I meant what I said

This past Christmas, I gave a gift to the Christ-child. I told him I would stop abusing my body.  Specifically in the form of making myself throw-up.  I have been bulimic off and on, if that is even possible, since I was 15.  Since I couldn’t take the sexual abuse anymore.  It has continued to some degree for the past 36 years.  If I am upset with myself, I’ll make myself throw-up.  If I am angry, I will make myself throw-up to punish myself.  If I am hurt, I will figure out a way to blame myself and throw-up.  If I over-eat, I will be made at myself and make myself throw-up.

But my gift to Jesus on his birthday this year was to STOP.

No more.

Done.

And the way I need to accomplish this is by digging new grooves in my brain.  Digging new thought patterns and filling in the old grooves so I stop defaulting to that thinking.

I over ate tonight by 88 calories.  I am so mad at myself.  But I am not going to do it.  I am not going to make myself throw-up.

Happy Birthday Jesus.

 

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