I wrote this when I was about 15 years ago. It is the start a memoir that i meant to finish but never got around to.
“Life is full of misery, loneliness, and suffering – and it’s all over much too soon.” A famous quote said by a famous person who some how knew exactly what my life is like and my feelings towards it. I let my problems and issues define who I am. Without them I am nothing. I wouldn’t know how to cope with life and the pains of growing up. But yet at the same time life would be more bearable with out these issues. It is a never-ending paradox. Ed is my best friend and my worst enemy. He latches on to my mind and tries to control me, and I let it happen. Ed is my eating disorder, my bulimia. I found him when I was 11. Before he came along I have never felt right as a child. I hated social interactions with the other children. In fact I hated the other children period. I spent most of my elementary school years in a plastic toy house where I would let my imagination run wild and just make sand castles. Kids were mean and as a seven year old I had no backbone whatsoever. Standing up to other children was simply out of the question. But the more I grew, the less awkward I became. I discovered kids more like me. Weird on the inside, weird on the outside. I attended a middle school for 6th and half of 7th grade where people embraced the weirdness of themselves and others. I felt at home. Only problem is that it was an accelerated school. We were forced to take chemistry and physics. No 6th grader should be taking physics. I was then force to transfer to what would be considered a normal middle school. This school was about ten times easier, closer to where we lived, and filled with kids who thought they were hot shit. At the time of transfer, these kids seemed all right, although it wouldn’t be before long that they all became the epitome of my hatred. As much as I would like to blame those who I dislike for my pain and suffering, it would be consider dishonest. Good people aren’t intentionally dishonest. I actually started feeling pretty bad about myself in 6th grade. I learn that by throwing up what I eat, I can loose weight. It was the best of both of worlds. Unlike an anorexic, I get to enjoy to delicious taste of food and also in great quantity. By throwing it up, none of the calories. It was the most foolproof plan I had ever come up with. It started out only a few times every other week. I would purge food that I knew was not healthy. Shortly after finding this miraculous diet, I began drinking. Drinking had eased up my urge to purge. I puked enough while drinking, so I had no need to waste the food I did eat. I starved myself Thursdays and Fridays so by Friday night I would be completely annihilated. This went on for about three years. Near the end I was miserable. My head was filled with hostility. It was tug-a-war between two disorders. My alcoholism told me to drink beer. I drank beer. Ed told to purge the beer. I purged the beer. At the end of the night it was a lose-lose situation. My alcoholism usually came out on top. Drinking turned in to an every day thing. The scary part is I can’t pin point when my drinking started getting bad, but that’s a whole other story.