From Fat to Thin and Back Again: Part 6 - The End

(If you need to read Part 5 - Click Here!)

There I was in my room, sitting on my bed, counting how many pills I had left. Counting how many days I could continue this self mutilating act without the nuisance of dealing with the pangs of hunger that inevitably creep up on you when you starve yourself.

The mere thought that I had been exposed festered in the pit of my stomach all afternoon. I was exhausted.

I found myself wondering what I was doing. Why was I starving myself again? Oh right, because the rest of my life was a mess and controlling my eating was my escape. I could control everything that went into my mouth and that felt like something. And feeling something was better than nothing.

******

My life continued on as if none of this ever happened. That day, the day I was confronted was the last day I ever put one of the yellow pills into my mouth.

It seems the only thing I was really after was for someone to notice. For someone to notice I was dying on the inside as my parents were visibly dying on the outside.

I was a teenager dealing with death. Even though, at the time, it appeared I was just dealing with sick people. But death was there. I knew it. And, it scared me.

No one ever asked how I was doing. Even in my discovery, no one ever really asked how I was doing. No one ever asked why. No one, it seems, even cared.

But, I cared. I cared that I was killing myself. I cared that what I was doing was silly and selfish. I decided there were better ways to get attention. There were better options. Options like talking to my mom about her condition even though she cried her ways through her days and never got dressed out of her pajama's.

I did a one-eighty.

Instead of being quiet and reserved about what was happening, I started talking. I moved my bed into the dining room next to my mother because the closeness is what I needed. I decided to actually take control back from her disease and actually live my life instead of let it live me.

*****

As much as many people would say what I went through was terrible and my reaction even worse - it's what got me through. We all cope in different ways. Some turn to alcohol. Some turn to self mutilation. And some, well, some deal directly with what they are facing.

In the end, we all get through, despite those bumps and bruises along the way.

And, now, if anyone I know ever suggests that they lose weight with some pill I freak out. I freak out because those pills to me are sign that you are hiding from something. For me, that's true. I was hiding from my life with those pills much like an alcoholic hides from their lives with alcohol. I see that now.

What's funny is that I still cope with hard situations with food. Now, though? I eat. I eat and eat and eat.