A SaFe pLaCe ...

A safe place

I took my time in order to chose what I really wanted to talk about .The idea of being on a safe place tormented me a little .There was no way that place could exist and so the idea of safeness or somewhere I could expose my deepest feelings , my foolish frightens or my oldest secrets. After a while a find it, it was me, my own mind .That was the place and it is only my decision to let others in, instead of kipping everything to my self, like if I were wonder woman, because am not( not even close).That’s why I choose this secret of mine to share with all you. I hope no one get scare of worry about it, because I m ok, it’s never coming again .So here the … story. I m kind of nervous of telling it publicly but I believe I not going to regret.
I must admit I did it. I stood in front of the toilet, I grab a toothbrush and I push it into my throat and saw it all come out. It tasted so acid and it hurt anyway I made it again. Of course I knew all the physical and physiological facts of bulimia and until that moment I have always thought of it as the dumbest thing to do but I had been called UGLY several times that day and by one of the persons I cared the most at that time. So I felt that way, I felt it on every single part of my body, and inevitably I HAD TO related to food. You’ll see I had always loved chocolate and my mother always told me I had to eat least because “I had to take care of my body” , but somehow I related what she said that to appearance not to health. So I had enough pressure to fell the way I was felling and to “explore” what I knew could only hurt me .That night, when I went to bed, thousands of things cross my mind and by the next morning I felt everything was ok and made like if nothing had happened. Eventually, some weeks later I told it to one of my friends and I thought I had put it behind of ever. I didn’t some months later I try it again and for some longer time .I knew was I was doing, but the felling of throwing everything away was... special. It hurts, it hurts a lot, and not just physically because every time I did it I know I was digging my own well. I put a stop to it, I m just to self demanding to let my self catalogue as some twisted-weak – none caring person to stay in that dark storm.
I know it’s over now, hopefully I found the right persons to talk with about it and let myself go on enjoying life the way it must be. That ghost its not coming again, I know it wont even dare to. BUT if he does, ill have the support of the most amazing persons of hearth, but I know it’s not.
So that’s my story , and this is the safe place I chose to share it , because , probably , I could not find more safeness anywhere but here , where I am loved and I love back .