I've been really struggling with the idea of giving up the purge. When I think about giving up the binge, I am overwhelmed and prepared for failure, but I can at least wrap my head around letting it go. When I think about giving up the purge, I am instantly filled with anxious thoughts and a dark, stubborn voice that won't really even consider it to be an option. I haven't realized the difference between my attachment to the binge and the purge until very recently. I think of them as a package deal, because they always have been. Here is the key difference: I can give up the binge, but the purge won't give me up. The purge is the controlling one in this relationship. If I take away the purge, I take away the only effective counterpart to the binge.
Characteristics of the Binge: fun, happy, persistent, addictive, gluttonous, excessive, enjoyable.
Characteristics of the Purge: possessive, dark, shameful, controlling, disgusting, hurtful, inescapable, manipulative.
If I had a boyfriend with the characteristics of Binge, it would be hard to break up with him. I would realize that he is heading in a direction I don't want to go, and I would probably get tired of being roped into his constant excesses. But I could break it off because he is a jolly fellow, and he would let me go, and give me power to do so.
On the other hand, if my boyfriend had the characteristics of Purge, it would be much harder to get out of the relationship. It's a classic abusive relationship, and the worst part is, I let myself be convinced every time that I need him (it). And every time I get away, out of his clutches, he follows me around, taunting me, promising I need him, and that I can have more fun with him around, even if I'll have to pay for it.
I follow a blog that tracks smokers who are trying to quit. This morning as I was browsing through the latest posts, I read something that really caught my interest. One of the writers/quitters said that when he's having a hard time with cravings, he think about a heroin addict trying to recover, and how much harder it would be to make it through that. At first I just kind of laughed, but then I thought, that is an excellent point. I don't have to suffer through physical withdrawal symptoms, my heart is not at risk of stopping, I won't have petrifying hallucinations. I just have to stop. I have to battle with the constant thoughts and temptations, but what is that compared to trying to fight through a serious drug addiction?
Which brings me to this: food is my drug. I one hundred percent believe that food is an addiction that many people experience. And the worst of it is, we can't avoid it. You can get through life without having to drink alcohol, without having to use drugs. But in order to survive, I have to have a bit of my addiction every single day. I often wish that there was a pill I could take to just fill my nutrition requirements and be done with it, so I would never have to eat anything. I know it's not reasonable, but the idea of having to control myself every day for the rest of my life around the very thing that I am perpetually addicted to is mind-boggling. And then I think, everyone else can do it. But just as not everyone who drinks becomes an alcoholic, not everyone who eats becomes a foodaholic. But just as the alcoholic needs to finish the bottle, or the drug addict needs to snort the rest of the stash, I need to finish the entire bag of chips. There's no folding it over after a few hand fulls and putting in the cupboard for later. That is a ridiculous expectation, and I don't know how people do it.
And just like an addict, I hide my stash. I sneak food into the house. I carry a large purse and cram it full of chocolate and family size bags of chips. I make batches of cookie dough at lightening speed while people are in the bathroom. I keep garbage bags full of empty wrappers under my desk. I have a 5-pack of cream eggs under my pillow, and a tub of sour cherry gummies tucked against me under the Snuggie, just in case anyone knocks on the door. I don't need them to hear me shuffling around, hiding my shame. Why do junk food containers/bags/wrappers have to be so exposingly noisy?
Through all of this, I keep wondering why I can't just stop. Why me. (Oh woe is me, alas, egad, boo hoo, blah blah blah.) I think eating disorders are shrouded in misperceptions, judgement, and a lack of sympathy/empathy/understanding. In his book, On Writing, Stephen King talks about his alcoholism and the many people who tried to offer advice about it. He hits the nail on the head when he says (one of my favorite all-time comparisons) ". . . telling an alcoholic to control his drinking is like telling a guy suffering the world's most cataclysmic case of diarrhea to control his shitting." I can identify with this statement a thousand times over. And yet I wonder why I am so hard on myself when I fail. If someone else tells me to just stop bingeing and purging, I find it ludicrous, like how dare they assume to understand and tell me what to do in such simple terms. Yet when I tell myself to just stop, I feel like I should be able to do it, and hold myself in complete failure when I can't.
Now that I've begun to think of the binge and the purge in different categories, I think it will help to make compartmentalized game plans for attack and recovery. Every day I realize more and more that I need to break free from my evil boyfriend Purge. I dare say I'm finally starting to see a light at the end of this tunnel, and the kind of light that will continue to burn. I've had short-term recovery periods, and I'm done with them. I'm looking for the real thing, and I truly believe that through understanding I will find it. Get ready Purge, I'm coming to kick your ass.
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