Around the age of 14, I turned on the shower in my bathroom, stuck a finger down my throat, and made myself throw up the gigantic meal I had just ate. The memory is quite vivid. This was my first round of many into the tough, tough world of bulimia.
A bit of background.
As a kid I was always big boned, strong, tall and chubby. I was made fun of for being fat and just all around large. At those ages, I had zero comprehension as to why I was, the way I was. I think we all have these thoughts at some point. Anyways, as a young teen I was obsessed with skateboarding, and trying to be considered a really good skater, I was nowhere close. But I would look through all the skate magazines and MTV videos to find these tiny, thin males who were at the top. Half the time, they would not be wearing a shirt.
Let the body comparisons begin.
Why did I look so much different then these guys? If I can look like them, will I be a better skateboarder? Why is there a big belly on me? What are these love handle things? I think you get the point. So, I quickly leaned it must have something to do with the food I was eating. My diet was pretty terrible as a kid, taco bell, carls jr, brownies, pasta, ice cream ect. Somewhere around this timeframe I learned that there are people in the world who eat their food, then turn around and throw it all back up. "I should do that," I though, "maybe I will look like the guys in the skate magazines." I would constantly compare myself to each and everyone.
And off we go into the morbid world of Eating Disorders.
I started off with some Anorexia, where I just would not eat, starve myself, feel faint, dizzy lightheaded and so forth. From here, I graduated into eating a meal, sticking my hand in my throat, and purging my meal. After a few months, weighing myself about 6 times per day, the meals got bigger.
I would go into the pantry after school, grab a bag of chips, leftover pasta, ice cream, eggo waffles, peanut butter and butter, then sit on the couch, eat every last bite, make my way into our bathroom, and go to town. Oh ya, then I would ensure the scale was a lighter number then before.
It got so bad that at one point, I was doing all of this 6 to 7 times per day. Wreaking havoc on my blood pressure, my stomach acid, my esophagus, my mouth, and my frame of mind. About two years this was going on, and none of my family or friends had a clue, I covered things up as best as I could, but my parents were starting to catch on.
It is a bit difficult to some up some of the thoughts and feelings I had back then into words.
Anyways, around 16 years old, this way of life seemed to be now normal to me. Eating just enough to stay upright, but anything more gets purged into the toilet. The body comparisons did not stop, I would look at my thin athletic friends and would be so envious of their bodies, watch them eat whatever they wanted, and try to make sense of it all. I would use bulimia as a coping mechanism for control. I would get into an argument with my dad and him telling me what to do - chores, get good grades, sports - then feel like the only thing that was in my hands was my eating disorder, binge - purge - binge - purge.
I was a full-on bulimic. Anorexia never seemed to be my forte, as with bulimia, I at least got the satisfaction of eating tasty foods, they just ended up going down then right back up.
My throat would be sore constantly, my teeth and mouth felt disgusting, the taste of bile sat in the back of my mouth every single day. The mind was confused to say the least, but as a stubborn teen, of course "I was fine."
I remember eating gigantic, 3000 calorie meals, walking into the bathroom, dropping to my knees then making sure to get rid of every last drop in my stomach. I needed to be empty. From there, I would lay flat on the bathroom floor for about 10 minutes, shake it off, then go to lacrosse practice or on a run.
Into Many Recovery Attempts.
After a while, the progression of things seemed to be going from bad to worse. My blood sugar and LDL levels must have been off the charts. Constantly lightheaded, dizzy, sore throat, eyes blood shot, I knew that I needed to do something. This cannot be normal. I tried to just eat salads at one point, only greens. That did not work, then I tried to just eat candy or sugar, thinking that will be sustainable. Nope. I tried to just eat what my friends ate or what my parents made, but nothing seemed to digest properly. Flash forward and I am right back to binge eating waffles, peanut butter, butter, pasta and ice cream then making my way straight to the toilet and yacking everything right back up, then stepping on the scale. I was sick of it.
Finally, if I recall, I told my mom that I need help, that my issue is killing me, literally. Her and my dad were just and confused as I was, they didn't know what to do. This landed me in teenage therapy, both group and individual sessions.
There was a disorder center about half an hour away where I met with an elderly woman for an hour, then met with six or seven other girls my age to discuss our messed up mental problems. I hated it. I remember after the very first session, driving home with my dad, and crying my eyes out thinking "what the fuck is wrong with me."
As a 16-year-old guy, in a room full of only girls, my confusion grew.
"Why am I the only guy?"
"This won't help"
"I am too far gone" I thought to myself.
Anyways, the therapy didn't work. Long awkward silences, talking about suicide, strangers wanting to know intimate details about my life, to come back home and listen to my parents argue about how expensive this all was.
This led me right back into kitchen pantry, binge eating and purging.
I would cope with the issues by being a bulimic.
Finally, Some Relief.
As my late teenage years started to fade, I was ready to get better. It became an absolute must for me to control my eating habits, of just not force myself to throw everything up. It took some serious time, concentration and effort. There were many, many failed attempts but it got to the point where each time I would binge and purge, the realization that is was doing more harm than good would happen. Over time, with a bit of dedication, the binge episodes became less frequent.
Into my early twenties, the recognition that this was a bad coping mechanism for when things happened that are out of my control was helpful. I think I was just sick of being sick. I would think back to myself and process the fact that I have been a full-on bulimic for over five years. I kept at my recovery, with many failed attempts. But finally, the eagerness to binge and purge started to fade.
Today.
My career path into being a Personal Trainer & Certified Fitness Nutrition Specialist has had me learn and grow tremendously from a nutritional standpoint. Educating myself through various certifications and applying different meal regiments through trial and error has led me to help others who struggle with consumption. But I still think back from time to time about eating disorders and my experience. How dark and isolated it was, how know one would have ever guess that I was a bulimic.
I guess the point of this post is that someone out there gets some hope that things can get better. That having an eating disorder is a serious matter and is not talked about enough in the fitness industry and mainstream media. That guys are just as likely to develop one as women. Hell, if you just Google the term 'eating disorder,' only females will come up. Finding the help or talking it through can provide some relief. A proper exercise regiment along with some educating yourself on how nutrition works can and will be beneficial.
If you or anyone you know is suffering from an eating disorder, please take this matter seriously. There are resources out there such as;
- Coach Kyle.
- KennyTRY05@gmail.com
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