When I Get Up Off The Floor

By , Marysville, CA
It was like living in the checkered black and white tiles of a salon. All my life I’ve been living in this large happy white square and then in a moment of single words I find myself lost in the intimidating darkness of a black square. It was true about what people said, life can change in a moment and I wasn’t ready for it.
The first time I puked I ran to the bathroom. I had never felt so confused and sick. Dinner of fettuccini wasn’t helping the cause. As I stared down at the bowl I said to myself, “what the heck?” I stuck the toothbrush down my throat and within a second of sour taste and lung wrenching gags I found the problems spilling out like little pictures of life. I could see them floating above the wetness and the smell. It felt as if a weight of was lifted and I could breath. Before I had never liked puking, I used to cry and pray that my food wouldn’t come up, and when it did, I found myself sobbing and sobbing. But now it was like a surreal moment of happiness, well at least for the most part of course. I washed my hands off looked in the mirror and sighed. It was strange how a disgusting thing could be an epiphany for someone like me. It ever crossed my mind that I was bulimic at the time and frankly, I still don’t. Bulimics hate food and themselves. I at least love my food but just hate myself. But the doctors don’t have words for people like me, so they just classify me as bulimic. In big, fat, square letters I see the words “Bulimia Nervosa.”
I never wanted my life to be this way, but when the bad stuff piles up, its up to the person to find a way to make it go away. Some people take a stroll through the park or eat junk food; but then there are the people like me who take it to the extreme. I tell myself everyday I will stop but then again my mother says everyday she will stop drinking. I want to make myself better, stronger and more stable and to be able to say, “I can do this.” Or “ I am powerful.” So when my parents came to my room on April 4th 2009 to tell me I was being sent to a mental health facility for teens, I wasn’t fighting the idea. I know it’s gonna sound weird to my friends that don’t know about this, but in the end I guess I gotta to what I gotta to do. So as I am on way to the “facility” I tell myself it’s for me to gain the ability to get up off the floor and continue on walking.





Join the Discussion

This article has 1 comment. Post your own now!

SecretSasha said...
Dec. 11, 2010 at 2:02 pm
I like your story. But most bulimics love/hate food. So when the character says they love food and that their different, it's not true. At least that's what I think. Anyway good story! I could totally relate.
 
bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback