Freedom Beyond These Lips

Chapter 22: Do I Have a Problem?

I officially moved into a new house, fresh start, new room, fresh memories. I could feel myself being able to breathe properly, that is until the dead roaches started to pop up everywhere. My major fear of insects lead me to stay with Alex for a couple more days. I tried to tough out the morning, and ate a salad. I tried to be healthy, and feeling unsatisfied about my body - I tried to keep the calories to a minimum. I got up, brushed my teeth, and had the sudden urge to barf. I stared at myself in the mirror, and allowed it to happen. I could've stopped myself, but something told me it was okay. It didn't burn like normal. I didn't feel "bad" after.

I tried to brush it off, and spend the day at Alex's trying to recuperate all of my emotions. Which meant, drowning them in a bottle of Bailey's. I found myself drinking every other night simply because it was there. I wasn't sure my reasoning, if it was because it tasted good, or if it was the feeling it gave me, but I knew that what I was doing was wrong. I wasn't going to go down the same path that my mother did, and I needed the will power to stop myself. I just wasn't sure how I was going to do it. School kept me occupied for the most part, and being out of my mother's house was a big plus. There was always something about it that felt like someone was suffocating me, keeping me quiet, but killing me. For as much as I hated reliving the past, it was what initially got me through it all. I know I didn't initially go out looking for therapy, but it's the strongest thing a person with a mental disorder can do. If one therapist doesn't work, try another. Explaining your story to another person can be tough. They might not be able to relate, they might be confused in some parts, but it's a learning process all on it's own.

I often reflected back to the throwing up, wondering if bulimia was going to become a problem, but it was one time - and I told myself i'd be stupid to think that. You are never stupid for fearing that you could do something damaging to yourself. I couldn't put myself in those shoes, for i'd already dealt with a demon who made me skip meals every day. I also had to push myself to not drink. Regardless of how it makes me feel, I had to remember that my mother drank to absolve her problems, and although, I'd never physically hurt anyone - it was the wrong way to keep myself going. Recognizing that you have a problem is half the battle.

I can't wait to start feeling like i've done something with my life, so that I can get past this, and people can officially start saying, "Wow! I'm so proud of you." Or "Man, you worked so hard." For the first time in my life. I am constantly beating myself up, and i'm trying to fix that, but I have just about a good of guess as how to go about doing that as the dying roaches on my kitchen floor trying to get back over.

For now, i'm taking a breather. I'm eating fatty foods, not wondering about how many calories i'm consuming, i'm drinking water, instead of alcohol, and i'm playing video games telling myself it's okay to take a break. Things are fairly okay, and I plan on just keeping a positive mindset, and trucking past the "problems".