Bulimia is an escape, one that helps you not hurt by eating up your emotions, then excreting them.  It’s like a ritual.  Eat the bad emotions, the ones that hurt you then throw them up.  Symbolic even.  When you retire your bulimia, or eating disorder, you have to face the facts.  You have to look at your life and ask “was I abused mentally, emotionally, physically?”  And then it hurts.  The truth hurts.  But you can’t tell the truth.  And if you do someone will tell, or even if you post it privately, someone will find it and then use it against you and then hurt again.  Time does not heal all, it just makes it easier to live with.  Retiring my bulimia was the hardest thing I ever did so far.  Maybe next one will be quitting smoking.  They say as a joke that smoking a slow death, but I’m not in a hurry to die.  I’m living again.  Just now with eyes open.  Sometimes it’s scary, oblique, twisted, uncompromising, shallow, deep, frightening, confusing, challenging, worthwhile, painful, careless, undisturbed, disturbed, miscommunication, sharp, edged, coloured, grey or black and white (but rarely).  Life is what it is.  Don’t lie to me.  My motto for the month.  But if you tell the truth do it in the right way.  Because words and life have a right way and wrong way.  I retired.  I want the right way.  The right way is easier and it’s freedom.

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