If this post comes across as rambling or incoherent, please cut me a little slack as I'm writing this in the midst of a firestorm of anger. It's literally seething from every pore in my body. If anger gave off a scent, I would no doubt smell of sulfur and brimstone. To the very core of my being I am awash in the red hot lava of fury, rage and and am about to boil over with torrents of resentment.
And I also want to make it crystal clear that I'm not writing this to elicit sympathy or to persuade anyone to throw a pity party in my honor. I'm writing it because I need to get it out and being honest about this is the only way I know how to do that. The other reason is that maybe someone out there, someone reading this is going through something similar and punishing themselves the way I am. Or thinking about it. Maybe you know someone who is battling with self-image issues or a weight problem and they think bulimia is a way to handle it. It's not! Dear God it's not. What it is, is a living hell that leads to other problems. Take my word for it...listen to me when I tell you that if I don't get this under control, it's going to kill me; sooner rather than later. It also takes a tremendous toll on the people around you.
To what do I owe this anger?
Me!
Take a good look at the picture. That's me. The red area around the corners of my mouth? It's a bacterial infection caused by the bulimia. It's also under my nose, underneath my eyes and on my eyelids. Apparently the bacteria can be transmitted to other parts of my face if I touch my face after getting rid of whatever I've eaten, or in the event that I drool in my sleep...which, OK, I have been known to do occasionally.
It's painful as hell. I feel like someone has taken a blow torch to my face and then it begins to dry out and my face resembles this...
I first noticed it a few weeks ago and thought I had an allergic reaction to some makeup or moisturizer. It eventually dried up and went away. And then it came back last week with a vengeance and the pain was so bad that it forced me to make a doctor's appointment. I try to avoid my family doc at all costs as she's the nicest person on the face of the earth and tiptoes around my nasty little habit, yet at the same time is very direct without being judgmental about making me aware of what this is doing to me.
After nearly 30 minutes spent in her office while she looked in her online reference manuals and amongst her thick desk top tomes, she finally consulted with another partner in the practice who specializes in teen-pediatrics and both concurred that what I had going on all over my face was the result of a nasty bacterial infection due to my bulimia.
They spoke back and forth for a few minutes and agreed that while treating it with oral antibiotics would probably be the quickest and least painful course of treatment...for someone without bulimia; due to my dirty little tendency, I would probably be better off using a topical anti-bacterial gel. Both physicians told me that it would likely get worse before it got better and that the gel could be excruciating to apply. They also mentioned that most insurance carriers didn't cover it. They weren't wrong about that. They also understated the pain this stuff would cause when I applied it. It's like taking a blowtorch to already-scorched skin. It brings tears to my eyes. So much so that I'm terrified of applying this stuff to my eyelids. I don't think I can handle the pain.
Do you know what the most painful part of this entire thing is? I brought this on myself and now because of all my issues, I'm causing my family immense financial strain.
We have always taken great pride in having a financial "cushion" to fall back on in the event of an emergency. Due to doctors, psychologists, psychiatrists, and outpatient clinic appointments and the co-pays that go with it, our cushion is gone. We've also had three other things happen in the last few months that are draining us financially. I won't go into detail in regards to those situations, but suffice it to say, the hit we took due to those instances would not have been so devastating had it not been for my downward spiral.
Having Gaby in Montessori for as long as we did due to my inability to care for her - MY OWN DAUGHTER!!!! - was another financial drain. Don't get me wrong, she loves it and misses being there full time. But we thought that having her home more often with me would help me. Now I'm not so sure. I love her to death and seeing her smile is one of the best parts of my day. But who needs to see their mom go through something like this? I know you might be sitting there saying to yourself, "Audrey, take her out those two days and save that money! It should be obvious!" Well, if I take her out, I have no place to put her while I'm going to my various doctors and other appointments. Believe me, I have thought about it. I've thought about taking her out of Montessori altogether and stopping treatment because at this point, the financial toll it's taking is potentially going to cost us our house...and IT'S ALL MY FAULT!
The toll this is taking on our family isn't just financial. No, not by a long shot.
I can see the strain in Gareth's face and I can hear the stress when he lays next to me at night and doesn't think I'm awake. He strokes my hair and rubs my shoulders and he sighs. It's the most agonizing sound a wife can hear her husband make. He wants his touch to be the salve the heals my broken soul. He's never once complained about any of this. But I know that it must weigh heavily on his mind and heart.
My relationship with Meaghan is at it's all time nadir. She hates the monster I have become and takes it to heart that she can't make me laugh. The last few days have been extremely tense around here as she and I no longer talk. Our disagreements have reached epic proportions and I fear that the ever deepening chasm between us will not be bridged before she leaves for Basic in November.
I feel badly for Matt. He's walked into a situation he knows barely anything about but I'm sure it's obvious that we're stretched tight financially as we aren't able to replace the Volvo that we gave to Meaghan once she got her license, the same one he was going to use once she left for Basic. It's been a great car, but with almost 200,000 miles on it, it was bound to die at some point. And die it did. I don't know what Matt thinks about me at this point. He was privy to the screaming match Meaghan and I got into Saturday night. It was so bad that Gareth had to take Gaby to another part of the house altogether so that she wouldn't be traumatized by the volley of shouts and f-bombs.
All of this takes an even deeper toll on me. I feel so guilty. We worked our asses off to get into this house. But I am honest enough to admit that we should have waited for something smaller in Cape Elizabeth. But no...I had to have this house. At the time we could easily afford it. Then once we were in and settled our little town reassessed property values and our property taxes shot through the roof. OK, no biggie. We'll tighten our belts. Then my younger son Zack had a crisis at the exact time The Very Bad Thing happened and well...it all started to go to hell in a hand-basket.
Now we're at a very scary place where we want to fight like hell to keep our house but ultimately it's going to mean making a decision between continuing my treatment or making mortgage payments. Yes, we've been to our lender, to various gov't agencies, etc, and for a handful of reasons we qualify for nothing. Not a damn thing. The other kicker in all of this...our house has lost almost $100K in value since we bought it in July of '07 and it's only going to get worse with our area's major employer, a naval air base, closing soon.
There are so many other negative aspects to this disorder, not to mention it's just plain foul! I go through toothpaste and mouthwash at alarming rates. I have sores in my mouth. The enamel on my teeth is being eroded away by the stomach acid. I cry every time I do it - it's my body's way of reacting to the violent forces involved in making myself force my food back up. I'm terrified someone is going to hear me do this and that causes even more anxiety. And now? Now there are some foods I can't even handle any more that automatically come back up. This isn't a fun way to live...not at all. And to ice the cake. I'm still obese. Bulimia is not a solution. It just creates more problems.
So you see, the real cost of bulimia is much more than financial. It's mental, it's emotional, and it's certainly physical. It affects every fucking aspect of my life and I hate it. What I hate most is that I created this monster and I have no idea how to kill it before it kills me. And that my friends, that makes me hate myself even more.
