Something finally worth celebrating!

Yes! It has been a whole month since I last made myself sick. A whole month and I haven't even been given an appointment at the eating disorder clinic yet!
I'm doing well if I do say so myself :)

Breakdown

Wow.
Just when I think I'm doing well and am maybe getting over this disorder, I get in such a mess that I almost purge in front of my boyfriend.
It was a school disco themed night at university and me and my friends went with Jack and his friends. It was actually such a great night but then as usual I may have had one too many drinks...
It wasn't entirely my fault. Leaving the club a young guy fell and cracked his head off the pavement, knocking him out and making him bleed from his ear.
Immediately I was taken back to just over a year ago, when my mum got drunk again, but this time instead of finding her sleeping sprawled across the kitchen table or hanging off the end of the couch, I found her snoring at the bottom of the stairs.
Fed up, I began shaking her to wake her up, and got angry at her for being so wasted again, thats when I noticed the blood pouring down my arm from her ear.
Phoning the ambulance, I have never been more scared in my life, I thought that was it, I'd lost my mum.
To cut a long story short she had fallen down the stairs, but survived with a fractured skull and perforated eardrum; she is now deaf in one ear although has been told she was lucky that's the only long term damage she suffered since usually when people fracture the part of the skull she did  (between the ear and brain) they are either paralysed down one side, or die.
So seeing this guy bleeding out of his ear on the floor just made it all flood back, and I was alone since a drunken Jack had wandered off.
When he came back and found me we had the biggest argument we've had so far, and embarrassingly in the street.
I don't even know why, I think I was just a bit all over the place and I like having someone to blame.
When we got back to my house I was so worked up I just had to do 'it'.
I went to the bathroom but Jack followed me in and, crying, told me if I was going to do it I would have to do it in front of him.
It was one of the most emotional moments of my life, I had no idea what to do.
I even got as far as kneeling in front of the toilet and lifting the lid before breaking down.
I couldn't do it.
I can't believe I nearly did.
God I'm not as fixed as I thought.

Back to Earth

My Paris bubble has officially burst and I am back home and at university. It's been three weeks and I'm still going strong so far but now I'm back here I'm worried I'm going to slip into the old routines, being able to binge and purge and nobody ever suspecting a thing and not having to try so hard to hide it- throwing up can easily be disguised as a hangover to students!
It's been such a battle and I can't stop thinking about it.
Jack's been round my flat every night even when we've not spent the day together, he says it's because he's not used to being alone at night after being constantly together in Paris and a bit before that, but I think he wants to sort of get in the way of me doing it.
I could get annoyed but I'm not, I love the fact he's being so sweet and good God I love spooning at bedtime!
Freshers week is rubbish this year, after the hospital incident which led to the outing of my eating disorder and this blog, I was told by the doctors not to drink and I've realised I don't like the person I am with alcohol anyway. But it's just so boring without it! The only thing that can make dubstep sound bearable is a lot of shots, and even then it's enough to make me just purge right in the middle of the dance floor anyway! I feel so old, what happened to party Charli??
I guess change can be good sometimes?...

Je suis grande!

So what better way to celebrate my two week achievement than visit the most beautiful city in the world! And what better way to make it all seem totally not worthwhile than putting on your favourite dress ready to scale the Eiffel Tower and finding it no longer fits. Not even close.
I had Jack trying his best to force the zip but it just wouldn't budge, but determined me was going to get into it. Lets just say after a LOT of struggling, tears and even blood on beautiful cream dress, I still ended up in a heap on the floor in my underwear.
Since when does not purging make you so fat? I wasn't expecting massive effects straight away, God I feel terrible.
But the main part of the story- I still didn't do 'it'! Even I'm surprised that didn't push me to.
Once I'd recovered from the dress trauma and put on another (fitting) one, we headed out of the hotel for the start of our 5 day 'tour de France' (without the bikes of course, just amazing buildings and food).
Paris is most definitely amazing.
I've just now returned from my second day and have already climbed the Eiffel Tower, wandered around Notre Dame, played piano in the oldest hospital in Paris, which was weirdly open as a tourist attraction even though it still had patients, climbed what seemed like a million steps to the top of la Sacre-Coeur to see one of the most amazing views of my life, watched artists paint in Montmartre and stood outside the Moulin Rouge (if I had a spare €130 I'd have been on the inside).
Not bad for so little time eh?
My legs have never been in more pain in my life though, and my feet are definitely paying for all the walking and climbing they've been subjected to.
You never know, maybe my dress will fit me again by Friday!

It's a milestone!

2 weeks! Well, in 30 minutes it will be two weeks but I trust myself not to spoil it in the next 30 minutes.
I can't believe it's been so long since I purged, especially with all the temptation there has been recently! I am definitely proud of myself though, for the first time I think I actually want to stop for me, not for anyone else which feels good.
I know I can do this!
I've had some lovely comments from people who have been reading this blog (which I am still amazed at, didn't expect anyone to want to read it), and I honestly think they're helping me understand what I have to do and it's always great knowing you're not alone. So thank you!
Can't believe how far I've come in such little time, I miss it but I think I've lost a bit of myself to the eating disorder and want to work on getting it back.
I still haven't had my letter from the eating disorder clinic but I'm a bit worried that when I do they'll laugh me out of the clinic because I've almost sorted myself out alone. We'll see.
Not much else to say today, just wanted to give a quick update!
Hope the positivity continues!

Picture post

Just came across this picture and I thought I would share it. Wish I could see myself better!

Mission impossible

Okay so maybe I can't do this alone.
I have just eaten/ binged on an Indian takeaway that could have fed a whole family; chicken tikka, chicken tikka masala, chicken korma, sagaloo, rice and naan, followed by a massive portion of homemade trifle and can't remember the last time I wanted to do 'it' so badly.
I'm sweating, shaking, feel sick, have a weird, horrible taste in my mouth- I think going cold turkey is literally making me more ill than the bulimia.
I guess I'm proud of myself for hitting the one week milestone but at the same time I feel so weak, if I was strong I could carry on and hide it better.
I was so close to doing it that I told Jack. I'm not even 100% sure why, or what I was hoping he would say but I haven't gone through with it so maybe it's a good thing I did.
Throwing up sucks.
If I was going to have an eating disorder, why can't I have a good one? If I was anorexic, at least I'd look how I wanted! I just torture myself for no results, and although I know I'm probably never going to get any results, ever, I just can't bring myself to give it up.
It's not fair, it's MY thing, the only little thing I have that's my own and now everyone wants to meddle in.
Apart from my mum that is.
Seen Super-Mum (who, surprise surprise has a new boyfriend, we'll see how long it takes this one to start beating her), for the first time since she found out about me and she made it all about her. I don't know why I'm surprised, should have expected it would become another reason for her to drink herself into oblivion, use me as an excuse, it's what she does with everything but this time I was just hoping I would be more important than her self pity.
My 14 year old brother, Millan, has taken it hard though; he sat and cried to me, telling me he just wishes he'd noticed and have done something to help me. He remembered all the times he had called me fat in an argument and was hugging me telling me he was really sorry and never meant any of it. This was the first reaction out of everybody that knows that actually made me feel so ashamed and guilty, I love my brothers more than anything and can't believe I've made him feel like this is his fault. It's not his fault, it's not even my mum's fault, it's my big fat selves fault.
But on a more positive note I'm at Jack's families house for a few days, it's nice to disappear from all the shit from home every once in a while, I can get away! Until my doctors appointment Thursday that is, where I have to go through it all again...
Yay...

Happy happy!

Day 4 and counting!
Today hasn't even really been a struggle, for the first time since I can remember I didn't even think about it.
The whole day I've been packing my stuff up to go back to university, as well as my case for PARIS! I really do have the most amazing boyfriend there is, whisking me away to the most romantic city in the world at just the right time.
Of course the skinny Parisian girls are going to give me a complex, of course all the French breads and cheeses are going to make me panic, of course the tiny hotel rooms with the toilet about an inch from Jack at all times is going to make it difficult for me to 'do it', but do you know what- I don't care. I'M GOING TO PARIS!

Feeling so positive today, hopefully I can keep it up!
Not heard from the eating disorder clinic yet, don't even think I need it anymore, I can do this alone.

Confused

I spoke to my boyfriend of a year, Jack, about everything properly for the first time today.
He obviously knew what was going on, he came with me to the doctors appointment I was forced to go to by the nurses at the hospital who threatened to have me admitted against my will if I didn't go, and we've talked about it before. But we've never properly spoke about it in so much detail before.

I started right from the very beginning- I was just a 15 year old self conscious kid who thought she was fat and had mummy issues, who one day turned to comfort eating.
I ate a lot that day, I remember every biscuit, every piece of chocolate, every bite of every cheese sandwich. I knew I was being stupid, but something clicked in my head halfway through that if it went in, it could come out, so I carried on until I actually had a weird excitement about finishing and giving purging a go.
It wasn't as easy as I thought; it hurt, it came out my nose, I stunk.
It wasn't bad enough to put me off though, I just vowed to get better at it.
I remember googling it and coming across a 'pro-ana' website. I had absolutely no idea what it meant, I had never known anyone with any sort of eating disorder and I guess I was too naive to think what I found wasn't normal. Girls giving each other tips on how to purge, how to not eat, how to get away with it. 
My fifteen year old self thought she had just hit the jackpot and immediately thrived to be like the girls posting on the site, they were so strong, they had the self control to stop themselves from eating and more importantly, they were thin.
Soon enough I promised the girls on the website that I wouldn't binge anymore, I would simply purge any meal or snack I had to eat. They assured me this would be better as it would eliminate unnecessary calories I would have been getting before. 
I made friends with one girl, Hannah, who I am still friends with now, that was a similar build to me. We would come up with diet plans, sticking to 200 calories some days, 600 the next, and eventually fasting, weighing ourselves incessantly and comparing our results. It would kill me if her weight was less than mine, and although we sugar coated it as 'helping each other', we were always competing.
I'm not stupid, I'm not passing the blame of my 'problem' to them, it was completely my fault and if I hadn't had the encouragement from them I would have learnt these things myself anyway, but looking back now I was catapulted into a world of unhealthy competitions and guided towards a world of starvation and obsession.
Eventually I was testing myself, seeing how long I could last without eating before my excuses ran out.
"I've already eaten"
"I feel sick"
"I'm doing my homework I'll have it later"
"Can I eat it upstairs?"
The longest I can remember fasting for was 8 days, after that my mum was away and my stepdad thought he'd rent a film and made fajitas to eat while watching it. My conscience wouldn't let me tell him to watch it himself.

Jack's reaction to all this was "wasn't it hard not to eat?"
Not at all. At first it was a struggle, but eventually the feeling of being empty, and knowing that you were doing it, you were winning, was what I imagine a druggies 'high' to feel like.
It eventually became more difficult to get out of meals, and that's when my trusty purging returned.
I'd have to hide containers of sick around my room and wait until the coast was clear one night before getting rid of them all.

Sooner or later I decided enough was enough, I had proved to myself I was strong, I could do it, so now I could stop. And I did get better for a while, until I went for a final bridesmaid dress fitting for my dads wedding and they couldn't do the zip up. I have never felt so worthless and disgusting as I did that day.

I honestly didn't think I had a problem.
I wasn't like all those other girls online, they were so thin and strong, I was fat and weak.
Saying it all out loud to Jack today, and even typing it now makes me realise just how unhealthy it was, maybe I did have a problem.
Maybe I still do, I don't know.

It's been three days since I last made myself sick.
I thought it would be easy, I controlled it not the other way around, but today I had to fight the urge so hard I was in tears and now I'm not so sure.
Jack says I have an unrealistic image of myself and that I'm beautiful. This is all I have ever wanted to hear so why is it still not enough? What am I fighting for?
I spoke to Hannah today too, she told me to lie to the eating disorder people and that since I'm 20 there is nothing they can do, I need to carry on with this and I can't give up.
I really don't want her to beat me, if I quit the game then I have lost. But if I don't quit the game I have still lost, I will lose everything else, including Jack.
I didn't think things would be this hard.

The secret's out

So, after hiding it for what seems like a lifetime, my dirty little secret has finally been discovered.
Its kind of my fault, maybe I shouldn't have given up the game so easy when I collapsed and was taken to hospital but according to the doctors, the fact that I did means I 'finally wanted help', whatever 'help' actually is. He shouldn't have even told my dad, I'm an adult- what ever happened to doctor/patient confidentiality?

So here is my blog- the life of a recovering bulimic. If that's what they want to call me.

I've always had an issue with the way I look and with food, I even have a memory of when I was 7 years old and I tried making myself sick for the first time. I wasn't very good at it, but I turned around afterwards to find my mum standing behind me holding my then baby brother and I was terrified. She never said a word and never has, I wonder if she even remembers, but I didn't try it again. Until I was 15 that is.
All I can remember from that time is that my stepdad's business had just crashed, we'd had to up and leave our big, beautiful, dream house with a toy room in the converted loft, huge bedrooms and a conservatory running the entire length of the house, to play families in the less appealing, cramped, mid terrace house in the middle of a less friendly area.
The move didn't bother me at all, but it did my mum.
Her drinking got worse, much worse and her and my stepdads fights progressed with it.
I suppose this is the kind of thing they're going to blame my 'problem' on, but in all honesty I was glad they had their own issues, it meant I could sort out my own- my hideous, disgusting body.
I don't know where the idea to stick my fingers down my throat (or purge, a much nicer word I'm sure the doctors are going to use until they go blue in the face) came from. It just made sense; food goes in, food comes out, no fat gained.
Sadly it doesn't necessarily work like that.
I was binging on biscuits, crisps, sweets, chocolate, anything I could before running upstairs and getting rid of it. Sometimes during the manic eating episodes I would eat something colourful first, say cheesy Doritos, so I'd know when my sick turned orange I was okay to stop, I'd got it all up.
Sooner or later I was making a stop to the bathroom after every meal, every snack, every bite of food. At one point I remember someone was in the bath and I was desperate to get rid of it, so as we had a separate shower, I dived in and did my business there.
After that day I hid a stash of carrier bags down the side of my bed for future crisis times.
It was all a bit sad I guess.
I've never cut myself, I'm not brave enough for that, I'd do it the easy way; burning myself with my hair straighteners. I have multiple scars down my wrists from pressing the hot blades against my skin when I was angry, or upset, or just wanted a reminder of how fat and ugly I was. I moved on to the tops of my thighs, then mum found a page of my diary when I was 18 that mentioned it and it was no more burning and straight onto the citalopram for me, never to be mentioned again (unless mum was drunk and wanted to pick on me for the millionth time- 'oh what you gonna do, burn yourself? I might be a shit mum but at least I don't BURN MYSELF').
Dad never knew anything, until he got the call on Sunday night to tell him an ambulance had been called and he should get there right away. I wish he still had no idea, at least then I could go for a pee without anyone having their ear pressed up against the door or demanding to see my plate before I scraped it in the bin after dinner.

I always hated myself. Still do.
There is not one single thing I like about myself, but according to my doctor there has to be, no-one hates every part of themselves. Maybe I'm an exception.
Maybe this eating disorder clinic will actually make me feel better about myself, or maybe it will be exactly what I expect- a heap of shit.
Guess I just have to wait for the letter with my appointment, until then it's bye bye privacy, hello 21 year old child.