It takes and takes, then takes some more,

but it never gives back. There are so many things that my eating disorder has taken from me. It has taken my strength, my tears, food, security, my health, my sanity, money, my happiness and my time. It has taken my faith, a friendship, and tainted some of the most amazing moments in my children's lives. I have lived in a fog for 3 years. Bulimia feels like that. Sleep, binge, purge. You are always thinking ahead to how you are going to get rid the food you have eaten. So, even when you are not acting on your disorder, you are planning it. And if you aren't planning for it, you are trying to fight it and ending up in a circular battle alone in your own brain. You come up with the most despicable ways of deceiving people. I hate writing that. I hate admiting that I've lied. I am a liar. I have thrown up just about everywhere you can think of that I could get away with it.

There have been times in my life that I have eaten normally. When I was pregnant, I ate for the baby. It's funny. I know there were other times when I ate normally, but I can't really point them out. Most of the time I was restricting in some way or purging through exercise. I hardly ever ate breakfast and would not allow myself to eat until after 2pm, when the kids were napping. I didn't eat much either. I made it a game sometimes and would only eat what I could burn off through running or doing Tae Bo. When I went through my first separation in 2005, it was very tough and that was the worst it had been since college. Then the separation and eventual divorce in 2008 was also really tough. I was able to refocus myself when I started with the triathlons. It was easier knowing I was eating for a good reason. I was, once again, an athlete. It felt so good. It felt so good to be competing for me.

When Kasper came along and changed my life, I was doing ok. Not perfect, still restricting in ways, but ok. But something funny happened. This man, this perfect-for-me-in-every-way-man, fell in love with me. ME! Ha! What was he missing? I kept wondering if he was crazy. (he kind of has to be in order to be with me) I fought him pretty hard, trying to convince him that he didn't know what he was getting into. I told him how crazy my life was, what it would mean for him... I mean, he was a bachelor, living the high life in Copenhagen! (not to mention, a complete stud muffin who could get any beautiful girl he wanted!)

Ask him how many times I tried to cut and run. He probably can't even count. I was so scared of being hurt and I just knew that I didn't deserve someone like him. But in the in between times, when I started accept that maybe, just maybe, he really loved me and I deserved him, that's when the bulimia got me.

I know it doesn't make sense on the surface, so let me explain. Suddenly, someone loved me in a way I had been aching for since high school. He loved me fiercely and passionately and with an "I'm not taking "no" for an answer," kind of way. He knew what he wanted and that was me. I was in a tailspin! Here I am thinking that no one could ever love me that way and me feel the same way in return and BAM! The times when I let myself believe it were when I started to let myself eat because, I deserved to eat, right? But that is where bulimia gained its voice. "You're going to get fat and then he won't love you anymore. He only loves you because you are skinny. If you gain weight, there are a million other women out there he could have." I would go days without eating and then once in a while I would be so hungry I couldn't stop eating.

Then on Christmas day 2008, in my parent's bathroom, I learned how to throw up without using my finger. I could throw up before, but not much would come out. It was a very bad thing to learn. It started slowly. I was still mostly on the anorexic side doing lots of restricting. But when I would get too hungry, I began to eat as much as I wanted, knowing that I could get rid of it. I was actually a little giddy about learning this "new trick." I could eat and I didn't gain weight! I started doing it after meals though because I wanted to lose weight. It worked for a little bit, but by the time it stopped working, I could not stop doing it. I was hooked and could not break free. It didn't matter what I did, or what I tried. Most of the time I thought it wasn't that bad because I thought I could stop whenever I felt like it. Tommorrow. Okay, well the next day. Time kept going and I just kept getting worse. I was an addict.

In the midst of this, I broke my collar bone and traveled to Denmark just a week after my surgery. Standing in the customs line on the way home was when I found out about the abnormal test results that resulted in my cervical cancer.

It is a horrible thing. Once you start to really try to fight it, you gain weight. Immediately. And I know, logically, that there are real reasons why you gain weight. So, what do you do? You go back to it because it scares you. Every single thing that scares the bulimic is exactly what happens to you in recovery. EXACTLY. It is terrifying for me. But like I said yesterday: Recovery is scary, but dying is scarier.

I would like to have someone ask a question. Even a really difficult one. I want to answer even the most difficult questions. If you have one or several, post it/them or send me a message. I will answer. I think it will be good for me.