The Binge ...

The decorative biscuit tin has been sitting there on the side all week. Calling to me, drawing my attention to it. Even when I'm not looking at it, I can feel its presence; I know it's there. And I know it's full of those delicious cookies that I just love.

I've resisted it all week. After they were bought for me, by a well-meaning friend; they'd be horrified if they knew the conflicting emotions that tin of biscuits has instilled in me. I knew I should have given them away, or even binned them, but I couldn't. I couldn't bear the thought of those biscuits going in the bin, or of not getting to taste them.

I've resisted it all week. Until now ...

"I'll just have one," I tell myself knowing that I can't do that. Knowing that I'm just fooling myself ... but ignoring that sensible voice.

I open the tin and, holding the lid in one hand, I allow my gaze to wander over all of biscuits displayed there. Feeling my gaze caressing the crunchy sweetness of each individual temptation. I feel my heart rate increase slightly, my breathing becomes quicker and shallower as the anticipatory excitement and anxiety slowly begin to ignite.  My hand hovers over the selection. I'm only going to have one so I need to ensure I make the right choice. Knowing that if I regret my decision, I'll have to have another.

"Will I have the chocolate chip cookie? The chocolate covered one? Dark chocolate? Milk chocolate? White chocolate? The vanilla cream? The chocolate cream?"

Too many to choose from. And each has its own attraction. "I so don't want to get this wrong."

I finally decide on the chocolate cream. The combination of crunchy biscuit and rich soft filling areappealing to my eyes, my brain and the taste buds on my tongue.

"Crunch" as my teeth break through the biscuit. Crumbs crumbling around my lips.

"Mmm, delicious, " as the chocolate cream caresses my tongue. I try to savour each mouthful, knowing I'm allowing myself only one ...

But even as I know this, that other voice, the devilish voice at the back of my head, is telling me; "Go on, have another one. You know you want to experience the rich dark chocolate. You can stop after that one."

And this is where that infernal inner argument starts; "Am I strong enough to fight it today?"

And even as I ask myself that, or because I ask myself that, I know I'm going to succumb. I know I'm going to give in. I'm half heartedly fighting it, but the thought of more of those biscuits, those different textures, tastes, coverings and fillings is too tempting.

"I knew I shouldn't have had that first biscuit. That's where it all went wrong."

My heart is racing faster as the excitement builds, still quelled at this stage by my sensible inner voice; "One biscuit is fine. Just stop now. You don't need to have another one."

But my hand reaches into the tin again and I know my sensible inner voice has been drowned out ...again. I already feel angry with myself, but the enticement of more of those biscuits is too great to ignore. And anyway, I can get rid of them afterwards. It's easier to make myself sick with an overfull stomach than after just one or two biscuits ...

I eat that second biscuit … one this time covered in chocolate.

My heart is racing, excited, fearful, anticipation.

I’m still eating that second biscuit, but I’m already thinking about the next one … a vanilla cream … and the next one … covered in dark chocolate … and the next one … and the next one .. and the next one . the next one next one next one next one …

All sensible thought had left me.  I’m eating faster and faster, trying to savour the taste, yet simultaneously, not tasting the taste.  Just eat them.  Now I’ve given myself permission; just eat them.  Eat as many as I can.  It’s okay now I’ve started … I might as well keep going until they’re finished.  It’s okay, I can get rid of them afterwards …

Keep eating them; tasting them, whilst not tasting them.  Savouring them, whilst not savouring them. Eat them, eat them … the sense of freedom and liberation … eat them, eat them all ……

And that’s exactly what I do.  I eat them all.

And suddenly, the tin is empty…

Regret.  Disgust.  Horror.

I have to get rid of them now.  I can’t let them all stay inside of me.  I’ll have a drink of water … it’ll mix with the biscuits and make them easier to bring back up …

Fear.  Terror.  Dread.

I don’t want to do this.  I don’t want to make myself sick.  I’m terrified of the damage it might cause me … I’m well aware of the health risks.  I know I’m putting my life at risk every time I make myself sick…

But I have to do it.  I can’t let them stay inside me …  

Into the bathroom.  Head over the toilet.  Hair tied back. Two fingers down my throat …

Relief, release …

Remembering; and hopefully still understandinging ... to everyone who finds themselves caught in this painful, frightening, liberating, disgusting, terrifying, disempowering, empowering cycle …