Road to Recovery: Needs a Stop at Dunkin’

“Again,” are the words echoing into my ear as I loom over the toilet seat.

I look down into the toilet bowl, horrified by my discovery, the gross, amorphous blob of leftovers that lay floating on the water.

The voice grows louder as it repeats, “Again. Again! AGAIN!!”

The voice continuously shouts at me to throw up again. It was the price, after all, the price of eating let alone enjoying my food. Today, I had three meals. However, it was three meals too many. My dark hair cascades past my ears as I stare aimlessly at the toilet, and it gets in the way, which is frustrating because I do not want vomit in my hair. My disgust, however, would not deter me from this bad behavior. My knees left the floor as I rummaged through the drawers looking for a hair tie, pondering how I ended up like this.

At last, I found a hair tie. As I lower myself onto the floor again, my hair immediately goes into a low ponytail. The constant droning of the washing machine put me into a trance, and I zoned off, questioning all the events that led up to this moment.

Before I knew it, I was in the car driving to school. It was a monotonous morning; the highway’s constant droning made me want to crawl back into my bed again. My eyelids started drooping as I felt my tiredness consume me.

I quickly snap out of it as my dad aggressively waves his hands in my face and asks,” Hellooo, can I have my bagel?”

Back to reality, my eyes widen and I quickly search through the bag looking for his bagel. Panic washes over my face because I do not remember grabbing the white Dunkin’ bag that sat in my lap. Most of this morning felt hazy, as the last couple of hours slipped my mind. At last, I found the bagel, and a wave of relief washed over me as I found the missing bagel.

“Oh, yeah,” I say with a sigh of relief, “Here you go.”

I swiftly hand over the bagel and scan for my breakfast sandwich. I start eating as I proceed with my usual routine like nothing is wrong.

I state,” The hashbrowns are super good today! This is the first time in a while. I think I would give it a solid 9.”

I pass over the hashbrowns, and I begin enjoying my breakfast sandwich, I sporadically look over to see his reaction. He nods in agreement with my assessment, he continues to eat the hashbrowns as he gets back on the highway. I quickly scarf down my sandwich as I felt ravenous that morning.

“Don’t forget that we have dinner reservations at Wander,” My dad reminds me.

I nod and exclaim,” I am so excited to try their fall menu! Hopefully, it was as good as their summer menu!!”

He lets out a hearty chuckle, a laugh only a dad could make.

“I am glad you are as much of a foodie as I am!” He expresses.

I smile because food is what connects us. We would bond over any kind of food, no matter the price tag. Since my parents are divorced, food was what we could talk about even when we were not together. Soon, I stare off into space preparing for the rest of the day. The monotonous humming of the engine gets me again as it brings back the sleepiness I was feeling earlier. My eyes start to close as I let my tiredness engulf me.

BEEP! BEEP! The beeping was the washing machine’s method of alerting everyone it was done. I am brought back to my face looming over the toilet bowl. I feel different this time because I do not feel pushed to continue. The odd voice did not manifest this time in any way, shape, or form. The image of the gross vomit roams in my head, but it has not deterred me in the past. I question the newfound queasiness, unsure of how to proceed. A yawn unexpectedly leaves my mouth as I rub my eyes a little. My phone jumps out at me as I question what time it is, my phone attracts my attention. 10:30, the lock screen of my phone reads. I felt tired. My bed calls me, louder than the penance I thought I needed to pay. Soon, I find myself in bed with the lights off, the sleepiness fully consuming me.

The day ended abruptly as I had fully intended to continue my habit indefinitely. It is still, to this day, beyond me why the urge to go to bed consumed the voice of penance. I had no explicit urge to stop myself from continuing the bad habit I created, however, it was a random Tuesday when I quit. I got help, by force, from a teacher. He persuaded me to confide in my therapist, a secret I thought I would take to my grave. For the best of course, as talking about my disorder made it less powerful, it had less control over me. The hands that had blinded me for years soon were ripped off my face, and I could finally see the sun again. It felt warm and free. Free from guilt and disgust of eating.

Featured Image: “Sunoco/Dunkin’ Donuts, Alpena” by wachovia_138 is licensed under CC BY 2.0.