The above picture really doesn’t have anything to do with the post, it’s just a picture of a swimming hole in Baja California del Sur that I remember with particular fondness. I was speaking with someone in Mexico today (skype is awesome!) and was recalling my trip there a few years ago. Must go back someday. It’s a good reminder that there’s a whole world out there.
The first principle in my recovery program is to admit that I have a problem. Specifically, that I am powerless over bulimia (not just food in general—important distinction to be made later on) and that my life has become unmanageable.
It’s hard enough to type those words out, and it’s even tougher to say them out loud. It’s hard for me to admit that I am absolutely no match for bulimia. I have always derived a good portion of my sense of self-identity from my ability to do and to be better than challenges that came my way. I also identified myself as a strong, determined person who could grit their teeth and get through a lot of stuff.
Not surprisingly, having to admit that I have let the simple process of nourishment get so out of whack that it ruined IM FL, that it caused me so much anguish, sadness and depression…it’s tough to swallow. But, it’s part of honesty. I’ve been far more open and honest with others about my eating disorder than ever before, now I just need to be more open and honest with myself. Admitting to someone that I have bulimia is pretty easy in comparison to telling myself, and believing, that I am powerless over it.
But, it’s true.
And as I stated above, it’s not just food, or rather, overeating. It’s also what I do when I’m not overeating—restricting calories in an effort to lose weight fast. Those two opposite ends of the spectrum are killer. Together, they are bulimia.
Something that goes hand in hand with all this is pride and humility. As a Latter-Day Saint, luckily I already have what I consider to be a decent relationship with my higher power—namely, my Heavenly Father.
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