If no one has ever told you I’m going to tell you now. Relapses and lapses are part of recovery, but there’s a huge difference between the two. Relapsing is falling completely back into old behaviors and lapsing is participating in that behavior, “slipping,” with no intentions of discontinuing treatment/recovery. So when I say my “lapse” lead to frequent “lapses” which lead me into a spiral of relapses that later lead to a relationship ending because well I guess it’s slightly uncomfortable dating someone who will purposely vomit and it may be even more uncomfortable if you see them doing this and later attempt to confront them, but it backfires. For the record I was all ears and compassion until he mentioned words/phrases such as “disease,” “out of control,” “sickness” and “denial.” Until that moment I was extremely patient and nice, but to give him the benefit of the doubt he was patient until I began quietly laughing. Looking at that situation now me explaining to him that I was fine, everything was under control and that it wouldn’t happen again even though we both knew it would I guess proved his point and in a sense proved the conclusion I later grasped. An addiction no matter what your poison is doesn’t just poison you. In a sense it poisons those around you as well. Your intention isn’t to hurt them, it’s to make them happy. My intention was to protect him from myself, but sometimes things don’t always go as we plan and we never intend to turn into what we never wanted to become in the first place. Even after our breakup I never “stopped” nor went back into treatment like I planned to. However, I was honest with my therapist and she was well aware of my frequent relapses that I called “slips.” I guess she didn’t think that crying in the bathroom while listening to David Bazan after purging was a productive thing to do after work nor was baking various things and binging on them, oops. Despite all of this believe me when I say I never wanted this. I didn’t want to be sitting here almost eleven years later choking down my pride and being politely forced by my therapist to call my eating disorder nutritionist that I’ve avoided for months and schedule an appointment. I didn’t want to admit defeat, I didn’t want to reach out and I thought I could do it on my own. I thought I could gain control back or maybe I thought I never lost it. I’m not sure, but for a few months I delayed scheduling an appointment because in a sense I believed it would be an indication of me admitting that I was powerless over my bulimia. Who wants to truly admit they are powerless? No one because humans are proud creatures and as for me I am probably one of the most prideful human beings you will ever meet; this is my problem. This is the problem that I finally said to Naomi in her office as I was looking out the window. I told her of my uncertainty of treatment and that I wasn’t sure if I was fully ready to tell myself that this isn’t something I can do alone. That exact moment lead me to an appointment with my eating disorder nutritionist on the 24th. Believe me when I tell you it is not admitting defeat when you ask for help. Think of it as going to war, does one person go to war or do hundreds-thousands join together to conquer their enemy? When you go to war with your demons you don’t need to be a one-man army; you don’t need to go to battle alone.