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How it feels to be trapped in a uncontrollable moment.

What's the thought process and the deep sub-conscious drive that continues self destructive behaviour. How an intelligent and beautiful human being can hate themselves so much that they intentionally sabotage and harm themselves.

Saturday afternoon; I am alone in the house with my little people. We're just lounging around, no one is feeling well and I don't have the energy to make up something fun outside the house. As we fend for ourselves, my boredom turns into hunger, cravings and desire. I have nothing but time while they sleep. I'm caught up on all my shows, I don't have a hobby, I am not tired enough for sleep, but I AM to tired to workout. I pace thinking about chocolate, sugar, salt and fat. I remember the cookie cupboard, recently replenished by a well intentioned Mother in Law. It has Oreo's and rainbow chocolate chip. I circle around and try to distract with carrot sticks, gum, juice and another litre of water, but now my entire thought is how to eat all of the Oreos unnoticed. Who to blame for the garbage and how to 'fix it' later. I am salivated thinking about it. I wander through the kitchen, slowing at the right cupboard. I listen for movement upstairs, but everyone is still asleep. I reach for the Oreos and slowly, meticulously, pull back the tab careful to silence any excess noise. I grab one, two, an entire row and I quickly shove them in my mouth before I get caught. They're saltier than I remember, less satisfying than I hoped, but I find myself reaching for more.

I have already ruined the day, failed at control, it's game time. I eat and eat, I can't stop, I don't taste. I am waiting for relief from my anxiety, comfort, but it doesn't come.

I leave the mutilated carcass and start imaging what else is available, what might hit the craving and leave me feeling full and relaxed. Bread? Cheese? Crackers? I try and correct the ever growing mistakes with an apple, a banana, more water. Nothing is working. I can't stop... stopping means letting the failure and discomfort set in.

I try to bargain... it wasn't so bad, I didn't have breakfast and I will skip dinner. I'll add a workout - heavy cardio should burn through the excess and fix this. How can I fix this?

While I am trying to properly place the guilt, I mindlessly eat Oreos and than panic at what to tell everyone when they reach of the empty bag --  the new bag of Oreos, out of reach of the kids, is gone. Maybe if I finish the entire bag I can replace it before anyone will notice.

I can't get out today, because I am alone with sleeping truth tellers -- they will confess to my mistake in a heart beat. I have to get away, but I can't I am trapped. I can't run, I can't fix it.

My heart races and I can feel a panic attack brewing. I don't know what to do, I regain composure, I am not watching from the outside, I feel more empty now, than when I started. I'm mad, embarrassed, sad.

I pace the house looking for relief. Running through the options, trying to tell myself, what's done is done, move on from it, but I can't. I am so angry, I am so bloated and uncomfortable. I know I will suffer for this for the next week trying to work it off, feel better. It will be in my past, but never far from my mind.

I have a small window to fix it. I could purge. I would purge if I knew the boys wouldn't wake up. I would purge if I didn't have to journal it or tell someone about it. I am annoyed with myself for sharing this with anyone. I had it under control, I would binge, purge and get on with my day. Now I have to hold it, feel it and live in it -- the guilt that I let everyone down. The shame that I can't get a handle on something so simple, why did I eat the fucking cookie?!??! One cookie and it's the end of any progress I made.

I have to start again and I don't have the energy.

I start to pace outside the bathroom, negotiating with myself - this will be the last time, its just to undo the damage. I don't have to tell anyone, the GI doctor said its very rare to see damage from an eating disorder... I probably don't have damage.

For a second relief flows over me -- this could all end right here, with the hand on the knob I think about all the times before, the comfort. In just a second it would all be over and erased from my head, not a second thought.

Just then the door opens and my husband is home. I freeze, my heart is racing, I am hoping he doesn't go for the cookies or see the mess in the kitchen. I pray he doesn't ask for a kiss with my oreo breath. I wonder if I could still sneak away, but he wants a hug. If he holds me too long the moment will pass... my window is shrinking. I start to panic, I can't undo. I feel frantic. It's all unraveling. My mind is racing with an escape, but I can't.

So I hug him, I melt into him and don't mention anything, but fear he can hear my body vibrating from the rush of the last 30 minutes.

I wish that was the end, the story ending in an embrace -- its not so simple.

We get on with our day, but I am preoccupied with my failure. Its like a glowing ember in my gut, I am angry, easily agitated. I feel like a tiger in a cage, pacing the same ground. I need to yell, but I have to be quiet, I need to run, but I have no where to go. I am short with my family and add that to my list of embarrassing traits. I can't sit still, I can't lay... it just repeats in my head 'failure, failure, failure'. I hate being this Mum, I hate being this consumed. I hate being. I can't think of anything else, I can't even force a smile, the annoyance of being stuck with my decision. I am lashing out and feeling everything deeper.

Finally my husband is available for my boys and tells me to go, take a minute and just go. I do. I don't have anywhere to go or anyone to call. I drive with the music up, I end up at the mall. I miss my family already, I feel exposed away from them. I still feel heavy and anxious. I text my husband to actually explain my mood. I hope he understands. I cry in Best Buy looking at iPad cases, because they don't have what I want and the sales guy looks at me like I am crazy. In that moment I miss my youth, when crying in public was sweet and got me comfort, but now as a 30 something I am just the crazy lady. It adds to the shame and guilt I was already feeling.

I stop shopping for myself and head to the movies where I find a new DVD for the boys, something they will love. I call and tell my 5 year-old and he says 'Thank you' and 'I love you' and he asks for me to hurry home for a hug. There is small release, I feel less angry and more tired. I tell him I love him and I start to cry all over again.

I wander around the bookstore, something I used to love, I try and conjure the desire and love for reading that has always got me through rough spots, but nothing intrigues me; it all reminds me of another failure in my life -- I never wrote the book. I never followed through. I catch myself petting an awkward bird stuffie and decide he will be my beckon of hope; Elliot the Emu. I tell myself this little stuffed bird will fix things, it will be my save spot, it will be my reminder of the time I didn't purge and nothing bad came from it.

And then as a reward for this progress, I end up at a smoothie place. I order a kale concoction with added protein and commend myself on the healthy dinner choice and hit up the bakery next door to get cupcakes for my poor family as penance for having to deal with my craziness. This is when I knew the binge wasn't over. I wasn't done as I ordered, without a second thought, a cupcake for myself as well.

It started all over again when I drove home, circling the box, lost in the thought of a sugary reward, that I would gobble too quickly and hate myself for. I didn't feel the weight on my chest, in fact, nothing felt real in that moment... I was watching the performance, I was acting as required to move the story along. A brief escape from my life to regroup, was all this tired soul needed. I took a deep breath, painted a smile on my face and walked into my home a new woman, happy to be there and everyone looks relived at what they think is a satisfied, whole person coming home after a won battle.

Oh how wrong they were, for now I'll keep it to myself, hidden away from them, because I love them and hate when they worry, for now I'll play the role of the perfect Mum and bedazzling wife.

I'm just so tired.

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