Masters in Hiding

Mastering the art of hiding is one of the skills a bulimic hones. As the bulimic moves on in years, this “mastery” becomes more refined. Over time, the signs that may reveal the eating disorder are known all too well, so the bulimic learns ways to make sure that they are not apparent in his/her life.

To the average person, this would be called “deceit”, and there is validity to this perception. But for a bulimic, it is a way of life to protect themselves from being “found out” and the embarrassment, particularly if one has been struggling for years, of having to admit that something has to be done to stop the deceit. The primary reason for this is that the bulimic is not only deceiving others, but more importantly they are deceiving themselves.

Along with deceiving themselves, they are putting so much at risk. The ability to live a “normal” life, to stop the isolation, the lost time, and the exersion of unhealthy ways on the body.

It’s time to come out of the hiding. It’s time to open up and find the freedom you deserve. It’s time to break loose from the chains that deny you a full and happy life.

A bulimic may master the art of hiding the signs of their bulimia so others will not “see” the real anxiety that lurks in the background, but they can never hide it from themselves.

Reach out. There is support. No matter what age you are. There may be a misconception that the longer you have struggled, the harder it is to recover, but this is a fallicy. It can be done. The key is to seek the support and assistance to accelerate the journey towards recovery.

Overwhelm Versus Recovery

If someone is struggling with recovery from bulimia, overwhelm can be one of the top triggers. With overwhelm comes the constant stress and mental turmoil of getting everything done.

Quite often a bulimic is determined to meet everyone else’s expectations. When someone moves into midlife (40+) there are so many balls to juggle, from growing children, their educational needs, their parental guidance and support, be it getting them to sports, letting them take the car. Insurance, mortgage, bills, etc. Then for some there is the balancing as well with career, volunteering and keeping up with the home chores of cooking and cleaning.

So what happens? You look at your list, and become despondent and instead of completing “everything” you turn to a “break” and that break is the “binge and purge”, somehow seen as a reward, that is anything but.

The truth is, a time out for meditation, or reading, or writing, getting out for a walk or anything other to get your mind off the “food” is what “should” occur. However, by this time, our subconscious is trained and used to the alternative method. The BP method.

These are areas that can be overcome with help. Be it someone who can help you to adjust you schedule to be less overwhelming, to prioritize and set aside the time to ensure what it possible gets done, and what can wait, waits or someone to call on when it just becomes an unbearable “groundhog day” of the “have to dos” playing over and over again in your mind.

You deserve a break. But make it a healthy one.

Midlife Bulimia

Midlife Bulimia Recovery

Eating disorders are not just present in pre-teens and adolescence. Although it has been an issue for many years, the media began to publicize it more in the early 80’s, showing the rise in the number of women and men who acquired the disorder.

Although we would like to think that over time, with all the information and support groups available, that this disorder would have subsided, but in truth it continues to grow.

Midlife Bulimia Recovery

Keeping in mind that the “frenzy” of articles came out in the 80’s, this would reflect the number of women and men over 40 who are still battling with bulimia. This age group is often passed over and what is also ignored is the fact that at this age, unlike the younger age, they have honed their skills at hiding and creating a false front.

Many will not come out or seek help due to the embarrassment and shame of being over 40 and still struggling.

There is a great concern with this lack of reaching out, as bulimia affects the heart, and as one crosses over 40, there is a greater risk of having a heart attack. There are several other health and emotional issues that become an increased threat as the bulimic gets older.

It is for this reason that my coaching focusses on women and men (yes, the incidences in men is also increasing) over 40, although I do assist all ages. But to me, this is an issue that is often ignored and not given enough attention to.

Reach out to someone. If you are over 40, reach out. It’s never too late to find full recovery, but often it will come sooner and easier with help.

For more information contact confidential email at bulimiacoach@gmail.com

Sharing… From My Hampy… and I think you would relate!!

https://hampy.ca/introducing-myself-as-hampys-creator-on-video-totally-scary-lol/

Ready for a New Relationship For 2021?

I got it.  I realised that after taking a coaching course, and wondering how I could help people with eating disorders,  I got it.

So are you ready for 2021?  And creating a new relationship?  With food.

Yes… I mean that.  A new relationship with food, that will change your life and your relationship with YOU.  

If you are interested in finding a new way of looking at a relationship with food, contact me.  I can coach you through 12 weeks at 50% off , if you are one of the first 5 to sign up (that’s a $1200 value for only $600).  If you like my process, then there will be a fee of $300 per month there after, which will include, as per this first offer, 1 one on 1 session via skype or zoom to chat, 24/7 text – 24/7 scheduled meeting request (only because I do have to sleep).  This is ONLY for the first 5 to sign up.  Regular prices are $1200 for the 12 week program and $400/month for follow up sessions.

I am 100% engaged on teaching you how to have a new relationship with food and never diet again in you life.  Never throw up again.  Never starve again.

Contact me.  I know this.  It took me 30  years to figure it out.  IT IS DOABLE!!

Hugs,

LaurieAnn

What is Love? I want my Peter Pan :)

Terry, My best Friend

The most part of releasing yourself of the whole psychotic love issue is to meet someone real.  Someone who is not going to judge you.  Someone you can find that fits proper in your life.  Now this is intesting.

MY PETER PAN ME SYNDROME THAT I LOVE AFTER THE MONEY FOCUS MAN 🙂

Two years after leaving my ex I met a great man.  Toy man. Off Roading, camping, you name it.  Appeared to not care about money… in the “money  money grab way…” BUT… he liked money and I believe that when I left him with a plan to see if money wasn’t the issue ( I had quite a bit at the time) , even if I love his Peter Pan attitude, he left me when I lost my money for his rich ex-girfriend…. life was a perfect of me finding my true Peter Pan…. I thought… but he wasn’t my true Peter Pan.  Peter Pan doesn’t care about money that way…. and let me say… that way.  It’s not a true Peter Pan.  Peter Pan doesn’t care if you have money.

To make things clear.  I did marry my Knight in Shining Armour.  He made things right for my children with him…  but Not ever again my “Prince in Shining Armour”… Joke… Pewk… Doesn’t exist.  I will not elaborate… (but as said…did birth 3 perfect children for him… LOL)  Birth vessel commitment done… move on…

So to my two year man… he was my best friend… was not my Peter Pan… he was “Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater, Had a Girlfriend Couldn’t Keep Her, Kept her in Pumpkin Shell and There He Did Not Keep Her Well”.  Still best friend, but it was a crazy jealousy issue too.  Still care for him, always a best friend… but that psychotic love ended… and with him, my psychotic love ended and then I looked for my true Peter Pan.

Two years ago I found my perfect fit… I thought.  And was at the time.  He just wanted to be with me.  He would send me text messages that reminded me of when I was a kid when I had a guy friend.  It wasn’t sexual (well… not out of choice… not to be shared here).  It was just like “wanna play butter cup?”  I loved his texts asking me to come over…

I am an adult of 50 something and that was awesome.  I’m like a Peter Pan female version.  Truth be known, my TBear was the first time I felt comfortable in my “adulting NOT” life.  I know I have responsibilities to my children, and to my retirement funds not to have my children have to deal with that, and all the insurance that goes along with this. I pay into it. But TBear was awesome. I didn’t have to feel all that.  We just hung out. It was awesome…. and he reminded me of a memory… of…

I remember when… Best friend like the one across the street or two doors down that asked to come and play when you were 7 years old.  Made me forget I had to worry about anything.  Okay, that 7 year old best friend was the same friend that put me under the bus when he found a Playboy magazine and asked me to look at it with him.  Yes, we were 7 and I don’t know where he found it, but his mother found us!! And he said I found the magazine… I took the hit…

But.. back to my story of TBear. I lost him.  He kept telling me he was dying and I laughed and told him to stop saying that.  I taught him to dance, took him out to dinner (he was reclusive), he met my parents, my children, I met his daughters.  He was my best Peter Pan ever.  Never wanted to grow up, but life made him.  I guess more of the movie that Peter Pan grew up in “Hook”.

I relate to it.  He had 3 daughters.  I have 2 boys and a daughter.

And both of us were miffed by parenthood and adulting, although we did it. Not perfectly, but we tried our best.

TBear made my life real, in the fact that I realized that all parents question everything we do to our children, but then live this world, in a divorce scenario, that Disney is not real, so we go back to our Peter Pan world.  I’m so okay with that.

In Hook he did it….  God bless Robin Williams…. that movie is all about adults getting back to Peter Pan.   Love it…

I like my freedom to do what I want when I want.  I did my part of being a mother and taking care of all that and this.  But my children are self-sufficient now.  They can live with me, I am okay with that,  but MY life is now mine.

And so I met a new Peter Pan… and he is just awesomely great company.  And he was with lost boys the whole time!  Who knew that Peter Pan actually exists without the Hook version.  Just one thing… now that I found my exactly right Peter Pan…  honest… run away… come back… free… when he shows up he does… doesnt’… K cool 🙂

I’ll spend time with you when you want… I found him…  the REAL Peter Pan

So, I like my Peter Pan. 🙂

Simple…….

No Psychotic Love in this friendship… just understanding… and simple honesty and that simplicity could actually work in a relationship… but seriously?… the word “relationship” is too scary… friendship is nicer… and ever better …. Peter Panners…. no commitment…. but always friendship… love this this.

Hugs R… This is dedicated to you… and Tbear…. simple best across the street friends, like it used to be… 😉

Cricket….  my TBear called me that…No else knows this… but I think R will find out.

It’s about honesty, freedom, friendship, and simplicity and never FORGET… FUN!!! 🙂

.. Peter Pan.

 

Existing

It was interesting.  I recently decided to go through my letter box and photo albums.  Strangely enough there were letters I wrote and never sent.  One I found intriguing that I want to share.  The letter was this:

Relfection – upon life, the future, the past.  Time passing.  Struggling to make time a friend, to alter my perception of it as a foe – as a theif.  I fear it, creating perpetual thoughts of what was, wishing I could embrace that which was and return.  I long to be in that place where mother’s hand was smooth, where not yet had developed the creases in Dad’s forehead.  Time then had not yet sucked the moisture out of life.

I want to be a child held and loved.  When mother kissed a bruise and softly swept a tear away.  But in knowing this impossibility, I give my son what I long for.  I hold him close and caress his soft plump skin.  Embracing him is embracing life.  So close – yet I feel so far.  As though I do not exist – or should not exist – or should not exist in his life.

I sit and watch my husband and son and feel so removed from them.  This creates a sense of non-being.  I ache at this.  My heart feels torn – irreparable – until the small child reaches and asks for a hug.

Emotionally I consider myself the equivalent of yo-yo.  I fall and rise just as quickly.  My ability to deal with stress is quite pitiful.  I somehow transform into a self-destructive monster filled with inner turmoil.  This inner turmoil – like a hungry creature – eats at my insides.  To satisfy this hunger, I eat.  I try to fill the void – to feed the creature.  Then I purge my soul.

Oh, it didn’t start that way.  I started swallowing food at a very young age – to avoid humilitation caused by sitting at the kitchen table hours after everyone else had left… because I had to finish everything on my plate, but didn’t want to.  Sometimes I just fell asleep.

I don’t know how this would have ended back over 25 years ago when I wrote it, but it was telling for me today.  I am so blessed that I don’t feel any of that anymore.  That I hugged that baby who is now 28 just two days ago and didn’t feel apart, or that I did not exist.  I exist, and I love my life, and I hope that this will help anyone going through what I went through to know, you exist.  To more people than you know.

Existing

It was interesting.  I recently decided to go through my letter box and photo albums.  Strangely enough there were letters I wrote and never sent.  One I found intriguing that I want to share.  The letter was this:

Relfection – upon life, the future, the past.  Time passing.  Struggling to make time a friend, to alter my perception of it as a foe – as a theif.  I fear it, creating perpetual thoughts of what was, wishing I could embrace that which was and return.  I long to be in that place where mother’s hand was smooth, where not yet had developed the creases in Dad’s forehead.  Time then had not yet sucked the moisture out of life.

I want to be a child held and loved.  When mother kissed a bruise and softly swept a tear away.  But in knowing this impossibility, I give my son what I long for.  I hold him close and caress his soft plump skin.  Embracing him is embracing life.  So close – yet I feel so far.  As though I do not exist – or should not exist – or should not exist in his life.

I sit and watch my husband and son and feel so removed from them.  This creates a sense of non-being.  I ache at this.  My heart feels torn – irreparable – until the small child reaches and asks for a hug.

Emotionally I consider myself the equivalent of yo-yo.  I fall and rise just as quickly.  My ability to deal with stress is quite pitiful.  I somehow transform into a self-destructive monster filled with inner turmoil.  This inner turmoil – like a hungry creature – eats at my insides.  To satisfy this hunger, I eat.  I try to fill the void – to feed the creature.  Then I purge my soul.

Oh, it didn’t start that way.  I started swallowing food at a very young age – to avoid humilitation caused by sitting at the kitchen table hours after everyone else had left… because I had to finish everything on my plate, but didn’t want to.  Sometimes I just fell asleep.

I don’t know how this would have ended back over 25 years ago when I wrote it, but it was telling for me today.  I am so blessed that I don’t feel any of that anymore.  That I hugged that baby who is now 28 just two days ago and didn’t feel apart, or that I did not exist.  I exist, and I love my life, and I hope that this will help anyone going through what I went through to know, you exist.  To more people than you know.

 

Perfect Parent

I’ve had insightful weekend.  Much of which was spent being lazy and stupid by speaking to my family.  My adult family, may I clearly say.  This adult family I refer to as my parents or sisters.  Not my children.  Definitely not my ex.

I’ve managed, for most of the past few years, to get along with my mother.  My father is easy to get along with for the most part.  He doesn’t like conflict, even more so these days since his third stroke.  He’s still the dad I always knew, but a bit more fragile.

Mom, on the other hand, has always been difficult for me, and I expected, as such, that I would perceived the same with my children.  But there is a difference.

One:

I do not believe myself to have been a perfect mother, and I admit I was not and to my mistakes.

Two:

I could not be like my mother.  She called us hypocratical.  She is.  She still thinks she did the best she could and that we have nothing to complain about.  STOP… true.  But to be perfect means we would not have anything to complain about and every child, for the most part, has something to complain about … about their mother or their father…

What bothered me the most the other night while have a great conversation, but that went sour, was at the end of it my mother asked if I was drunk.  Question was because I called her on telling me I was a failure for not graduating from University with a career oriented degree.  I told I understood that.  She then denied she ever said it.  OK… I continued to say she did… and that DAD went upstairs to my room where I was crying and said she didn’t mean it in that way.  At that age “that way” doesn’t mean a thing.  I graduated.  With a BA.  In Art History and French Minor.  It wasn’t really where I wanted to be to begin with.  I wanted to go to a University to take Journalism.

I did end up with an Honours Journalism Diploma after my University, which I paid for with my own money.

All this was silly, but I just wish she would have admitted to remembering to say that.  Because it hurt.  So did mom and dad not showing up to my graduation.  But that then.

So I tried to explain this I understood why she said it because she wanted the best for me.  She would not listen to that… she only listened to the part that I told her she called me a failure.  SHE DID.  So just admit it.

But no.  She had to accuse me of being drunk.  I finally ended it with telling her I loved her and asked if she loved me?  She didn’t answer.  She hung up.  Nice.

I would never hang up on my children.. and if I did something they are hurting about, and I have, and they have told me… I apologize, and hope they will never duplicate my own failures as a mother… but they do know… biggest and far most… IF THEY ASK ME IF I LOVE THEM??? I would not hesitate to say YES… YES… I LOVE YOU TONS…

It ends a problem with a pillow that you can hold onto…. and know… parents and children will have their ins and outs… and that I likely said something to my children that hurt them… if they tell me?  I would say… I’m so sorry… and explain it if I can… or just be sorry if I can’t.  I like their honesty.  I like that they can talk to me.  Even if it hurts.  But we can’t learn to forgive ourselves for parental mistakes if we can listen to our children and say sorry, or as said explain… and resolve…. and let it go.

Perfect parent?… never… but we try… but we need to listen to our children when they become old enough to talk about their issues… listen, explain or apologize… it’s that simple.

 

Perfect Parent?

I’ve had insightful weekend.  Much of which was spent being lazy and stupid by speaking to my family.  My adult family, may I clearly say.  This adult family I refer to as my parents or sisters.  Not my children.  Definitely not my ex.

I’ve managed, for most of the past few years, to get along with my mother.  My father is easy to get along with for the most part.  He doesn’t like conflict, even more so these days since his third stroke.  He’s still the dad I always knew, but a bit more fragile.

Mom, on the other hand, has always been difficult for me, and I expected, as such, that I would perceived the same with my children.  But there is a difference.

One:

I do not believe myself to have been a perfect mother, and I admit I was not and to my mistakes.

Two:

I could not be like my mother.  She called us hypocratical.  She is.  She still thinks she did the best she could and that we have nothing to complain about.  STOP… true.  But to be perfect means we would not have anything to complain about and every child, for the most part, has something to complain about … about their mother or their father…

What bothered me the most the other night while have a great conversation, but that went sour, was at the end of it my mother asked if I was drunk.  Question was because I called her on telling me I was a failure for not graduating from University with a career oriented degree.  I told I understood that.  She then denied she ever said it.  OK… I continued to say she did… and that DAD went upstairs to my room where I was crying and said she didn’t mean it in that way.  At that age “that way” doesn’t mean a thing.  I graduated.  With a BA.  In Art History and French Minor.  It wasn’t really where I wanted to be to begin with.  I wanted to go to a University to take Journalism.

I did end up with an Honours Journalism Diploma after my University, which I paid for with my own money.

All this was silly, but I just wish she would have admitted to remembering to say that.  Because it hurt.  So did mom and dad not showing up to my graduation.  But that then.

So I tried to explain this I understood why she said it because she wanted the best for me.  She would not listen to that… she only listened to the part that I told her she called me a failure.  SHE DID.  So just admit it.

But no.  She had to accuse me of being drunk.  I finally ended it with telling her I loved her and asked if she loved me?  She didn’t answer.  She hung up.  Nice.

I would never hang up on my children.. and if I did something they are hurting about, and I have, and they have told me… I apologize, and hope they will never duplicate my own failures as a mother… but they do know… biggest and far most… IF THEY ASK ME IF I LOVE THEM??? I would not hesitate to say YES… YES… I LOVE YOU TONS…

It ends a problem with a pillow that you can hold onto…. and know… parents and children will have their ins and outs… and that I likely said something to my children that hurt them… if they tell me?  I would say… I’m so sorry… and explain it if I can… or just be sorry if I can’t.  I like their honesty.  I like that they can talk to me.  Even if it hurts.  But we can’t learn to forgive ourselves for parental mistakes if we can listen to our children and say sorry, or as said explain… and resolve…. and let it go.

Perfect parent?… never… but we try… but we need to listen to our children when they become old enough to talk about their issues… listen, explain or apologize… it’s that simple.