Everything was spinning out of control. People in and out of my house all day. MY house. Most of them I knew, but everyone felt like a stranger. The air was so thick with grief that it became a challenge to fit myself into any given room and not feel claustrophobic. And then there was the crying. Wailing, actually. The kind of wail you hope you never have to hear again, because knowing the depth of pain coming from your mom makes your heart feel like it's going to explode from the mounting pressure inside. And the smell of busy women in the kitchen. Always the food.
Their solution. My arch-nemesis.
This was day 2. The first morning I woke up to my new reality. The reality where he was gone and my life was never going to be the same. Jennie and Lauren were still sleeping on my floor. Last night was a long night. My eyes stick together and I realize that even all those tears didn't wash away the black mascara residue. I think I slept. Then again, nothing feels right so I'm not really sure. The house is still in the early morning. Whispers, albeit faint are all I can make out. I emerge from my room. I just want to go downstairs. Maybe watch a movie.
Beth, you are up. How are you? Can I get you anything? Have you eaten?
All the energy I can muster up results in a small head shake. Wait, what was the question? Oh right, yes, I'm up. My dad didn't come home last night because he's dead. Other than the fact that I'm hollow inside, sure, I'm ok. Unless you can bring him back I don't think I need anything from you, thanks.
Sweetheart, you need to eat.
Still not saying a word I stare at them. Eat? Do you KNOW what just happened? I don't think I'm hungry.
What do you want, Beth. Eggs? Bacon? Cereal? We can run to the store.
I want to go back to sleep. Instead I move my feet a bit and find myself in a daze at the table. Now I'm staring at food. I look downstairs. There must be 20 people here. And everyone is staring at me. Waiting for me to take a bite.
It didn't take long before the house was buzzing again. Busy people moving too fast for me to follow. Others huddled together and cried. Being lost in the chaos for a bit was ok. But it didn't take long before the questions started.
How are you? Can I get you anything? You need to eat.
It made no sense to me why everyone cared so much about me eating. It wasn't going to change how much I hurt. It wasn't going to bring him back. It wasn't going to erase the image of his eyes rolling back into his head as he struggled to breathe. It wasn't going to change the fact that I was the one with him, and I couldn't save him. No, food wasn't going to help.
Nothing tasted good. Everything made my stomach hurt. Over the passing days my ability to leave the house or be alone in my room became contingent upon my eating. All of these people who had seemingly moved in at my mothers request just wouldn't let it go. I knew better than to disrespect these adults. And I certainly didn't want to bother my mom, for fear of hearing her cry again.
I smiled and said no thanks probably 15 times a day. It's not that I didn't want to eat anything ever, I just lost my appetite.
Finally I lost it. Kati was standing over my plate of eggs. I wasn't allowed to see my aunt from out of town if I didn't eat these eggs. I don't like eggs. I don't even feel good. She told me I needed them. I just can't do it.
Aunt Josy calls. She Had a fight with my mom and stopped talking to us months ago. But she was back! She was going to come get me and take me out of the house. I'm supposed to pick out an outfit for the funeral. I'm not wearing black.
Eat the eggs. You better hurry. Your mom doesn't want to see Josy.
I force yet another meal down my throat. It gets stuck in my esophagus and it's hard to breathe. I'm trying to hurry.
I eat just enough so that Kati will let me leave. I walk to the front room but there is nowhere left to sit. I see my aunt walking up the driveway. My heart races. And then I realize my mom is one of the people on the couch.
You're going to leave with her? Not unless she apologizes. I check out at this point and come back only to realize these women are having a full blown fight with only the window between them. So are you going? Huh?? Mom repeats herself and again asks if I'm going. I think I'm supposed to say no. I just stand there. I don't know what to do. My head starts spinning and my knees get wobbly and people are getting blurry.
I finally say no. I can't stop crying. Everything hurts. Why did Josy just leave? Again. My stomach starts pinching me and I feel it turn almost in a circle. I run to the bathroom so nauseous I barely make it before the eggs reappear.
I emerge but nobody seems to notice. 10 minutes later someone else tells me I need to eat something. I just want to go outside. I am too tired to keep fighting. A pattern emerges.
I'm not hungry.
They make me eat.
I feel sick.
It's been a few weeks. People are still always here. I get to go out a lot. Movies, the mall, to a friends. Most people treat me different. Some ask questions but most just say they are sorry.
I want to leave now. But she says I have to eat. I have nowhere to go. But I eat. And then I feel sick. And I'm so angry that nobody will listen to me. I don't want to be here. I feel a wave of nausea. I go to the bathroom but nothing happens. My stomach hurts so bad I can't stand it. I remember once having the flu and my aunt making me throw up. I try putting my hands in my mouth. I gag. I try it again. Gag a little harder. Again. And now that stupid food is gone. Out of me. My stomach stops aching as a flood of chills come over me. I just made that happen. I just made myself feel better for the first time in weeks.
The tactic worked. From now on, when people were fighting or making me do things I didn't want to do, I had a way to feel better. In my suddenly chaotic life I had control of something. As quickly as I had practically been orphaned, I had a secret solution. I choose what I eat. Or, what stays in my body after I eat it.
Fast forward 16 years. Similar scene- people everywhere.
Hey Beth, you're here. Are you ok? Need anything? Have you eaten? A flood of memories rush my brain. Why is this so upsetting?
I take a step back and begin to observe. Aunt Jeanne and Uncle John come and bring food. Karlin calls and says people want to sign-up to bring meals. Heidi starts cooking. Danny is asking me what I want to eat.
It's an obsession? Instinct?
I'm furious. And then God speaks.
My mom is devastated. She's all puffy and pale and I just want to do something to help. I say the words I had loathed so much just hours before. Mom, have you eaten? I'm going to make you dinner, you need to eat.
16 years ago the desire to try and do something when feeling completely helpless had triggered a response that changed my life. My need for control of something quickly became the sickness that controlled me. It was so innocent in gesture; it was the downward spiral that waged a war on my mind and body an cost me more than I probably even know....
This is the start of how I became bulimic.
The start of my fear of food.
The gateway for the enemy and the root of my body struggles to date.
I've been trapped in a jail cell for 16 years. Losing my grandmother just gave me the key to my freedom.
It's about time.
