There’s a saying in the rooms of 12 step programs, “We’re only as sick as our secrets.” And it’s true. I experienced it myself, which drove my 40+ years of coping with secondhand drinking and my own experiences with anorexia and bulimia, and so have the thousands of people with whom I’ve worked or been in contact over this past eleven years.

It is a pleasure to share this guest post by Pearl, who writes under the pseudonym, The Secret Slayer, and shares her secrets and her bio here:

 

Sharing Secrets – Shattering the Shame by Pearl, The Secret Slayer

I come from a long line of overeaters. My grandmother is morbidly obese. Two of my four aunts and one of my cousins has had weight loss surgery. My mother struggled so hard to control her weight that she ended up addicted to “diet pills” in the 80’s. My childhood was cut short and I endured much trauma due to her addiction.

My earliest memory of overeating was Christmas dinner as a 4 year old. I ate candied yams until I vomited. I remember exactly where I was, standing at the side of the dinner table as my mom cleaned up the leftovers. I enjoyed the taste of the yams so much I couldn’t stop myself. I ate every last one even though my stomach was aching with the excess.

I don’t remember feeling shame that day but I do remember feeling shame every holiday after that when I did the same thing. I remember spending hours in the bathroom at an aunt’s house after Thanksgiving dinner when I was 8 years old. I ate so much my body was rejecting it all. I was not vomiting to control my weight. I was vomiting as my body could not handle the amount of food I was putting in it.

This continued throughout my childhood. I was one of those kids who always cleaned their plate and went back for not only seconds but thirds. I was bigger than the other kids and they were not afraid to remind me of it on a daily basis. Rarely a day passed that I didn’t hear vial comments such as “Oh be careful she might sit on you” or “Ohhh the Earth is shaking. Here she comes.” The world is not kind to fat people. Children are especially unkind to fat peers. I felt ugly and gross all the time.

Then something miraculous happened the summer after 5th grade. Boys started to find me attractive. I had thinned out with the onset of puberty and even the older boys were stopping me on the street to tell me how pretty I was. It was bizarre to say the least. But heck, now I understood what the hype about being skinny was! It was pretty darned awesome! And so started my trip through anorexia and bulimia. I needed to be thin at ALL costs.

For periods of my teen years I existed on 3 grams of fat a day or a strict 1200 calorie diet. I started working out every morning before school in the 7th grade and started using laxatives in the 9th. I would do whatever it took to be thin.

I struggled with food for all of my life but things really came to a head during my first year as a teacher. I was 27 when I started teaching special education in the inner city. It was stressful to say the least. I had no idea what I was doing and every day felt like a jail sentence. I started eating as a means of dealing with the stress. The sweets brought me pleasure and respite if only for a few minutes.

I noticed it was becoming a problem when I was making 3 trips a day to get a candy bar out of the vending machine. I was so embarrassed that my coworkers might take notice. I felt so worthless. I beat myself up over having no will power.

On top of my trips to the vending machine I also stopped at the ice cream shop every single day after work. It was my bar. I was their “Norm!” I left all of my troubles there in the bottom of a sundaec up. I cried and cried because I knew it was terrible but I couldn’t stop. I wanted Just One More. I would quit Tomorrow.

Then a curious thing happened. I started getting frequent painful sore throats. I went to the doctor a few times but I was not sick. I did not have strep. It took a few months before my doctor made the diagnosis. I had abrasions extending the length of my esophagus clear into my sinus cavity. The culprit, acid reflux. I was causing serious damage to myself with the constant bingeing. I am not exaggerating when I tell you I experienced the sensation of hunger twice in six months. I simply did not stop eating long enough.

I went on medication to help with the acid reflux and I signed up to attend intensive outpatient therapy for eating disorders. I remember sitting in the waiting room sobbing as I filled out the intake forms. I just didn’t want to have this problem. Therapy included 3 dinners and 9 hours a week with the group. The program was 6 weeks long. I was taught a lot about listening to my body. I was also encouraged to attend Overeaters Anonymous, which thankfully I did.

Overeaters Anonymous changed my life. The first meeting I attended was a well established one with plenty of old timers and lots of new comers. I felt so welcomed. I heard people tell stories like mine. I heard people talk about never being able to get enough and being so ashamed they wanted to die. I got that. I really did.

I also heard many people talking about food plans which consisted of no refined sugar. I thought “Well that’s not for me. What else do you have?” I was existing on mere sugar at that point. There was no part of me that thought I had the ability to give it up.

I found a sponsor who had what I wanted and I did what she told me. She told me to keep coming back. After 4 months of coming back I still didn’t have the sobriety I heard so many others speak of. I was feeling pretty crappy. After bingeing on sugar in the parking lot of a local drug store, defeated I called my sponsor and told her I was really doubting this program was going to work for me. I remember her words so clearly, “Don’t quit before the miracle happens.” I have no idea why it resonated with me at that time but it did. I put down the sugar that night. It was challenging but I did it, an hour at a time. A day was too much for me to consider in the beginning.

I was able to stay away from the sugar by attending meetings, making calls, reading literature and of course, giving service. The acid reflex disappeared and I began to heal physically, mentally, and spiritually.

I did relapse 3 years later upon leaving my marriage but through returning to the rooms I got clean again. That was over 3 years ago. Today I make recovery a big part of my life. I know that sugar affects my brain in a way that makes it impossible for me to enjoy it in moderation. I know that being addicted is not a matter of will power. I also know that I did not ask for this disease and so I will no longer feel shame about it.

I write in the hopes that you may heal. If you are suffering with any type of addiction, reach out. You are not alone. Together we can do what we could never do alone.

Love, Pearl