It starts with a trigger. A thought, a picture, a mere mention of food. The slippery slope begins. I’m focused. I’m determined. My mind is set to tunnel vision and I am unstoppable.
Once I reach the kitchen, a floating, light, yet oddly satisfying sensation overcomes my body. My hands are moving so quickly, so sure. They know exactly where to go, what to grab, completely disconnected from the rest of me. My mouth becomes an opening, innocently unaware of what’s entering and what’s soon to be exiting.
My brain is on autopilot. It’s already done its job- make sure nobody is around, make sure there’s plenty of food, make sure the bathroom is vacant. Three checks.
At some point a black out takes place. I can never pinpoint exactly when, but it ends abruptly as I kneel in front of the toilet, toothbrush at hand, while the sound of the steaming shower covers up the resisting gag of my throat.
Get it all out. Don’t stop. Close your eyes. Tighter. Don’t look. Ignore the blood. Wipe the tears. Blow your nose. Slowly look. Be sure you’re satisfied. Wipe the excess around the seat and on the walls. Flush. Flush again. Turn off the shower.
The end is the worst. Staring at yourself in the foggy mirror. Knowing you’ve failed yet again. Seeing the pathetic streaks the tears have left on your cheeks. Your blood shot eyes gazing back at you in exhaustion.
Your brain turns back on.
“You’re weak”. I know.