Waters - My secret life : a memoir of bulimia

Acknowledgements

Firstly, I would like to thank Michelle, a wonderful psychologist and an even better woman. Without you, I never could have made it through such a terrible time in my young life.

I would also like to thank my Granddad John, who instilled in me a most devout passion for writing. You have been an inspiration to me since I was a child and I will never forget all your encouragement and all your teachings about our shared craft of writing.

Furthermore, I was blessed to have been taught by three very special teachers throughout my education. Thank you to Mr. Enright, Ms. Dunne, and Ms. Traynor-Byrne. All of you saw potential in me when I dont think I truly saw it in myself. Whatever flair for writing I had before, it was because of you that I was brought to a standard of actually being able to publish this book. Thank you for believing in me. Finally, I would like to thank John Mooney, who took a chance on me and on my little story.

Foundations

I have never liked the term bulimia. As human beings, we seem to feel the need to categorize everything and everyone. In doing so, we innocently attempt to better understand that which has undergone our necessary classifications. I, unfortunately, understand this more than most. But I dislike the term nonetheless. You see, once labelled, said thing or person must from that point onwards operate under that register almost exclusively. Like everyone else, I never wanted to be pigeonholed in any particular way, let alone by something like bulimia nervosa. Since accepting the reality of my condition, however, I find myself greatly altered and living what now feels like an accidental existence. I do not think, feel or behave as others do anymore. Instead, I think, feel and behave as a bulimic would. The distinction is all too evident both to myself and to others. Once the term itself has been applied, you are forever condemned to it. It shapes you, changes you and worst of all, it victimizes you. And for this, I hate it with a feverous passion. The problem is, in being bulimic I cannot fully be me; but without bulimia, there is no me.

And so, I have been seduced into not only accepting the term, but embracing it wholeheartedly to the very core of my being. I am bulimic. And everything about me is defined under that term; that often invisible umbrella which looms over all I do and everything I am.

Someone I used to love very much once told me that bulimia was merely an idea and that its existence was dependent wholly on the strength of mind of the given individual. Its not impossible that my pride is what prevents me from believing this argument. As if being bulimic isnt ego-wounding enough, am I now to accept that its my own fault and simply a result of my own weak mind? I rather contend that it is my experience and now educated feelings that cause me to disagree on the matter.

But I suppose I do bear some of the responsibility, despite others having tried so tirelessly to convince me otherwise. Its natural for most loved ones to entertain the idea that none of this was my fault, particularly when blame and guilt have been such viciously active factors of the illness itself. But alleviating myself of all the responsibility is something I cant do. Because to a large extent, I secretly wanted this. Dont get me wrong, you dont exactly wake up one morning and say, I think Im going to be bulimic from now on. But once in the grip of it, you learn to embrace it like a friend, like your closest comrade and you would do anything to keep it safe. But were getting ahead of ourselves now.

Naturally, I just cant bring myself to agree that bulimia is merely a notion or idea. An idea is something you conceive yourself. I didnt conceive this, or at least not consciously. Nor did I create it. Sometimes it feels like I was born with it, as if it were an organ in my biological make-up, inactive until recent years when it decided to make itself known. Yes, she had always been there; waiting, growing, learning. I have had no singular trauma in my life to cause her debut. People seem to think that thats exclusively why an eating disorder comes about, but not mine. I once received an upper-cut to the face for not giving a girl a cigarette that landed me in St. Colmcilles Hospital, but thats about it. If anything, I even relish in the fact that I can now say very truthfully that I can take a mean punch.

But I wont insult my bulimia by claiming that this or any other isolated incident gave birth to her being. Youll have to excuse my use of the term her. Im not simply addressing my bulimia as a man would a car, but am referencing it as I have come to know it. She is the person that lies deep within me; alive, almost fully formed and with feelings and beliefs as any other person would possess. And without her, I dare not think what would be left of me. This is part of the reason I find difficulty warming to the expression bulimia nervosa. Its too clinical and does not give full credit to the weighty person she has become. She is more than bulimia. She is my other half and the darkness inside me that gives way to all my light. And for this, I will endeavour to never insult her. Even still, I sometimes wish I could protect her.

In order to find her foundations, we must go back to my own. Though its difficult now to think of a time when she didnt exist, I am convinced that at some point in my life I must have been a person without bulimia. Or else, I must have been a person under some other, more appeasing, title. Perfectionist, high-achiever, anal-retentive; take your pick. I was once ranked among all of the above. I no longer consider myself any of these things but that question remains open to debate. I suppose, to a certain extent, I never did consider myself any of these things. If I did, perhaps I wouldnt have been so hell-bent in my pursuit of perfection in the first place. Indeed, it was this very pursuit that often justified my unhealthy habits and even the disease itself. Let me explain.

I am a person who thoroughly enjoys profiling. Though I dont claim to have any academic or psychological understanding to do so, more often than not, I will take an individual and mentally weigh up all I know of them to come to a conclusive decision on their character. The conclusion is subject to the current time and is variable; it can change with my growing understandings of the person, different experiences and of course, shifts in the traits of the individuals themselves. Now, I know what youre thinking; living with this girl must be hell. And youd be right. It is rather excruciating living with me. Unfortunately, however, I cant get away from me. That established, you can now appreciate the agonising scrutiny I put myself under. But dont give me too much of your sympathy because as Ive said, this is something I enjoy doing; or at the very least, its something Ive always done and have now just persuaded myself into believing is enjoyable. Upon personal reflection, I am no longer just one unit. I break myself into boxes and when separated, the contents of each may be better analysed and more closely examined. Well take it one box at a time.

I am a very spiritual person. My faith is unyielding and ingrained so deeply into my very being that it has evolved into an invisible limb that works with and similarly to all others. Spirituality, therefore, is a very notable box. To perfect it and all it stands for, I am a practising Catholic. Despite its apparent unpopularity among my own generation, I attend weekly mass, say bedtime prayers and every now and again will even bother to read a particular scripture that my mother has come across and suggested. Furthermore, Im proud of this. Though I make no attempts to boast about something so private, I relish in this ideal. I am Catholic by chance of upbringing but by contrast, my faith is something entirely internal and honest, untouchable even. As such, I am proud of the perfection with which I have tried to facilitate that faith. This box, consequently, is full. And if such an occasion arises that calls this perfection into question, the entire box will be upended, re-evaluated and altered if necessary.