Atypically Recovering: On My Own No Matter How This Goes

Tag: laxative abuse

  • February Update 2026: Working on Moving Forward

    February Update 2026: Working on Moving Forward

    Photo- mine.

    I’m still a long way from where I was in 2021 when this current relapse started, but without the external pressure and ex therapist’s general absence most of the time, at least I don’t feel like I have to follow her orthorexic food rules that go against any of the more recent views on eating disorder recovery. ANY restriction is discouraged, no matter the person’s weight. I’m struggling to get back to my ‘normal’ eating which was still restricting, but different. I was used to one meal spread across the day, and I know that can’t work if I want to prevent going backwards re: my body healing from decades of depletion. Five years is the longest ‘overt restriction relapse’ I’ve ever had – while under the ‘care’ of someone who claims to be the last hope for eating disorders.
    https://tabithafarrar.com/2018/06/unrestricted-eating/

    Restriction is also felt to be the biggest reason people binge- regardless of the type of eating disorder diagnosed. I know a lot of heavy people who eat far less than others- and I have been in that group much of my life. The body is designed to survive, so if it feels it’s not getting enough, it triggers the body to eat to get its needs met. And the BMI chart was never meant for general use- it was designed by a Belgian astronomer in 1832, with no scientific vetting, even for the times. It is pointless- it’s like telling a poodle to look like a chihuahua… stupid. Every BODY is different, and has different needs.
    https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC10693914/

    https://www.therapeuticcounseling.org/post/breaking-the-binge-restrict-cycle

    I’ve been fortunate that regular bingeing left me when I left the U of IL in 1982 – where I’d pick cheese from pizza boxes in the trash room on the dorm floor, after the other floor mates were asleep. That was the end of weekend bingeing, that included cheese, ice cream, chips, dip, chocolate, and the occasional bit of ramen. During the week, I ate 1/2 potato or 1 apple per day, and took 40 laxatives PER DAY, 10 at breakfast, lunch, dinner, and bedtime- without eating. I drank Diet Rite by the 2 liter bottles- and labeled mine for the big fridge in the floor study room with “herpes”, to keep people out of it (I didn’t have it, but nobody bothered my soda !!).

    I also ran the 11 flights of stairs to the top of Trelease Hall where my room was-1224 was my room. It’s no wonder I passed out in the dietician’s office just before Christmas break when I was asking how to survive the month away from school at fast food places where my folks would be stopping. I wouldn’t be where my “habits” were unrestricted or even seen most of the time. My folks never bothered to think someone could eat too little, so that helped, but the bathroom access for my laxative consumption was nerve wracking. I was thankful for young sphincters, and timing any laxatives taken between known meal stops.

    As far as eating goes now, I still have to pay attention to “numbers” for insulin doses and making sure I don’t have too much protein. I don’t really limit what I eat, but I’m still glued to the total numbers each day, and have a very hard time eating enough per the ‘final’ calorie goal (my former dietician gave me the ‘end goal’ for calories; protein won’t change, and carbs are only restricted by the amount of insulin I’m prescribed). With drinking again, this has caused some issues with feeling really full, so I’m eating more calorically dense stuff to avoid coming in too low on food intake or feeling too full.

    I guess I’m getting closer to the “normal” restriction I’ve always done- which isn’t great, but at least I’m not bogged down by food rules that I don’t agree with, or told to eat stuff I don’t normally eat (I do keep kefir around for fast protein- but it’s not a daily thing). I tend to eat fairly dull stuff in general, but like to try new things (couple of bites). I’m eating more than one meal per day, and it’s not terribly comfortable. But I’m still eating without having a therapist lurking around (which she kind of wasn’t for a big chunk of the last 6 months I was still a patient, and prior to that, there had been the gradual breadcrumbing discussed in other posts). She hasn’t known what I was eating for years, so her ‘supervision’ was not good- and I knew it. I did eat what I said I did IF she asked, but mostly, I was invisible.

    I’m glad I got the NG out (again). I kept it in for 3 days while I started drinking %100 by mouth, to help relieve some pressure to do it all at once, but I don’t mind drinking non-caloric fluids. The ones with calories take up insulin, and I only get so much per month, but I will drink a bit of soda with real sugar (high fructose corn syrup is bad for gout and triglycerides) if my stomach is upset or I have a headache- but just a few sips.

    It was a colossal failure to want help from her, and even more that I didn’t read the stuff written about her in greater detail before signing on. I really liked her as a person for a lot of the time with her- but being blown off over a 2nd colonoscopy prep that was too much to handle physically, when she said she’d discuss some possible options, was the last straw. I felt more worthless by her refusal to help with something that could eventually kill me. She would deny that, but words are cheap when actions scream. She has given various odd medical accounts for her absence- but then flies to see patients in other European countries, has patients living with her, and could send photos of London, but couldn’t pick up the phone. I will never understand that kind of callous disregard for someone she supposedly “love like a daughter”. Gads, I hope not. I will also never understand needing a different name in Europe.

  • Anorexia and Campus Life

    Anorexia and Campus Life

    Photo- mine.

    Being a freshman at a good state university was overwhelming, and made so much worse by my deteriorating physical and mental health.
    I was also a fairly good student back in my high school, with many college prep and advanced placement classes that I was used to, so the classes weren’t too advanced when I got to college. I loved walking around campus, even though I was getting weaker and much sicker. But I was glad for the experience of dorm life.

    I was taking 40 laxatives/day (10 for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and before bed). I knew every bathroom in any building I had to walk into. Diet soda was my main source of fluids. During the week, I didn’t eat more than an apple or 1/2 of a baked potato when I had to make an appearance at meals. I ran the 12 flights up to my dorm room after ‘dinner’ (I could get by not eating breakfast or lunch because of everyone’s different class schedules). I had PE at 8 a.m. several mornings a week, and it was a ‘self-study’ exercise plan, so I jogged to attendance, and then back to the dorm for a shower. At the end of the semester, I ran 2 1/4 miles in 12 minutes- and I’m not sure how I actually did it physically.

    My roommate moved out because I was too quiet. I also didn’t sleep much, and would watch one star go across the sky outside of my window, while listening to mellow music on the radio.

    I saw the therapist every week, and I’m not sure that poor woman ever heard me say more than “I don’t know” to every question, and I wasn’t trying to be a smart ass- I was truly baffled by what I was supposed to be telling her. I had to drop my class hours down to 12 (dad was not happy- he was paying for 4 years, not some marathon of classes for more than that) because I just couldn’t keep up. I ended up on academic probation because of being so weak, and struggling with cognitive function. But I couldn’t see the physical changes. I still felt too fat.

    On weekends, I’d binge. It was typical to have a pint of ice cream, a bag of chips, chip dip, cheese, cookies, chocolate, ramen, and sometimes picking the cheese off of discarded pizza boxes in the trash room after everybody was in their room for the night (usually around 2 a.m.), to avoid getting caught. My diet soda was a lifeline, and I didn’t want anyone taking it, so I labeled it with “herpes” in the floor fridge that held 2 liter bottles. I could only fit 16 oz bottles in the dorm fridge. Nobody touched it. It wasn’t true about the herpes, but I always had my soda.

    My mom arranged for the food service folks to make me a birthday cake big enough for the entire dorm floor (80 girls? Guys had the adjacent tower). The cake was HUGE. I was terrified. It also angered me, which was a really crappy response to my mom wanting to make sure I had a cake for my birthday.

    My ability to concentrate on homework was shot. I got a D in history (hated history back then), and for the first time in my life, I was not doing well academically. I passed out regularly, and was carried down the stairs to the floor with the elevator (and stretcher) more than a few times. It always made me cringe to have one guy pick me up- I thought it would take at least 2-3 firemen to carry my perceived fat ass. But looking back at old photos I was too thin for my body type. I asked a dorm neighbor if the leotard and sweatpants I was going to wear to go skating made me look fat. Her answer ” I can count your ribs”.

    I became very depressed by the effects of starvation, and spent a lot of time in weird places- the top of the stairs that led to the roof (nothing else was up there, so seemed like a good place to hide), or I didn’t leave my room for anything but classes- nothing social. I was sexually abused in the dorm lobby while others watched, by a guy who was determined to go out with me. His approach sucked (it wasn’t ‘major’ but made an impact). I had to meet with the resident director every week as well, so she could keep track of where I was on the roller coaster of chaos. By the break for Winter/Christmas, I was making plans to end my life. I’ve never had that kind of depression unless malnutrition and starvation were involved.

    I lasted for that first semester (not sure how), with many trips to the health center, dietitians, therapist, MDs, etc… the second semester was a short one.

    More on that next time.

  • How I Got To This Point Part 2: The Summer of Anorexia

    How I Got To This Point Part 2: The Summer of Anorexia

    Photo- El Arroyo in Austin, TX online photo

    The summer before I started at the University of Illinois, I was working my second summer at a church camp I’d gone to as a kid for 7 summers (week long sessions). I loved that camp, and still consider it to be one of the most important spiritual factors in my life. Being outside and with nature is one of the biggest ways I relate to God. People lived what they believed, and it was fun.

    I worked in the nature center the year before, as well as that fateful summer. The snakes, turtles, lizards, ferret, and raccoons were my responsibility. I was very self-conscious about my weight (as usual), and decided to use the increased activity at camp, along with calorie counting to get rid of what the ‘numbers’ said were wrong. I also felt I’d be largely unsupervised, which was important. That was back when women were supposed to be 100 pounds for 5 feet tall, and 5 pounds for every inch over 5 feet. That put me at about 135, which is NOT a weight where I look or feel healthy. I do not have a petite bone structure. I was also a figure skater for years prior to then, and my thighs were rock hard muscles.

    I started off that summer by bringing my scale, calorie books, ‘expanding’ tablets to increase the feeling of fullness, and absolutely no common sense. Getting rid of the weight was THE most important thing for me to accomplish before having to compare myself to a university full of students. I wasn’t fat. I did have weight to lose, but I went off the rails. The diagnostic criteria for anorexia nervosa was different then. It counted the % of weight from the starting weight as the weight ‘rule’. I didn’t know that when I started out, but found out later (another future post). I lost a total of 1/4 of me in about 2 months. Now, it would be atypical anorexia. Face it- starvation is starvation no matter the size of the person.

    What I hadn’t expected was an 88-pound anorexic with bulimic tendencies to be assigned to the same set of cabins I was, and became my guide to self-destruction. We became friends very quickly, and she taught me about laxatives for purging, the importance of exercising like a maniac, and how to avoid eating and nosey (concerned) coworkers. I woke up the first morning that we had campers (there was a week for staff only to get the ‘ins and outs’ of camp life before the kids arrived on Sunday). I ran down to the barn and back (2 mile round trip), and had an apple for breakfast. I felt great. I also was drinking about 6 cans of Tab per day (precursor to Diet Coke).

    I lost 17 pounds the first week, and one of the counselors who went on “adventure camping” weeks (biking, river rafting, etc) didn’t recognize me when she got back the following Saturday. When people from the church I attended back then came to drop off their kids for a week long camp session, my mom would send ‘care baskets’ with body wash, quarters for laundry, and with the weight loss, a pair of rainbow suspenders to keep my jeans up (rainbow suspenders were a ‘thing’ with no other meaning than Mork wore them on “Mork and Mindy”). I didn’t feel any different, but got a ‘high’ from seeing the numbers drop on the scale.

    The head honchos at the camp (direct supervisor, camp nurse, and main boss over the campus) knew something was wrong fairly quickly. They threatened to keep my paycheck unless I ate, but legally couldn’t do that. Over the next 4 weeks I lost another 23 pounds, and the nurse from the year before was in the area, and the camp folks sent me off with her on nights off, to talk some sense into me. She tried hard. But I was already hooked.

    My folks came up to visit me (first time they’d done that, so I’m not sure if they were notified of the weight loss), and actually talked to me more than when I’d been heavier. Coincidence? Maybe- but for weight obsessed parents, I found it disappointing that I was ‘worth more’ if I weighed less. That was a big reinforcement of the determination to drop weight. And aside from the suspenders, they didn’t mention my rapid weight loss.

    Over that summer, I lost 45 pounds altogether, and just had a couple of weeks at home before heading to the University of Illinois in Urbana-Champaign. A third of my hair had fallen out, I was freezing all of the time, I’d turn blue, and other students on the dorm floor knew something wasn’t right. When they caught me after I’d gone to the water fountain to fill my water mug, I was in a light winter coat, jeans, and 6 pairs of socks in very humid central Illinois, in late August. My feet felt cold through the socks. They called the resident advisor (more senior student for one dorm floor, for those not in the US), who called the resident director (over the whole girls side of the dorm), and they shipped me off by ambulance for a night in the university health center hospital. I had to talk to a psychiatrist in the morning. I thought they were nuts. I wasn’t thin enough yet. But, the psychiatrist disagreed, and the diagnosis of anorexia nervosa was given. In order to stay in school, and not have to tell my parents I was in trouble, I agreed to the therapist. I saw her for the entire semester, and early part of the next one.

    More on the University of Illinois “routine” with how anorexia impacted me in another post.