Empty|| A Series of Poems And Short Stories

Sick

She lay on her bed, The guilty feeling of the food in her stomach making her shudder. Her anxiety had taken hold of her, her only solace found in eating. The pills didn't work, therapy had just made her feel worse. All it did was give her a list of what was wrong with her. The therapist said she would get better if she took the pills, but they didn't help. She still had the urges. To eat until she couldn't anymore. Until it was enough to satisfy the voice in her head. 

She sat up and walked slowly to the mirror hung on her door. She lifted her shirt to see what she had feared most. Every pound, every roll. made her sick. The sight of the love handles sat on her hips, the line across her stomach, the rolls on her sides and the flab on her arms. Her stomach turned at the sight. She rushed to the bathroom, hovering over the toilet. A finger lunged down her throat, a jolt of her body following after. Again, finger, gag, finger, gag. Finally the contents of her stomach emptied into the toilet. Again, finger, gag, release. It was not a pretty sight. The Doritos and captain crunch mixing in the toilet bowl, a brown-white murkiness crowding the water from the soda she had drank.

She sat back on her feet, tears lining her eyes, her throat stung and her stomach was empty. She silently scolded herself for eating all that food and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Her mother came knocking on the door, hearing the all too familiar retching from her daughter. "Rylie. Are you okay?" She asked, knowing what the answer would be. She had heard it too many times. "Yeah, mom. I'm just sick." The same excuse Rylie used every time. "I just need to rest and I'll be fine tomorrow." She choked out, the bile from her stomach leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

Her mother left, saddened that she could never help her own daughter. She had tried, but Rylie just yelled and cried. Never accepting that she had a problem. Rylie left to her room, climbing under her sheets, and embracing the warmth. "Tomorrow," She said to her self. "I'll stop." She had told herself that every night for 2 months. Never holding true to her own statements. How long could this go on for?

~M Siemer.

I can proudly say that I have overcome my bulimia. I've been clean for a whole year and I am so proud of myself for overcoming this hurdle in my life. I'm finally at a healthy weight and I feel confident. There are some days where I do have a hard time and that's okay. What matters is I'm no longer purging my food. I still struggle to swallow food often and I get urges to purge, but I think about where I am now, and the people around me who love me. And I think of how it would affect them and how I would feel if they did what I had done all that time ago. There is hope, you can get better. It will be okay.