I don’t know what my lowest of low moments was. There were a lot of lows in my 25 years with bulimia, not surprisingly. As I’ve gained some distance from active purging, I can more objectively see how sad and desperate those moments were—the spiraling hysteria of bingeing and purging. Was my lowest point vomitingContinue reading “Admissions”


I realize my progress in tiny moments which are really pretty big, for me. Saturday night, we hosted about 20 of my colleagues for an outdoor, distanced backyard get-together around one of our fire pits. We had a huge spread of cheese and crackers (my ultimate weakness) and made s’mores around the fire (chocolate–my otherContinue reading “Progress”


I feel stuck in an awful yo-yo swinging between feeling all liberated/empowered/I-don’t-care-what-you-think-about-my-body… and then realizing I really do care, and feeling sadness, frustration, anger, and guilt over the small amount of weight I put on in the other phase. I know that this stems from my black-and-white thinking, the idea that I’m swinging between theContinue reading “Yo-yo”


My therapist suggested something I hadn’t considered: my children are now my mother’s purpose in life, and as such, they will be the ones to change her, if it is ever to happen. Nothing that I have ever done has elicited change in her behavior or character; but, every time she leaves our house sheContinue reading “Mom VIII”