it’s been
quite a while
since i jammed
my fingers
down my throat,
nails scraping soft
tender tissues,
ripping them
into ragged
ribbons of
agony and sweet relief.
i really
don’t know
why i did that
all those years.
i cannot even
find the impulse,
the compulsion
to expiate myself
and purge me
of that void.
but now
i think
we live
in times
of cultural
bulimia
and we
binge on self
purge in guilt
bathe in shame
call it freedom.
someday
we’ll live
a life of
being not doing
or consuming
and our throats
will heal
and our song
will be sung
pure
and
unashamed.
Charissa's Grace Notes 
Lots of power and truth behind this. Great analogy, my friend. xo
I can’t believe I even wrote this.
It was almost 5 decades I was bulimic…I started when I was in my 6th year after a particular hell…and even as an adult, knowing what bulimia was? I was in complete denial that I had it, thought it was just acid reflux or an upset tummy or whatever.
My poor, dear sister was bulimic for 20 years – I can’t imagine being so for 50. I’m so proud of both of you for your resilience and strength. She was finally able to have a baby (at the age of 44) after suffering through. She’s a Cancer, too…go figure 🙂
Ohhhh the poor brave soul!
Like you, she is rising. All because of her relationship with Mama.