Battling addiction

It first started when I was in college, a mere undergrad at a reputable university in Southern California. I looked at my peers with envy and admiration, cursing my poor genetics and blaming my harsh mother for causing me to have such an unhealthy relationship with food.

I’ve always been a bit chubby, slightly round in the face. In fact, I don’t even know what I would look like without a double chin. I had brief moments here and there where I was slender, but the moments were always fleeting. My Korean-American mother had no idea how unhealthy some American foods were and let me indulge in the unhealthiest of ways. It’s also possible that she just didn’t care. I’m talking about peanut butter and Mayo sandwiches with potato chips smashed inside. Feel free to judge me, I’m in the same boat as you.

My mother just wasn’t very interested in cooking since it was just the two of us so I was usually left to my own devices. I was active enough in high school and with my extracurricular activities so I naturally had a healthy appetite. I gorged on burgers from Wendy’s nearly every day after school, came home to a gluttonous concoction involving mayonnaise somehow, and then stuffed my face with a pound of cream cheese and a bagel at the community college I attended in the evenings. Then after all of that, finished the day by being scolded by my mother for not being good enough at anything.

I was exhausted. I felt so alone, like such a failure, and the will to live was nonexistent. The only thing I felt like I had was taking comfort in food. The second the cream cheese hit my palette was just bliss. It was my escape. It was the only thing that brought me any semblance of joy.

However, this escalated. Fast forward to college and I didn’t gain the Freshman 15. No sir, I gained a whopping 30lbs in one year. My resting heart rate was 95bpm and my body was riddled with stretch marks from the sudden weight gain. Surprisingly though, boys still liked me. I’ve always theorized that looks come second, even with the douchiest of guys. I was well-liked, active in student government, and sorta popular despite my weight. I started dating a decent guy who was sort of a beta and at the time, I was fine with it. It was easy.

Lo and behold, this beta started making me feel bad. Harsh insults about my weight disguised as genuine concerns began to insue. His eyes started to wander and he was very actively checking out girls around us whenever we were out, to the point where he wasn’t even trying to hide it. Then I overheard him mention how “hot” my roommate was and how he’d rather be with her.

I was gutted. So I decided to do something about it. A normal, rational person would have broken up with such a disgusting human being, but no. A history of blaming myself for everything led me down a different path. I was heading down a long road that eventually led to binging and purging for over a decade.

I actually felt as if the whole thing was very easy. I never had difficulty purging and learned to do it effectively, relatively quickly. There were a few moments where I think I was making it too obvious amongst my friends, but not to the point where anyone ever said anything. I just needed 10 minutes away and the deed was done. I would spend my day dreaming about all the things I would get to eat, happily conjuring up combinations of gluttony. “What flavor of Ben and Jerry’s would I have today?”, “Shall I have an entire pizza today with mozzarella sticks?”, “Sushi comes up easily, I’ll have four rolls today”.

It didn’t help that I was drawn to men that screamed infidelity. I purged so often that my last ex surely knew what I was doing but I don’t think he cared enough to say anything. He made me feel incredibly loved at times and absolutely shit the other times. He ended up cheating on me so often that I became numb to it. I was so desperate for love and approval that I ignored it. I just wanted to be happy.

This has been such a long road. I’m nowhere near the finish line but I told myself that I would celebrate my victories instead of obsessing over my failures. My current relationship is healthier and has helped me to heal from my past traumas. It’s not a perfect scenario by any means, and I’m not confident in how long we will last, but I’m grateful for him entering my life for the time being. We are very active together and on similar diets so the urges to purge have been getting less frequent over time. Focusing on so much protein consumption to gain muscle mass automatically makes you less interested in carbs, I suppose. I also weigh the least I’ve weighed in a very long time while eating the most I’ve ever eaten (and kept down). It’s a pleasant consequence of dating a personal trainer. It’s now been a little over a month since I’ve had an incident and this is the first time in over a decade where I’ve gone this long without purging.

So, yay me. Life is just so hard but we don’t need to make it harder on ourselves. Love yourself as much as you can. I write this after spending the entire day hating myself and criticizing every stretch mark and bulge on my body but sometimes you just need to inhale, exhale, and be grateful for how long you’ve come. This is just the beginning for me, I can feel it.