Bulimia Quotes

Quotes tagged as "bulimia" Showing 1-30 of 77
“I didn't realize there was a ranking." I said. "Sadie frowned. "What do you mean?" "A ranking," I said. "You know, what's crazier than what." "Oh, sure there is," Sadie said. She sat back in her chair. "First you have your generic depressives. They're a dime a dozen and usually pretty boring. Then you've got the bulimics and the anorexics. They're slightly more interesting, although usually they're just girls with nothing better to do. Then you start getting into the good stuff: the arsonists, the schizophrenics, the manic-depressives. You can never quite tell what those will do. And then you've got the junkies. They're completely tragic, because chances are they're just going to go right back on the stuff when they're out of here." "So junkies are at the top of the crazy chain," I said. Sadie shook her head. "Uh-uh," she said. "Suicides are." I looked at her. "Why?" "Anyone can be crazy," she answered. "That's usually just because there's something screwed up in your wiring, you know? But suicide is a whole different thing. I mean, how much do you have to hate yourself to want to just wipe yourself out?”
Michael Thomas Ford

Marya Hornbacher
“Nothing in the world scares me as much as bulimia. It was true then and it is true now. But at some point, the body will essentially eat of its own accord in order to save itself. Mine began to do that. The passivity with which I speak here is intentional. It feels very much as if you are possessed, as if you have no will of your own but are in constant battle with your body, and you are losing. It wants to live. You want to die. You cannot both have your way. And so bulimia creeps into the rift between you and your body and you go out of your mind with fear. Starvation is incredibly frightening when it finally sets in with a vengeance. And when it does,you are surprised. You hadn't meant this. You say: Wait, not this. And then it sucks you under and you drown.”
Marya Hornbacher, Wasted: A Memoir of Anorexia and Bulimia

Marya Hornbacher
“I have a remarkable ability to delete all better judgement from my brain when I get my head set on something. I have no sense of moderation, no sense of caution. I have no sense pretty much.”
Marya Hornbacher, Wasted: A Memoir of Anorexia and Bulimia

“The barriers we face in life are so often the ones we create in our minds. As a child I couldn’t open that wooden gate because my body prevented me from doing so. As a teenager it seemed I couldn’t open that door because my mind held me hostage. The world that waited beyond it now was no longer one of safety or escape. Instead, I knew every time that I opened that door, it would be to a life of psychological insecurity and emotional entrapment. She - that cerebral leech who clung to all my thoughts - convinced me of this fact. Only with her could I find and maintain an asylum of mental armour”
Leanne Waters, My Secret Life

Sarah Darer Littman
“So there you have it--my sorry tale. That's how something I though I controlled ended up controlling me.”
Sarah Darer Littman, Purge

“My body had never felt so small or so fragile. In one sense, it was a moment of ecstasy and I was comforted with soft, almost compassionate, encouragement.

"Delicate," she said. The word imprinted on me like the cold before it. I was weak and going numb, but I was delicate. This is what I had wanted. I wanted to lose weight and retain some ounce of delicacy to resemble that of the spider-figured women I had seen in all those flashing images. Suddenly, the lack of strength displayed by my body was counterbalanced with a surging lease of mental satisfaction and might. As I lay in bed, buried under all my layers of clothes and bed sheets, the warmth still could not reach me. It was too late for that now and I didn’t care. I just wanted to sleep, basking in my success and enduring the cold until I could finally slip into a forgetful slumber.”
Leanne Waters, My Secret Life

“You see, a binge is almost always inevitable when one goes withut eating for such a long period of time. It doesn't just satisfy the physical hunger that becomes you; it nourishes the psychological need to escape from your own controlling mind. In this way, the binge presents itself as the ultimate loss of control.”
Leanne Waters, My Secret Life

“Przeszłość jest moją wielką blizną, którą pielęgnuję. Myślę, że moja bulimia to nie są zaburzenia odżywiania. Jestem pogodzona z moją bulimią. Wierzę, że kiedy zwymiotuję już całą przeszłość, ona po prostu się skończy.”
Dominika Dymińska, Mięso

“Na środkowym palcu prawej ręki zawsze noszę pierścionek. Od kilku lat. Kiedy nie czuję na tym palcu ciężaru, czuję jego brak. Zanim zacznę rzygać, zdejmuję pierścionek i zakładam go na środkowy palec lewej ręki. Żeby go nie ubrudzić. Ten pierścionek to jedyne piękno, o jakie wtedy dbam. Kiedyś zmieniałam miejsce pierścionka na chwilę, zanim zaczęłam wkładać palce do gardła. Teraz robię to już kiedy zaczynam jeść. Gdyby ktoś o tym wiedział, mógłby się zorientować, co to znaczy, kiedy podczas posiłku przekładam pierścionek na lewą dłoń. Kiedy kończę rzygać, najpierw wycieram twarz i płuczę usta. Później zacieram ślady i dokładnie myję ręce. Na koniec zakładam pierścionek z powrotem na środkowy palec prawej ręki. Wszystko wraca na swoje miejsce.”
Dominika Dymińska, Mięso

“Mirror, Mirror on the wall,
who's the skinniest of them all?"
"Not you, Amir, not you.”
Insha Juneja, Imperfect Mortals : A Collection of Short Stories

“I looked at my reflection in the glass door at the entrance of the house. For the millionth time, I saw something entirely different from what I desperately wished to see. But to be fair, what I wished to see was a replica of the skeletons I had come to worship. I often wondered as to why my eyes couldn't see what the world around me could. Why did my eyes see differently than others?”
Insha Juneja, Imperfect Mortals : A Collection of Short Stories

“Every day, I saw this new distorted reflection of myself, and everyday, I despised it a little more than the day before. It was uncanny and delusional, my reflection, and I felt this urge to change everything about myself. 'What is happening to me', was a question that remained unanswered for a great amount of time because I was as unaware about it as every other person around me.”
Insha Juneja, Imperfect Mortals : A Collection of Short Stories

“Days and weeks passed by with changes in seasons and the phases of the moon. But the one thing that remained unmoved and constant was something I told myself every single day, "Amira Kashyap, you are fat!”
Insha Juneja, Imperfect Mortals : A Collection of Short Stories

“Whenever I looked at myself in the mirror, I always saw a morbidly obese reflection, while in truth I was achingly underweight. My obsession of looking good corresponded to wanting to look the way skinny models looked in television ads and fashion magazines, the personification of being attractive as described by the world around me.”
Insha Juneja, Imperfect Mortals : A Collection of Short Stories

“As it turned out, an apple a day did not keep the doctor away, especially if that happened to be the only thing I ate for an entire day.”
Insha Juneja, Imperfect Mortals : A Collection of Short Stories

“So Amira Kashyap, what’s your story?” he asked as he set the big display stopwatch to a designated period of 59 minutes and 59 seconds.
The perfectly tranquil way in which he asked me the question made me slightly nervous, even though I had spent the last few years of my life having imaginary conversations with an imaginary therapist. There were a lot of things I wished to tell him. From wanting to tell him about my first triggers to the very thought of me standing in front of a mirror haunting the living daylights out of me.These were just a couple out of the many thoughts in the archives of my brain. However, my mind went completely blank.
I stammered and hesitated and managed to utter a total of seven words.“I don’t know where to start.”
“Just say the first thing that crosses your mind,” he said.
“I’m scared of food,” I blurted.”
Insha Juneja, Imperfect Mortals : A Collection of Short Stories

“But although my body constantly reminded me that it was starving, the voices inside my mind never gave me permission to satisfy my hunger. At times, I would get affected when people passed statements like, “Why can’t you just eat?”
However, I convinced myself that the only person who could understand anorexia was someone who had been through the eating disorder. I chose to remain quiet.”
Insha Juneja, Imperfect Mortals : A Collection of Short Stories

“My life was now determined by the number on the scale or the digits behind food containers. But I was completely okay with it as long as my 24” waist size never felt even a tad tighter. But if it ever did, hell would freeze over, resulting in 21-day fasts until I felt thin enough.”
Insha Juneja, Imperfect Mortals : A Collection of Short Stories

“Soon, everyone around me had come to terms with my peculiar eating habits and started accepting me for who I was. It felt peculiar at first, but when someone said things like, “I wish I could resist eating all that,” in whatever parallel universe I existed, I felt powerful.”
Insha Juneja, Imperfect Mortals : A Collection of Short Stories

“My days began and ended with my fear of food. Even though all that was left of me was skin and bones, the only thing I could think was, Still not thin enough!”
Insha Juneja, Imperfect Mortals : A Collection of Short Stories

“He helped me sit up on my bed and tried to force-feed me glucose dissolved in water and a biscuit he’d grabbed from my roommate’s bedside. But I spat it right out, still thinking about calories and numbers.
“That’s enough, Amira. I’m literally trying to feed you water. It’s not going to hurt you!” he screamed.”
Insha Juneja, Imperfect Mortals : A Collection of Short Stories

“That was when I realized I had no control over my actions anymore. All I knew was that though no one knew what hell felt like, my life had become a version of fire and brimstone. My restrictive anorexia was completely and inexorably interfering with my ability to live like a normal human being.”
Insha Juneja, Imperfect Mortals : A Collection of Short Stories

“I remembered all those times when the people around me believed that I had spent the last two years of my life faking an eating disorder for the sole purpose of attention. For that reason, every day I would read a thousand articles and watch a hundred videos on real survivors who’d battled anorexia. Then I would question myself. My ribs aren’t popping out of my stomach, so maybe it’s actually just in my mind. Then after a few days of surviving on nothing at all, I would look at myself, see my ribs popping out and ask myself, Am I now?”
Insha Juneja, Imperfect Mortals : A Collection of Short Stories

“The better question is: Do you want to recover?”
I didn’t have an answer; I wasn’t sure. Recovery sounded great on paper and in the calm and casual way he said it. But why did the very thought of recovery seem like the most excruciating and difficult thing? What if I started hating myself after a few months of making conscious efforts to be a healthy person again? What if recovery meant being fat all over again? What if I wasn’t ready?
“I’m not sure,” I said.”
Insha Juneja, Imperfect Mortals : A Collection of Short Stories

“I asked myself this question every single day: Is it possible to break free? To break free from myself?
It wasn’t by choice that I became this awfully unhappy. Something, I don’t know what, came upon me and my happiness was snatched away from me in a jiffy. Everything started to feel different. Something didn’t feel right when I woke up every morning and went to bed every night. Something didn’t feel right when I looked at myself in the mirror every 15minutes.Something didn’t feel right when my favourite doughnut became my worst enemy. Something didn’t feel right when all my mind was surrounded by was the pathetic, established standards of bikini bodies and skinny models.”
Insha Juneja

“It was haunting to be entangled in this obnoxious cycle. I want to get out of this viciousness. That pizza is staring at me. I think that slice of pie might hurt me. Thirty-five calories for an Oreo cookie; 75caloriesfor a slice of bread; 285 for a slice of pizza; 350for a plate of pasta. You know, maybe I’ll just study the digits of eggs, wheat, vegetables, apples, oranges. Ugh! Stop. It all hurts so much. That’s it. Make it stop. Please, I beg you. Just make it stop.
I felt like the walking and living encyclopedia of numbers and digits.”
Insha Juneja, Imperfect Mortals : A Collection of Short Stories

“It wasn’t like I had started magically eating two entire meals in a day. I would still survive the day with black coffee and apples, but it just seemed like I’d taken one step heavenwards. The mirror felt a little less frightening with each passing day. It was refreshing to talk to someone who was fully convinced that my eating disorder was as real as I thought.”
Insha Juneja, Imperfect Mortals : A Collection of Short Stories

“Everything was going perfectly well until Dr. Roy paused for a long minute to stare at me with utter shock and revelation.
I knew I had messed up. I should have just worn my black, full-sleeved dress instead. But again, I thought that the scars had lightened to an unnoticeable extent. But I guess I was wrong. That was when I realized that scars never went away entirely.
“Did you do that to yourself?” he asked.”
Insha Juneja, Imperfect Mortals : A Collection of Short Stories

“The scars of my anorexia, perfectly hand-drawn in red, immaculately colouring one-fourth of my left arm. It had hurt like hell, but it still wasn’t as painful as the last two years of my life. The mental, excruciating pain within the depths of my brain had managed to surpass the aching pain of the pointed edge of the object I’d used on my arm. I’d thought that overshadowing the pain I already felt with a much harsher form and intensity would make the emotional pain disappear.
I was wrong. The latter pain always remains stronger; that is something I realized.”
Insha Juneja, Imperfect Mortals : A Collection of Short Stories

“I wanted to be normal again. I wanted to be genuinely happy again and not just pretend. I didn’t want distorted mirror images to destroy and define my life any longer. I wished to breathe in the customary air, instead of the suffocating one people like me had accustomed themselves to breathe. I just wanted to break through these metal rods that I’d been caged behind for the last two years of my life. I wanted to feel plain, simple, genuine contentment again. I wanted to; I needed to.”
Insha Juneja, Imperfect Mortals : A Collection of Short Stories

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