Behind the Smile

There’s a picture of me from my sophomore year in college. I’m not sure of the exact date but I know it’s before January 2003. I’m smiling. It’s real. I look so happy. I can think back to that time and remember that I wasn’t actually all that happy. But life was good. I had body image issues. I had problems with my self-esteem. I had problems with my parents but they were better…about to get worse. I don’t think I’m actually pretending in the picture. I don’t think I thought to myself, “oh dear” I’ve put on this suit and now I’ve gotta play this pretend game and look happy. Maybe it’s the lighting but I’m glowing even. It’s a real smile that’s for sure. Because my fake one is so insanely obvious that it’s ridiculous and looks painful. And I had problems with food because I’ve always had problems with food. But this is right before I made the transition from compulsive overeater and occasional binger to bulimic.

And since that time I’ve studied abroad. I’ve fallen in love. Lived a wonderful life in college that I truly appreciate. I’ve graduated…Had a pretty awesome career doing community development work for the Hurricane Katrina affected regions…and made it through the first half of law school. Celebrated new years eve in NYC for three years in a row, vacationed in the DR, South Beach, Laguna Beach (so lame I know) Just the major milestones and a few fun things I’ve been blessed to experience. And there have been pictures to capture all those moments. There’s something in my eyes…something behind my smile, even when it wasn’t fake, that screams, "Something is wrong. Help me."

In a perfect world, I'd take this picture down because 1. It's a picture of me and 2. This is my room. But there’d surely be a family argument to ensue if I changed anything around in MY room. I want it out because it’s a constant reminder of how even when my life wasn’t perfect and yeah I cared that it wasn’t perfect, that I was still loving life. I’d still seen a LOT of pain when that picture was taken…but no one could ever tell. It hadn't gotten the best of me yet. I can look at that picture now and see how pretty I was. Of how beautiful I was. And I didn’t know it then. Seeing as how I wrote that in the past tense, it’s apparent I still don’t know it. I was so insecure then: overweight, acne, dealing with the lack of boys in my sophomore year when everyone else was hooking up and enjoying school and I was just doing my school work. But the joy I’m radiating in this picture is amazing. I can't believe I hadn’t let all that shit steal my joy.

Now if I smile I feel fake. I hardly ever smile in pictures because I refuse to be that unreal. I’m not happy. Why pretend. It does nothing but anger me at what has happened to me. And yeah, a lot of shit has happened since I took that picture which could explain why I’ve lost that spark. Why now I can’t even fake it. But there’s one thing that instantly comes to mind.

Binging & purging. Or just purging anything. I guess I got to a point where I wanted it all out and it didn’t matter what came out along with it. If I could go back to January 2003 and tell myself that it’s not worth it. That I’ve seen what lies ahead and that dropping 8 sizes and 65 pounds in 7 months will not be enough. It won’t keep that smile on my face. I guess that’s hard to believe even now because I sometimes... scratch that, I always think if I can just get back to that point and SEE it and appreciate it then I can still smile like that.

But bulimia doesn’t work like that. Bulimia doesn’t ever let you see that you’ve lost weight, only that you’ve stayed the same or gained. (Even if the scale and the clothes say otherwise) And so bulimia says you have to keep restricting and binging and purging. It’s the only way to get to happiness. When you start you think you’re only doing this until you get down to size whatever or 100 lbs or until you’re 21 or to whenever. And then you'll stop.

The next thing you know you’re 24, you’re an adult and when you started you were just a kid. And you actually acknowledge that bulimia will not take you to happiness but it’s not something that can easily be stopped. Five years of binging and purging after a lifetime of loneliness and tears and pain and rejection and blame and frustrations have easily cleared the path for you to end up with a forever mentality of having an eating disorder. Because when I was 19 I said that I’d stop because I’d just know when to stop. Because I wasn’t sick then. I was just being stupid. Foolish. And then I said I’d stop when I went to France. And then when I got back from France I was still doing it. Then I said I couldn’t possibly be bulimic at 21. Then I turned 22. And then I thought, I couldn’t be a college graduate and still binging and purging. And then I was purging at my job months after my college graduation. And then my social drinking which was already a tad bit out of control turned into drinking before, during, and after work because I was miserable and drinking made it better. Purging didn’t. So yeah I took a little break. And then I went to law school…and bulimics don’t go to law school. Ha. Well…I am in law school and I am bulimic so I guess I just told myself a bunch of things I thought were true. Bulimia has also turned me into a liar.

I decided to get help because for the first time in 5 years I wasn’t telling myself I’d stop when this happened or that happened or when I turned this age. I mean I’d love to not be bulimic at 25. But I’m not even lying to myself anymore. I’m accepting this reality. And I cannot accept this. It’s unacceptable. I need to at least get back to the point where I’m using my age as a marker for when to stop, or career goals, or something. But waking up and not even thinking about when this madness will end means I’ve more or less resigned myself to the fact that I will always struggle with this. Well I’d like to take that resignation back. There’s still hope and I'm finding that fueling that hope and trying to be recovered is more difficult than law school. And I honestly didn't think anything could be worst than being a 1L. I guess maybe residency. :) It’s more difficult than that semester abroad when I took physiological psychology in French. It’s more difficult than seeing that final grade on my transcript.

It’s more difficult than actually being bulimic. But if I have the opportunity to smile again in pictures. In life and really be ok, it would be worth it. To live with being imperfect and hate it but still enjoy living…then I need to keep the picture up and take a copy of it to hang up in my apartment.