The Perspective For the Goshen College Advocate That Was Never Sent
Two months ago I made the very difficult decision to leave Goshen College. Halfway through my third year, the idea of stopping when I was so close to finishing was quite absurd. However, I boldly brought my academic life and personal relationships to an adrupt hault, rounded up the appropriate signatures across campus, and headed home to Illinois, where my fat cat awaited my company.
For the past 60 days, I have had no greater responsibility on my agenda than merely brushing my teeth or checking the mailbox....Or so I like to say. In actuality, I was tackling one of the many difficult issues in my life that at long last needed my complete and total attention.
I suppose for the most part, my uncharacteristic departure was surrounded in a cloud of mystery, and at this point, while I can, I’d like to dispell all rumors of pregancy or fatal diseases. In some ways, sharing my perspective of either of the latter seems much easier or admirable than the one I am about to share. Regardless, this is something I need to do. This is the perspective of your peer--a twenty year old, middle class, caucasian female with an eating disorder. So take a moment to understand the world I have been living in....
It’s four o'clock and my stomach is growling obnoxiously at me for withholding food all day. I grudgingly decide to fill it, reminding myself it’s better to show up at the cafeteria and have dinner with everyone else than for someone to notice that I never do. I walk slowly across campus to the cafeteria, consumed in my thoughts which generally are along the lines of, “just eat something and don’t think about it, and as soon as you can get away, you can barf it back up and won’t have to worry about it.”
I stand at the hot food bar, contemplating which selection will be the easiest to vomit. Spaghetti and meatballs nor pot roast sound appealing, so I go to the cereal bar instead. At my table, everyone is talking about going out later tonight to Steak n Shake, and I try to sound enthusiastic, but all the while I’m annoyed because it seems like any social activity has to revolve around food. Having finished my bagel and bowl of cereal, I nibble at some fruit or crackers so that I’m not blatently finished so long before everyone else. As we sit and talk, I already feel sick from the small amount of food I’ve had. My stomach feels enormous and heavy, and I get anxious to leave, start fidgeting, and can’t follow the conversation.
At last, I excuse myself and leave, walking quickly back across campus to my dorm. There, I slip into a stall in the bathroom and bring up that bagel and all else I had within seconds. My eyes water as my body lurches over the toilet, and for a fleeting second I consider the ramifications of my actions; the deterioration of the lining in my esophogus and throat, or the erosion of my tooth enamel. I even remember reading about cases where self-induced vomitting was instantaneously deadly--when the victim’s electrolytes became dangerously unbalanced. Thoughts continue flashing, of cancer or bony and lifeless young women on talk shows who wind up in a coma weeks later. Suddenly my thoughts are interrupted by the sound of someone walking in and I sit in a fretful silence wondering if they heard me.
Relief passes over me as they leave, and I flush the toilet and grab a piece of toilet paper to wipe my eyes with. As I wash my hands in the sink, I look at the mirror and see new red spots around my eyes where blood vessels popped. I feel a sense of satisfaction at my self-destruction, and a momentary high of control over at least one aspect of my life. The fact that I am one day closer to a bit of weight loss also runs thorugh my mind as well....
I rinse my face off and go to my room, where I try to study and get some work done. However, I start to feel very faint so I lay down. I don’t wake for hours, and then my stomach is growling again. I try to work again but it’s too distracting, so I throw on my coat and go for a walk or drive, visit someone, or call someone to keep my mind off of my stomach. Later, I am unable to fall asleep until early in the morning, when the sun starts to creep over the buildings and cover campus. I’m sound asleep when my alarm goes off, and I finally scramble out of bed long after classes have started. I leave campus over the lunch hour to study and eat my next-to-nothing lunch by myself, but then I lose track of time. I consider making a run for it, and struggle with deciding whether or not to be late to class because I feel awful and need to throw up, or just walk past the bathroom on my way out and arrive on time. I almost always end up late to class, and during class I say something ignorant or ask a silly question because I missed the early part of the lesson, and I just end up feeling mortified and incapable of doing anything right. I decide to throw up again after class as a form of punishment because I am absolutely impossibly hard on myself.
There is no end. The cylce repeats itself, again and again, day after day, until I feel so hollow and lifeless nothing intrigues me or excites me and classes become nothing but a bother. I begin having nervous breakdowns over meetings or project assignments. I hardly sleep and I don’t see anyone between work or school because I am too tired. Soon I’ve lost weight and have dark circles under my eyes, but I smile and act my best around people. I try to feel good aobut my weightloss, but I only feel tired, lonely, and sad. This perpetuates my need to vomit as a way of releasing these deep emotions inside of me. Soon I realize it is all futile, the mentality where each pound I lose and every moment of self-punishment is never enough and I pick up smoking to try and stop vomiting, but it only lasts a day or two, and then I’m stuck with two addictions that seem like a sure-fire one-way ticket to throat cancer. I wonder, Is this life? Is this living? The answer is a resounding “no."
For the past three years at GC, there has been growth emotionally and spiritually and intellectually for me that has allowed me to at last stop, reflect, and rest now. When the world would rather grind me through my education and cookie cut me into life and spit me out, I have to say NO. I have to refuse, and make my own path, at my own pace. I have to focus on being authentic and whole, taking my time between points A and B, even if that is unconventional. That is life for me...When I take time to notice everything and live in the moment, enabling myself to be okay with who I am and what I am doing at that time. It enables me to love myself and love what I am doing. And that is living.
