The mornings were considerably lucid, and even though I had no hunger, I had to eat a bagel. There was no way around it. A binge occurred when I felt so morosely fat, or I did not retain any of the dinner I'd eaten the night before, where one bagel turned into two plus doughnuts, breakfast tacos, etc. My morning ritual used to consist of heading to Einstein's. I was usually the first to arrive, waiting in my car at 5:30 for the doors to open, ordering my bagel to-go, and driving over to school. I would enter the building, sometimes having to wait for security to unlock the doors, head into a classroom, and begin my endless studying. My concentration level was so pathetic, though. Within 15 minutes, I would have to get up, go to the bathroom, come back to my desk, go to my car to get some water, return, until finally I would give into the cafeteria. The cafe doesn't open until 7:30, so until then, I would placate my urges through the vending machines, feeding on Pop-Tarts, Doritos, hell, it could have been cardboard for all that mattered. Purging at school that early in the morning was easy; no one arrived until 7 or later who used the restroom on the second floor. My classes didn't begin until 8 or 9, so I would most usually order a bagel from the cafe, with egg and cheese and salsa, again which would of course be purged within 10 minutes of eating. I don't know how I managed to complete my lab reports in the mornings before class, and complete them well. My brain was always dizzy and clouded. It would take me a week to respond to an email, reading and rereading the message, telling myself I'll write later, then warping back into my foggy mentality. By the time class started, I would have binged, on average, 5 times. I think the reason I love school so much is it allows me the inability to interact with my eating disorder. I'm forced to be cognizant and abstinent for hours at a time. My brain and body respond so eagerly to the respite of my destruction that they want more.
I tried so desperately not to binge after school and before work, but I couldn't stop the cycle. My body must have been so hungry, so ravaged, and I gave into the overwhelming cravings time and time again. Usually I couldn't wait to get into my car to drive to get food, couldn't wait to chew. Often I would stop in the school cafe to order something to put into my mouth, favorably a coke with the crushed ice. This allowed me the opportunity to chew on the ice while I walked to my car, drove to the take-out restaurant (normally Pho), and waited for my order to be prepared; thus, not having to worry about having any food in my stomach too long before I could throw it up. The afternoon binge normally lasted an hour or two, depending on how much time I was allotted. Then off to work.
I'd come home with food, always with food, bags and bags of it, with a bottle of wine, and would lay on the couch willing for my life to be over. I used to wish to die when I was purging, and I would drink to numb the pain of the bulimia. My dad questioned me if I had a problem with alcohol when I was at Ridgeview. I told him no. Should I have answered maybe?* These past three weeks I have rarely drunk anything at all. I will pass at the offer of a beer, I will walk away from a drink half-full, I have no desire to drink a glass of wine, which used to be my drink of choice. I don't think I had or have an addiction with alcohol, but I know damn well I abused the hell out of it. My sleep now is proof of that. But if you put a bowl of pasta in front of me, if there is a piece of cheese in the fridge, if the loaf of bread you buy over the weekend is left in the house, I will tear into it like a coyote on a housecat. Now that is an addiction.
*The Harvard University Eating Disorders Center estimates that 25 percent of women with eating disorders also suffer from substance-abuse problems. -Drinking: A Love Story
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