As the drugs slowly took over my body I started feeling more and more dependent on them. At this point I knew it was becoming a problem that was much bigger than me. I had become extremely paranoid about everything. I didn't like who I was turning in to. It was ruining my marriage and I hated who my husband was becoming as well. I realized it was time to let it go and find a new solution to my "dieting." I didn't want to, but I knew I had to. My children didn't deserve to go through what I went through as a child. Luckily, I was able to stop myself before it got too far; Or so I thought, anyway.
Without meth I felt like I had forgotten who I was on a normal day. The first time I heard my stomach begin to growl and I actually felt hungry- I wanted to cry. I had lost so much weight. I couldn't go backwards now. I finally felt like I was getting skinny again. Skinnier than before. Every time I would hear my stomach start to cry for food, what I really heard was that cold voice in my head. The voice that had made itself a stable home in the back of my mind for most of my life. The voice that I thought I had gotten rid of for good- years ago. She was back. Warning me not to eat. Reminding me of how disgusting I will feel afterwards. How disgusting I will soon become. How much I will only hate myself more. Teasing me. Laughing so damn loud in my head. I couldn't shut her up! For 1 whole week, (a week that felt more like a month) I tried so hard to ignore it. I ate only small portions. Mostly just vegetables once a day. But that wasn't cutting it. I stepped on my scale for the first time since I had gotten sober. It had only been 7 days. There's no way I could have gained anything in just a week. I'm sure I'm fine. I reassured myself before glancing down at the number that would change it all. 125 lbs. Tears rolled down my cheeks as that reality sank in. How could I have gained so much weight?! 10 lbs. in 1 week! 10!!! I've barely even taken in any calories! Devastated and terrified- I sat on the bathroom floor, asking myself all of the questions that I knew I couldn't answer. But she could.
"You should have listened to me. Do you know how many calories were in those crackers you ate this morning? Do you?! You're so fat! You're only going to keep getting fatter. Who will love you when you gain all of that weight back?" She was laughing at me now. Punishing me for not obeying the silent promise that I didn't even realize I had once again made in my own mind. I couldn't take it anymore. I needed to make her go away! So, I gave in to her. I crawled over to the toilet and I cried harder as I desperately held back my hair. I stuck my finger as far back in to my throat as it would go until I began to gag heavily. I did this repeatedly until I felt empty enough inside to make her satisfied. I gave her what she wanted and it worked. I started to remember how much I loved that feeling of being in control of my body weight. It was like an intense rush of pleasure. Completely satisfying. Yet, somehow, I hated myself for doing it. As much as I hated it, I knew that each time I stuck my finger down my throat- it wouldn't be the last time. That realization was terrifying but not enough to stop me now.
The house was silent. I heard nothing but the sound of my own pathetic desperation, as I wiped the vomit from my hands. I stood up slowly but still felt dizzy, as I made my way to the sink to brush my teeth and wash my hands. Trying so hard not to look up at the reflection that would be staring back at me in the mirror. I wasn't ready to face myself just yet. As much as I wanted to look away- I couldn't. I stared at my mascara streaked cheek bones with neither shame, nor pride. I could see the blood vessels in my eyes, taunting me. They were bright red and gross. My eyes appeared so hollow behind my pupils. So glassy and sad. I remembered that look. I remembered that feeling. I was disgusted with myself. I hated how I felt but not more than I loved the satisfaction that crept up inside of me afterwards. I tried to remember how awful it felt to lose control, while convincing myself that I was actually gaining control. In the back of my mind I had never felt more in control of anything and that was something that I craved so deeply. Being able to control the way I desperately needed to be thin, I couldn't possibly have felt more powerful. I needed it, badly.
She needed me. I needed her.
That was the scariest part about it all.
YOU ARE READING
Starving For Help
Non-Fiction"I smile everyday. I live my life like nothing is wrong with me. No one would ever guess that I'm screaming inside or that I've secretly been hiding this huge part of my life. No one would ever know that I cry myself to sleep at night or that deep d...
