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I used to have an eating disorder. Once I started, I couldn't
stop eating. I ate until the food is gone. One day I sat and ate
2 gallons of ice cream. I couldn't help myself. I just couldn't
stop.
Well, I realized I had a problem, so I went to the Betty Ford
Center for Substance Abuse and asked if I could check in.
The therapist said, "No way."
I said, "But I have a serious problem."
"He said, "Yes, we know. Your problem is that you are
not a celebrity."
Well, it only took a moment for me to compre that bit of hend.
I came back home, very depressed, and called out for Pizza. I ate two large with everything. It was a special. Two for the price of one. How could I refuse? After eating the pizzas and drinking half a case of red pop, I fell into a deep sleep. When I awoke, 2 days had passed. I knew I had to do something, but what?
In desperation, I searched the yellow pages. My idea was to find some kind of a substance abuse program that I could get into. It turned out that there were several programs available. I did not know which to check out first, so I closed my eyes and stuck a finger on the page. When I looked, I was pointing to Eric Proviso's Quick Help Abuse Clinic. The ad was comforting.
If you have a substance abuse problem, of any kind, we can help you. There is no mumbo jumbo here. We use straight forward Pavlovian, conditioned response techniques to quickly and permanently change your abusive habits into healthy behavior. Results are guaranteed. Most of our clients recover within 6 weeks. Our fees are well within the means of normal people.
It seemed kind of odd that they would guarantee results. I thought, ‘Well, if it doesn't work, I can only lose 6 weeks. What the heck.'
When I showed up, they were ready to sign me up right away. I had to pay for 6 weeks in advance, but it was only $1,200.00. They said that was to make sure I would stay in the program.
They took me to a small cell like room with a toilet, shower,
cot, table, and chair. There were no windows. I was a bit apprehensive,
but the young lady therapist reassured me.
"Everyone is nervous at first," she said, "but
we'll get you over it quickly."
She left for a moment and then returned with another young woman. They proceeded to set the table with plates and such, as though I were in a restaurant. I asked what they we doing, but the therapist just smiled and said, "You'll see. This is the first part of the treatment."
Then they brought in a serving cart and set out a beautiful
onion soup and a shrimp salad. I could only gape. The therapist
smiled and said, "Go ahead. Desert is Cherries Jubilee."
"Wait a minute, I demanded. "How is this going to change
my behavior?"
"It's the first part of the therapy," she smiled. "Just
do it."
I did, and had one of the most excellent meals I have ever had.
The women cleaned up and left me alone. I dropped onto the cot
in confusion and fell into a deep sleep.
When I awoke, two very tough looking men in white uniforms were looming over me. They had some hose and a large jug on an IV pole. Before I could move, they had me pinned down on the cot. I looked up to see my therapist standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. Her mouth was twisted into a mean grin. I won't give the details of what happened next. Suffice it to say, I was well purged when they left.
I was weak from the struggle, but I was desperate. I felt I had to get out of there. It was then I discovered that the door was metal and was barred from the outside. I was trapped. I didn't bother to shout. I lay on the cot and fretted until I fell into a fitful sleep.
The next day, there was only one difference. One of the men was standing in the door when the meal was served. My escape was cut off. Otherwise, the events were the same. I had an excellent meal followed by the nocturnal visit.
By the fourth day, I was very weak, but I was determined to avoid the treatment. I refused to eat. All the cajoling by my very attractive therapist notwithstanding, I held firm. That night I was allowed to sleep in peace. This procedure went on for several days. I lost count. They would bring in this meal. I would steadfastly refuse to eat and I would be left alone until the next day.
Then, one day, the women showed up and set the table with a bowl of simple cabbage soup, some bread, and a plate of raw vegetables. There was also two pieces of fruit. My therapist said, "This is how you should be eating. You can eat this. Nothing will happen. They left the food there and went away. I just sat and starred at it. I was afraid to eat it, though I was weak from hunger.
The next day they did the same thing, refreshing the entire simple meal. For four more days, I resisted. Finally, I could stand it no longer and I ate the meal. I spent most of the night with my back to the wall and my eyes wide open. I finally dosed off near morning, but nothing happened.
The procedure continued for several days. I had lost all track of time. Then, one day, there was an addition to the meal. There was a piece of Black Forest Cake along with the soup, bread, vegetables, and fruit. Without thinking, I ate it. That night, the flush squad showed up again. The cake was not a reward. It was a test and I had failed. After that, there was always some tempting thing along with the simple meal, but I had learned.
Several days later, my therapist opened the door and gave me
an enormous hug.
"It's all over," she gushed. "You're cured. I'm
releasing you today."
I was in shock. I had forgot that I had any other life. I had
been resigned to a lifetime in that little cell with simple food
and a beautiful, if tough, therapist.
"My God," I blurted. "How long have I been here?"
"Just as we promised," she said. "It's been 6 weeks."
I couldn't believe it, but the calendar confirmed her words.
I had suffered a lifetime's worth of purges in only 6 weeks. Now
I am completely cured. I eat only plain simple food and I am never
tempted by extra treats. I only have a couple of problems now.
Whenever I am around people, I keep my back to the wall. The only
other thing is, I often wake up in the middle of the night in
terror, dreaming of those two guys.
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