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Dear Bul.

An open letter to Bulimia

Dear BUL.,

I’ve decided to call you that because you are just DROWNING in bullshit.

You act like my lover, but I’m not sure you love me at all. I think that you love to CONTROL me.

I am enamored with you because you can soothe me and keep me calm. You allow me to take the big, scary feelings that cloud me like a Dementor and contain them in a safe little room. You let me take those feelings and focus them; expel them, so I don’t actually have to feel them.

You make me feel safe and less alone, like I can be all by myself and with a best friend at the very same time. You make me feel powerful, and strong. You make me feel like I am DOING something productive; something in my best interest.

But that’s all just an illusion -- a big distraction -- isn’t it? You are like that lacrosse guy in college, who made me feel cared for once in a while, here and there. He was a mistake, like you.

You are not a loving lover. Mostly, you are bad. (And I treasure you for that. It’s so easy to love bad things.) Well I THINK that you are bad, anyway; that’s what people tell me.

I mean, sure you represent opportunities, but you are also an opportunist, aren’t you? You see a weakness -- a feeling that I can’t stand to face -- and you lunge like a snake at me, deep in my throat, as though aggression is the best answer to my fear.

But what a bizarre and destructive way to react to a scary feeling! Why do you play so rough? Answering fear with aggression; it’s just misguided. You are the product of bad lessons learned.

True friends and lovers do whatever’s in the best interest of their friends and lovers. I know you are trying to help me. But self-destructive acts like you are an abusive means towards finding peace. At the end of the day, you hurt me.

The right thing is NOT to answer my fear with vicious action. You should answer it with calm and tender compassion. Why can’t you show me TENDER love? That’s all I have ever wanted. Love that makes me feel valued, safe, and whole. How do I enact that love?

You hurt my body and you hurt my promise. I will never self-actualize with you in my life. You waste my time, money, mental energy, effort, and bodily integrity, not to mention PERFECTLY GOOD ice cream with sprinkles. I mean, what is wrong with you. You are just rude.

So do you love me? Or do you not?

Yes I love you. I might ALWAYS love you, I suppose. I am grateful for you, it’s true. But you are a slippery slope. You scare me.

And BTW, I don’t think I need your help to be strong, after all. I am strong even WHEN I am feeling bad.

I am the strongest of all by just SITTING THERE!! Feeling my horrible feelings!

Strength doesn’t always equal action.

YOU make me be weak. I make me be strong. I can CHOOSE to be strong. I DO choose to be strong. I can and will choose to be strong, over and over again. I WILL! (I think I will.)

And if I want to be BAD, I can sit with my BAD feelings and FEEL them and then I’ll be the biggest badass of all. If I want to self-destruct then I’ll let the feelings do the hurting for me. NOT you. SO THERE!

I can find calm, peace, privacy, and contentedness with art, running, meditation, naps, baths, journaling, music, podcasts, tears. I can optimize my body with proper food choices and exercise and I can reclaim my power by just SITTING there and by using my mother. fucking. words. Putting the ugly truth out there is an act of power, my friend.

For YEARS, I bowed down to you, literally, because I thought nobody cared. I thought that when nobody cared, YOU cared. But I don’t think you care.

I need lovers and best friends who treat me right. Who bring me up and widen my shoulder blades. NOT a lover who makes me cower in front of that white porcelain bowl.

You were okay, for then.

But THIS, you jerk, is now.

I don’t want to see you anymore.

I don’t have TIME for you anymore.

Except for maybe once in a while.

Just maybe on the Super Bowl or something.

Anyways, fuck you. I love you. Thank you. For all of the calm and peace you have brought into my life over the years. I am grateful for the peace you brought me. I HAVE to move on without you though, so that I can learn to locate my strength inside of me. And KEEP it there. I want to live. I HAVE to live. I am stronger than you now. (I AM!) You jerk.

Your friend, your lover,

Thank you, I will miss you,

You disgust me,


**Note: I have been QUITE solid since the writing of this letter. Also, I survived the Super Bowl.


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