfort in throwing up. I would binge eat,

I sweated off what little I ate and more, which is known as exercise bulimia. This was difficult to face when I realized I was bulimic. I told myself I wasn’t, and that everything will be alright, but it wasn’t. I was weak, pail, and seemed gloomy most of the times. I would have black outs at some points at home while I was alone. I missed my period for months, almost reaching a year without my menstrual cycle. I was terrified of what was going to happen next, until I decided it was best if I let someone know. The only person I told was my best friend Anna. The hardest part while telling her was looking at her cry. I never knew someone cared for me as much as it showed in her. Speaking about bulimia for the first time was a challenge I experienced because I didn’t know what to say to Anna. My confessions to her about having this eating disorder and how much work it is to hide, and how scared I was about it. I hated myself for developing bulimia in the first place, however I am truly