I felt a little queasy after dinner Sunday night but didn't make too much of it until I woke up at 2 am desperately needing to throw up violently.
It was awful and sickening and painful and terrible. All I wanted was it for it too end, please, please, please.
It occurred to me that for most of my life, i CHOSE to throw up in and throughout the day. AND i even got some perverse pleasure from it -- i felt i was regurgitating all my problems AND all the calories i'd binged in right before the purge. I'd come out lighter, i thought, emotionally and physically.
It hard to imagine voluntarily doing what i went thru Sunday night.