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My life was filled with dead-end relationships. Seemed every guy I dated had problems with drugs or alcohol. A little voice inside me always told me my bulimia was no different and was probably what attracted these addicts to my life, but I never listened. It was easier just to leave the relationship than to leave my bulimic lifestyle of 25 years.

I was 41 when I met my husband, Rielly. He is Native American and alcoholism has done incredible damage to his race. Rielly was no exception. When I met Rielly it was like nothing I had ever experienced before in my life. I was so taken by him. He wasn’t my type, and 15 years younger than me, but I had no control. I was so in love with him. I knew the Lord had put a spell on me.

Yet, the first time I saw Rielly drunk, I was horrified. I knew he had had too much to drink and was going to die. But he just laughed at me. The next day I told him I understood why he drank the way he did, because that’s the way I eat. With bulimia, I starve myself then eat and eat everything in sight. Rielly just laughed at my reasoning.

We got married, even though my eating habit never changed and neither did Rielly’s drinking. One year later I told him it was his drinking or me. He said, “See ya,” and walked out the door. I divorced him.

From the day he walked out to the next time we saw each other was 13 months. Those were the worst 13 months of my life. I was in hell. Inside, I knew this was not about his drinking; it was about my eating. I knew if I could beat my eating disorder, he could beat his drinking. But I couldn’t do it and it was easier just to blame this failed relationship on him than to take responsibility.

I was an Administrative Assistant for an insurance company that went under, leaving me unemployed. While I was searching through the newspaper for work, I came across an ad: “Free help for people with bulimia.” Everything happens for a reason. It was the biggest struggle of my life, but I knew it was my only hope. Bulimia is a vicious cycle of starvation, eating then purging. But I could safely eat fruits and salads without having to throw up and I reluctantly listened to my doctor and hid cheese in my salads to break the starvation.

I did it. I broke the cycle. I would eat and not throw up. I knew my Rielly would come back to me… but he didn’t. It was five months later before, out of nowhere, there he was standing right in front of me. I looked at him and said, “Well, are you ready to get help?” He looked me right in the eyes and said, “Yes, I am.” We made a date to talk later that day and I walked away nonchalantly as if I didn’t care. But the moment I was out of his sight, I broke down and bawled. The weight of the world had just been lifted off my shoulders.

I went through alcoholism treatment with Rielly. That was six years ago. It seems like yesterday, yet at the same time it seems like those days never were. Alcohol and bulimia have no part of our lives today.

We may have saved each other, but as far as I can see, Rielly saved me. I couldn’t have overcome my addiction without his.