The Confession

Describing an Incident on Sunday, November 15, 2009

Standing in the pharmacy at Shoppers Drug Mart, I scan the shelves for salvation. Has it really come to this?

"Don't do it," a voice within me says quietly, yet firmly.

I know exactly what I'm looking for. The brand name, what the package looks like, the effect it's going to have. If I take this much before bed tonight, I know I'll wake up around 2 am with the sweats, shaking like a leaf and in a great deal of pain. I will lay down on the bathroom floor in a fetal position and try to breathe through it as my insides seize and convulse violently. This will last until I throw up, maybe an hour later, and even that won't bring enough relief to be able to fall back asleep. I will make my way back to bed and uneasily try to sleep as the pills wage a war on my insides. I'll have up to two days of terrible diarrhea. It will hurt tremendously. And then I can start fresh. It will feel as though this whole past week of binge-eating hasn't happened.

I spot the familiar package of pills. It would be so comforting to pick them up, take them home, and down them. All that guilt and anxiety I feel about how I've been eating this whole time my daughter's been sick, all of that can go away if I just take these damn pills. Isn't it worth it?

"It's not worth it," says the voice within me. "It'll only make things worse."

I know this to be true. Several years ago, I began an almost year-long binge-and-purge cycle after trying the Dr. Bernstein Diet, and in retrospect would have qualified as bulimic during that time. If I had simply quit the diet and gone back to some semblance of a normal, healthy, non-starvation diet, I would have been fine, but I just couldn't. I was so deprived, gray and sallow and unable to sleep while on that diet, that when I stopped the diet I began devouring any food my starving body could ingest. I ate "forbidden" foods, from carrots to candy, like I would die if I slowed down enough to savour it. Then the guilt would rise steadily, and I would feel anxious and fearful about putting weight back on and being fat again. So I would purge. This would make me feel better for a day or two, but then I would again feel deprived and begin obsessing about food, and I would binge again. This was the cycle that kick-started the exponential weight gain that led me to eventually become 100 lbs overweight. This is why I know - from experience - that purging is absolutely not the answer.

And yet, years after I stopped bingeing and purging regularly, anytime I overindulge or even go so far as to binge eat, the very first "solution" that pops into my head is to purge. The desire is always there to cleanse myself of my eating sins. Even though I know better, and even though it has probably been at least a couple years since I last purged, I still find myself drawn to it. It feels like the easy way out, the Get Out of Jail Free card when I feel overwhelmed by the guilt and shame of overeating. And this desire, this inexplicable draw, is what has led me here to the pharmacy at Shoppers Drug Mart, staring down my weapon of choice.

I'm frozen by indecision as a battle wages in my head. There is that voice that wants me to buy these pills, take them home, down them, and sit back and wait for the pain to start. There is that other voice, quieter but more resolute, insisting that this is not the right decision. I waver. I waffle. Something's going to have to happen soon.

"OK," says the quiet voice, resolutely. "You can buy the pills. ONLY if you blog about taking them. Oh yeah, and keep in mind - it might be kind of hard to bike-commute for a couple days."

Just as I reach for the pills I stop in my tracks, hand frozen in mid-air as it reaches towards the shelf. I'll have to blog about it. Everyone will know about my horrible secret. My clients with eating disorders will be able to read this. My Mom will read this. Worst of all, I won't be able to bike. Is it really worth all that? Just to feel like I can "start fresh"? I can start fresh anyway, starting right now. Just stop overeating - don't stop in the candy aisle on the way out, don't go to the Safeway across the parking lot to pick up those ridiculously awesome cupcakes, just go home. Start making better choices now. That's all you have to do. And the past week? It's in the past. Nothing you can do about it now. Just make better choices from now on.

I hurry out of Shoppers Drug Mart and head home, but not before eyeing that Safeway for a few minutes and thinking about those unbelievable cupcakes. When I arrive home, I see Mike the Bike set up on his A-frame fluid trainer just waiting for me to get on. I've already made two healthy choices today - not buying the pills and not buying the cupcakes. Since I'm on a roll, why not throw in a bit of exercise to boot?

I watch an episode of The Simpsons as I pedal away, feeling my arms and my core working in ways I've never noticed when bike-commuting. I still feel guilty about the week of poor eating I've had, but I realize it's not the end of the world. It wasn't even that bad, just worse than what I've been eating since I started bike-commuting. Now that I have the bike trainer for the weekends and I'm bike-commuting during the week, isn't there some room for some overindulgence now and again?

"Absolutely," says the inner voice proudly. "Consider yourself absolved."