Treatment : On Pause III

At the first sight of rays of light I hear the birds sing

It's a sign he's given me every thing will be OK

Sometimes when I wake up 

And I'm wondering how my life would have been if I didn't sing

I get a little stressed out every now and then

But problems come and problems go when I'm around him

Blessed in the morning

Blessed in the evening

And again I realize the reason why I sing

I'm in a darn dandy mood-and here's why.

I CALMED THE FUCK DOWN.

:)

This morning I went for a run-not to burn off the cider I had last night but just to run. I did my own rendition of yoga at the pond we hung out at when I was growing up. It reminded me of treatment because we do yoga there to help us out. I was reminded of what I'm learning there.

In yoga it was my first time mentally taking control of my thoughts, listening to them and redirecting them. That is so damn powerful.

I came back looking like I had just dove into a pool-I wanted to at that moment haha And showered, got ready and looked pretty damn good thank you very much.

We headed off the the funeral home.

I met countless people that had been impacted by my Granny.

Until then I was having trouble grieving because I didn't have that many recent memories of her, she lives all the way in Tallahassee and I'm up in Seattle.

As I heard coworker's, neighbor's and family member's stories I found out who she was to so many. My mom got up to talk and I instinctively went with her.

She talked and left the podium. I stood there for a second, sniffed loudly and very attractively then began to talk. 

Afterwards I got so many compliments on my speech, told it was funny, sweet, honest and touching.

Phew. I hadn't planned on talking but I think she wanted me to.

Since the memorial we've been with family and friends of course and I haven't thought about ED more than once. It's freeing.

I have had two meals and not really freaked out over it, didn't get anxious and just enjoyed my time.

What's changed is that i have stopped giving food and ED power over me. This is my life and it's my memories not ED's.

I'm constantly stopping negative thoughts consciously and trying to not put myself down out loud. It took a whole sleepless night to talk myself out of the negativity but it worked and I feel powerful, hopeful.

Guess that just proves that hard work does pay off.

I'm feeling so blessed.

Time to go watch the Seminoles stomp out USF.

Treatment : Pause II

I can't stand it.
My heart is racing and my teeth are clenched.
I'm fuckin' pissed.
I can't tell what's in my head and what's real. I have so much anxiety at the table.
I wish no one in my family knew about ED and I.
I wish I could not be driven to madness by their slurps, crunches and sucking sounds when I'm not eating.
I wish I could know what their sideways comments mean "Oh you changed again. How many outfits do you need?"
I tried asking my mom if I could leave the table quietly but she wouldn't listen so I had to say it loud and bam everyone is staring at me. The problem child, the fucked up kid, the mess up once again interrupting  What are they thinking now? It's like I can't do anything right. If I stayed I would have not be present, so inside my thoughts with how much I hated sitting there, how judged I felt, how just fucking mad I am.
I want to be pleasant, I want to be socialable but once again I'm not. I feel so alone and just like I don't fit. I don't fit in anywhere. I've always looked for something to fill this space of being so totally alone and there's nothing. ED did it for a while. I tried booze that doesn't work. I tried boys and that doesn't work. I'm trying faith and that's the closest I've gotten. Loving myself and who I am and truly believing I deserve happiness has given me glimpses of joy of pride and the hole seems to be gone-but it's back now.

I ate according to my meal plan, I tried everything with a mindful minute (where I think about what I'm eating and really taste it-sounds weird but it is SO helpful-try it) and didn't go over or under. I even had creamed corn stuff that was so good I wanted to have 4ths-usually this would have scared me. So if it's not the food that's making me anxious what is it?

Ok so in order to try to make myself smile I'm making an analogy, think of when you really have to fart but you're on a first date. You try to hold it in and act like nothings wrong but then you just get awkward and more uncomfortable. So then to make up for your awkwardness you make small talk and jokes that just suck because your mind is so focused on not letting one go. Then you can't stand it anymore excuse yourself and you can't even do what you have to do for some stupid reason. This sucks because A you were just super weird for no reason and drew attention to yourself and B because you still have gas. If you go back the same shit will happen again but if you stay away too long your company will think you're rude.

DOES THIS MAKE SENSE? Or did I just write about farting. God I'm SO single.

So hmm....I guess I'm just focused on what everyone else wants, what everyone else is thinking. Being with family is hard, I just am mind reading the fuck out of them and it's driving me crazy. But I'm creating my own drama, my own anxiety by doing this.

Also, there was a lot of negative talk there in the beginning. I'm supposed to not do that. I'm complicating things, let's make it simple...

I have to bring everything back down to normal size from the monstrosity I blew it up to.

If anyone is looking at what I'm eating and how it's because they care.
My Tia made what I took as cutting comments and why do I care what she thinks? I changed my outfit because I want to look pretty and be comfortable which involves an outfit change, it's to make me happy that's it.
I ate on my meal plan at a not so healthy meal. FUCKYABITCHES.
I left rather awkwardly, but well I am awkward you can't change the past.
If I just stay present and enjoy the company and remember why I'm here then I'll be ok.
I'm calm now.
I know I have His guidance and His love. I'll just take one thing at a time for what it is.

They are checking on me now. Ugh ED says - they thought you were throwing up. You made a scene you suck.

I say, they just want me to go do dishes HA!

Phew.

I'm sad to say it but I miss dinner at the center.

God bless!

Treatment : On Pause

but like totes not stopping.

I just mean I'm not in treatment right meow.

So. Shit. There's so much. I wanted to ignore it but um I can't. Cause then I'll EXPLODE WITH FEEWINGS. And make really bad decisions.

So here we go (said in Mario's voice on Mario Kart - chea buddy).

I did fine with food today, well fuckin' fantastic! actually.

For those of you who don't know my Granny passed away recently. I hopped on a plane or two to Tallahassee for her memorial. I am meow here. Yay.

So it was about lunch time during my connection from Dallas (f u Cowboys! ha ha!) to Tallahassee and this bitch was hungry.

So I got some food (portebella mushrooms, toms, chicken, broccoli and rice!) and ran to the gate. A big black woman who was boarding people on told me to run-so I didn't.

I almost made the plane late OR missed my flight to stick to my meal plan. That's fuckin' dedication if you ask me and since you didn't I'm just sayin' that dedication.

ED was trying to get in my head and be like you fat ass you should have just not eaten. Your brother has eaten just a string cheese that you gave him earlier and that's it and you've had three meals FUCKA. and I said heck no daddy-o youze a bitch. And we were done. I win.

Then I got here and started breaking down at the sight of my Granny's house. I've been holding in breaking down all day because I just don't want to.

We came inside and saw mi Tia and padre and prima who are already here. Two seconds later I hear "dinner!"

Oh fuck.

I got what I needed to according to my meal plan AND added in dessert because on Thursdays we eat that at the center.

Ballsy ?  yes.

I could feel my Tia watching me and I fucking hated it. Get off my shit. Stop looking at me. I feel so naked, vulnerable ED can't do it's thing anymore but then again I can't do my new thing because I"m so nervous at to what everyone will say.

So that's where I'm at.

I'm walking in the house that has so many good memories and that was my second home for so long and I'm not feeling. Not by choice though, not intentionally, I just can't muster up the crying thing. I am not sure what's wrong.

But when it comes I'll accept it.

I hope.

So tomorrow is prep day ... I hope I can continue to take comments and opinions for what they are and keep my head on right. I mean this is the real world and I am so happy being out of treatment.

ok so my cousin just tripped and hit the window outside and I totally lost my train of thought. That's all kids.

God bless.

Treatment Day 17: “May the bridges I burn light the way.”

I met this guy in early spring. It was by chance and honestly quite a cute story.

I went out to Fremont with friends and was just there to shake it and be with my girls.

We met up with our friends and he was with them, just visiting from out of state. He was tall, dark and handsome and then he said the words that got me hooked—that he was religious and was waiting til marriage to sleep with someone again.

At the end of the night we exchanged numbers and ended up talking and getting along really well for being complete strangers. So much so I planned to fly out to see him where he was based, he's in the military. Well the date I had set wasn't soon enough for me so I planned another trip and off I went.

Things once again went surprisingly well when I was there. I started to believe in good guys again, I started to trust.

After my trip I came home smitten.

Long story short—he stopped talking to me.

My confidence was shot. I was confused. What had I done? What was wrong with me? Why does this keep happening? I thought I was being smart too. I didn't get attached but well it still hurt, especially when I thought I had found a gentleman, someone with faith and someone who actually liked me for me.

As you can assume that second trip was cancelled. Now I had credit for another flight with no where to go.

So I planned a trip to see my Granny and Tia and Aunt Mary in Florida in October.

That trip also fell through because I'm in treatment and can't take more time off from work. Again, I cancelled the trip and had a significant amount of miles to use.

Then my granny passed two days ago.

My mom and I frantically looked for cheap flights—so such luck. Southwest doesn't even fly into Tallahassee. I was beginning to stress. I had a day to book a flight that wasn't a grand.

Then I remembered my miles, and even though my mom said American Airlines was awful I felt compulsed to call them.

It worked out wonderfully. I got seats for my mom, brother and I on the same flight for half the price that was online because of a compassion fare.

So, what I'm getting at is that He works in mysterious ways and even though you can't see why shitty things happen while in the shit of it there's always a reason and He's always working.

If I hadn't met that guy, been swept off my feet then firmly dropped on them, I wouldn't have booked any flights, I wouldn't have thought to call AA and I wouldn't be able to afford to go to my Granny's funeral.

It may be a stretch , but shit it gives me peace and I need some of that right now.

“May the bridges I burn light the way.” 

Treatment Day : 16 Crying Gives Me a Headache

To repeat myself...this treatment thing is hard.
I miss my granny.
I'm exhausted from crying.
And until late today I was a big Negative Nancy.

I was on such a great path with treatment. I mean I wasn't as skinny as the other girls (which for once is a plus), I wasn't throwing up or abusing booze, I had a happy go lucky attitude and got along with everyone.

Then I got slapped with reality.

I'm sick. I have a disorder just like every other person in treatment. Zis is why I'm paying thousands to be in treatment, because I need it.

Doh.

My therapist, peers and diet tech all told me things I was doing wrong. Like comparing myself to the skinnier girls, their meals. Comparing myself to other's treatments. Asking innappropriate questions in the kitchen and at mealtime (like nutritional info). Picking out single pieces of chicken chunks so I didn't get a fatty one.

You know the usual.

While some of this may seem human, harmless and ridiculous-it's all connected with my recovery and others. And it's all caused by ED. stupid bitch.

I took it as what I was doing wrong = I'm failing = I'm a terrible person = No one likes me and repeat.

Then my granny died.

Then I got sadder.

I couldn't get the loop out of my head and I was digging deeper. It's like every time I tried righting something I just made it worse.

I was brought back to high school and wanting to please everyone around me and not doing so and hating myself for not being able to.

But then I did the most uncomfortable thing. I was positive. I pushed through it, it wasn't easy. I ignored those comments I made to myself and chose to see things in a different light-through different eyes.

MY EYES not Ed's.

The things I was doing, the comparing and analyzing my food isn't me. So when I'm called out on behaviors like that it's just them trying to get Ed out of me. If I work on these things then I'll be more me, whoever that is.

I vented this to the group at the end of the day and they were all "We love you Kris! It makes us mad that you even say that we don't like you..." etc. And I'm almost believing them rather than thinking it's a sympathy thing.

It's just so UNCOMFORTABLE and stupid sounding to be nice to myself.

So I'm pretty happy with myself.

Now it's off to find plane tickets to Tallahassee that aren't a grand. If you have a private jet, please let me use it.

PS I was watching Pineapple Express before writing and this part made me laugh so hard I choked on my Sleepy Time Tea. Aw.

Either I'm brain dead from all these emotions and shit or this movie gets better every time.

Let's go with both.

Treatment Day 15 : To My Granny

This morning at 3 AM my granny passed away in her sleep. Her daughter was by her side and my dad just a room away. She died with dignity and is in a better place now. I can't thank all of you enough for the comments, calls, messages and support-you all should have a blog you're very good with words!

So I had written this for her about two weeks ago, and I filmed it just so she could see me too. It made my dad cry, my aunts appreciated it, my mom cried too and Granny thought it was so thoughtful.

 This is quite a personal post so here it goes.

Dear Granny,

There are so many things I want to tell you, and there's no time like the present right? So here it goes. Just so you know, like most of my thoughts, there's no order, rhyme or reason to these memories I'm just writing and reading whatever pops into my head first.

I love the name "Granny." I think it is what I want my grandkids to call me, if I ever have any of them that is.

When I think of your house, 3005 Banks Road—I memorized that much of it—I will always remember sitting on your front porch and feeling like we were special for doing so. No one ever seemed to use the front door. I remember eating popsicles with Steven and Beca on the front steps, specifically red ones.

I remember at the end of every walk that the beginning of your hill signified it was time to run. As soon as we spotted the house we'd start our countdown then race to the mailbox. I'd always lose.

I might have been a brat at the time, but I love the fact that we always went on walks. I liked everything from leashing up the pup to giving them a treat at the end. I love all the different kinds of houses in Fox Trot. However, I remember thinking you Floridians had weird grass. I began to correlate the feeling of being home with katydids and Spanish moss and the smell of humidity from those walks.

I adore your accent and how you look when you laugh, your face kind of scrunches. From my most recent visit I came to know you much better and enjoyed your sense of humor and easygoing personality. Tia's as well.

I always stared at the dog picture in the bathroom. I think I have the thing memorized. I loved the bamboo wallpaper in there too and the smell. Your house has very distinctive smells. Not smelly smells but good smells.

Granddad did too. I picture him lounging out at the pool all bronzed and bare, his chest hair white and his gold chain glinting in the sun. He always wore polos—or at least I think he did. I remember when he yelled at me for eating pudding weird—I probably deserved it.

Your room and bathroom always had nostalgia to it. Whenever I think of it my mind, even in my old age, I'm taken back to the fantasy, fairytale world I created with the help of your room and items in it. Flashes of fancy silver accessories on your dresser and your huge closet plus your perfume collection come into my head—specifically Chanel No.5. Oh and the pink pouf that I would use even though I wasn't supposed to, forgive me, I just wanted to pretend I was fancy and rich.

You make THE BEST sandwiches. I can picture the cousins all sitting together still dripping from the pool each eating a sandwich with a side of Lays. I don't know what you did to make those so darn good but you did it well.

I love the face you make when you're being sarcastic. I love that you say "bum" and "mum".

I love how active you've always been as well as social. I love that you carry yourself with grace and humility.

I always adored how you wore a nightgown around or is it a robe? I liked how it was a deep, rich green and that it was velvet. I loved how you and Granddad had your own chairs by the fire. How you always had animals.

Do you remember when I stepped in the ant hill when we were testing out dogs? I sure do haha I plunged my foot into the pool and it was COVERED in ants.

That pool brought me such joy. Diving for those blasted yellow eggs with lizards in them. Pretending I was Ariel. Diving off the board. Slipping down multiple slides into the pool.

Cleaning the pool with the net as well as the drain and finding frogs in there.

I had some hard times there too. I got my period there. I had one of my first freak outs about my weight when I was 12. And I started getting help for my eating disorder because of what happened when I visited you last.

I remember you reading Misty of Chincoteague to me. I remember doing countless puzzles.

I remember being so proud that our hands looked alike. That someone so clumsy and awkward as myself could slightly resemble you.

My last visit there was so much fun because I got to know you for you. I got to see your humor, that you indulge in dessert and feel more like family even though we are so far away.

I remember watching thunderstorms from your living room. Giving the dog ice cubes. Staring at the grandfather clock. Jumping on my bed and losing my tooth. But most importantly I remember feeling at home when I came to your house, like I belonged somewhere and I knew the moment I stepped foot inside your door I was loved.

You taught me the Lord's Prayer and every Sunday when I say it I'm so proud to finally have memorized it.

I love you with all my heart and then some Granny,

Kristin 

Treatment Day : 14 This Is Hard

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FERBZsyOcsw&feature=autoshare

There's so much going on in my head and I just want to take my thoughts, organize them and put them away. I just want to feel better.

Think of it like ... I have to do my laundry, but there's clothes I want to give away oh and before I can start either of those I need to go get more quarters for the washer so I have to walk to QFC where I could go get food but then I'd have to make a list and I forgot how much money I have left in my budget which reminds me that I need to see how much I spent going out last night…

Yaddida?

Everything is all over the place and I can't get a grasp on it and I can't start fixing things until I know what's wrong.

BUT WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG.

Here's a start.

My granny is dying. Right now. I could get the call any moment. She hasn't eaten a thing in over a week. She no longer talks, just nods or shakes her head. She stares out the window when she is awake. My dad is in Florida and has said his goodbyes, now it's a sick twisted waiting game. I can't do anything to help ease whatever it is he's feeling.

Every time I start to think about my Granny I have to stop or else I will cry-like the blubbering, sobbing, ugly weird noises kind of crying.

Then there's the whole eating disorder thing.

I am having conflicts with if being hungry is ok. If getting excited to eat is ok. If not wanting to workout everyday is ok. If buying bigger jeans is ok.

Instead of feeling empowered and like I'm in control (like Kris is talking not Ed) when I do enjoy a meal or chose to not workout I feel weak. Ed makes me feel like I'm a pushover and lazy. Like I've given up.

OH! Shit. Hm I guess I am giving up—the disease. But Ed doesn't want me to see it that way. It wants me to see it as shameful failure.

Today I went to my friggin' fantastic friend's baby shower. I showed up in my finest rehab clothes, hair that hasn't been washed in 3 days and I still had some makeup on from last night. HOLLA.

The other girls there were "cuter than me," "more interesting than me," and thought "I was ugly and awkward." The quotes are for what ED's telling me. FYI.

I realized Ed was talking shit. So I stepped out and called a friend or well talked at her voice mail.

As I talked I realized that what I was saying was rediculous. These girls aren't going to not talk to me because my hair is oily and if they didn't they ain't nothin' but bitches.

I also realized that I was giving the food power. But no I'm in power now. I don't have to be scared of it. I can have a taste enjoy it and move on. And that's what I did.

I was present the entire shower and had so much fun watching my friend get ready for her baby girl to arrive. 

Later I was texting this guy I met last night. He invited me and "my girls" (no not my tatas) over to watch football. I got mad immediately, he's just texting me to get with my hot friends. But I paused and said no Ed he didn't say that so I gave him the benefit of the doubt and I told him "my girls" were unavailable he said ok well then you come over. Oh. Ok.

After eating corn, beef and a salad covered in dressing and cheese courtesy of the center, I came home without working out and am having a glass of wine. I have not done a thing but caught up with a friend, semi cleaned my room and did half my dishes and that's it. I am not upset that I have that food sitting in me-even though that took some time to believe-and I am not devaluing myself because of it. 

I'm fucking enjoying myself.

Now I'm doing my favorite thing with one of my favorite things. That means writing and drinking for you slow people.

Today was a small dose of what the real world has in store when I'm not safely behind the center's walls, and well I passed. It was fucking hard but I passed.

Good night. God bless.

Treatment Day 13

I'm going dancing on Capitol Hill tonight to get my yaya's out and be a normal person.

To wear too much makeup, to dance like an idiot, to laugh so hard it hurts and to live my life.

Everything will be alright.

Good night God bless.

Kris.

Treatment Day : 12 Digging Up The Past

Hi ya.

So I walked in the door about 20 minutes ago.

This bitch is tired.

I'm going to keep it short and sweet - the exact opposite of yours truly.

One thing stands out from today and that is thoughts are not always true or helpful.

"I'm fat." "No one likes me." - Just because I say those doesn't mean they are true. They most certainly are not helpful.

I began believing these thoughts when I was young-like 12.

Today in treatment I began my eating disorder timeline, which just covers when my behaviors started and significant events as it progressed.

This brought up a lot, like way more than I could process, but I'm going to start now.

So, picture tall (like tallest girl in the class) awkward me with self-cut bangs and a happy go lucky attitude with a bit of spunk and sport to her. That was me in 5th grade, 5th turned to 6th and out of nowhere I had no friends. All of a sudden I was not cool and I was very alone.

I still remember a cute boy calling me "Super Bitch" I didn't even know what a bitch was.

Everything I seemed to do was wrong and the girls I was once friends with pushed me away. They were small, petite and cute, I desperately wanted to be like them and have my friends back.

From 6th grade on I have been trying to fit a mold.

I think I learned that I can't control what people think of my personality and who I am but I can control my looks and make them like me that way.

That is very sad to me.

The teasing kept on all the way to high school but instead of hurtful words it was actions.

Dog shit on my door step.
WHORE spray painted on my lawn (my dad found it. I was dating someone at the time)
Senior year I woke up to my car painted with dicks all over it, "bitch" "beer slut" etc written for everyone to see.

I didn't like school and most of the time was lost. God it still hurts now.

So that's what I'm dealing with and having it brought up makes me want to shove it back down.

On the bright side we get to see Finding Nemo 3D tomorrow. It's to practice sitting in one spot (well that's just my issue), and having those trigger foods around us in a public setting.

God it's like being released into the wild after being in a zoo.

Good night, God bless.

Treatment Day : 11 The Saying Goes...

I feel like a superhero - that super sucks at being normal.
But I guess that's why I'm super?
What I mean is that I'm totes living a double life.
I forgot it was fall until I saw decorations in a Starbucks. This usually is my favorite time of the year and my room would be full of pumpkin spice candles, warmly hued decorations and my closet full of new snuggly clothes.
Instead my shorts are scattered all over my floor, I can't find my lighter for my non existent candles and my decorations look very similar to unread mail.

I just popped on a normal outfit - zebra shorts, boots and a sequin top - to run errands in my neighborhood. Who would have known that walking through the smell of Dick's, bumping into drag queens and a marching band would be a breath of fresh air? I got my fix of reality when browsing the aisles of QFC under florescent lights with people that are complete strangers.

I stopped by my gym and said hi to the front desk guy. Had small talk with other members. It's crazy to me that no one knows I'm in treatment 11 hours a day, that 2 hours ago I was sitting in a confined facility eating dinner while being watched by diet techs and therapists. I was facing my deadly disease in a circle on comfy couches under the comfort of my snuggy while holding back tears. The woman who I talked about the gym's tanning with has no idea.

Which got me thinking, what is she hiding? What is everyone else going through? You really can't judge a book by its cover.

One thing that hit me is that when you see me you don't see my disorder, you see ... ME. When I see others I don't see their worst trait, I don't see their flaws, shortcomings and imperfections...I just see them. I also can't see their successes and pride...I still just see them.

Two days ago I went to an AA meeting. I am still not sure what my relationship with booze is. So better safe than sorry.

I walked in sat down and felt that something was off-the men were just too attractive.

As soon as we began to read the 12 steps and I heard "Oh yea gurl" it hit me.
I'm in a gay meeting.

Luckily I was wearing a rainbow headband, sweatshirt and hadn't shaved my legs in 3 weeks (yes I'm disgusting I know, I'm also single) so maybe I passed. NOT that you can judge a book my it's cover-I'm just trying to be funny.

Anyway, so after the happiest, silliest intro to a meeting I've ever had the speaker for the night started talking.

He through me for a loop. He was all slicked up and had piercings, gelled hair, Nikes on really clean cut. But as I looked at him and listened to his story, his appearance didn't all fit the man he was describing. He had committed many crimes, which he was so good at he got landed in prison and basically hit rock bottom. He ended his story about how we was going home to his family and he could barely get the words out because his emotions had taken over.

I was right there with him.

If I would have seen him at QFC I probably would have given him a stanky look for his bleached Eminem hair and forgotten about him two seconds later. And yet here in this meeting he told me things I needed to hear like:

"I'm a liar, a cheater and a terrible person when I'm using."
"It works until it doesn't."
"It's not wrong to love yourself. I was surprised when people liked me for being me."
"Change is hard."

The meeting ended  with a bubbly sounding serenity prayer and I ran out of there with a fat smile.

Anyway, what I'm getting at is that people will have their thoughts about you. You can't control them or what they say to you and what it really comes down to how you see yourself and how you act.

All my life, since I was 12 and the girls started being mean to me and I couldn't figure out why, I've been trying to please others. I lost myself long ago and didn't have any fucking clue as to who I was when I really started looking. I still don't know who I am and that is the scariest thing. I will be the first to admit I'm petrified of the unknown and not having control. This is why I do what I do with food and exercise, I want to know the outcome I want to feel secure in something. Without the food and my habits and my skin and bones I don't know who I am. Also, I have to try to live up to higher expectations, of the girl I see sneak through my ED now and that's scary.

Basically I'm just a wuss. However, I've started to find my voice and that voice is beginning to rival ED. Currently though it's a constant battle, like watching Real Housewives in my head. Just exhausting, pointless and over dramatic-and I don't even have to pay for cable.

Treatment Day : 10 Grace Kelly Grace Kelly

I don't really want to write. I have so many directions I could go in. So until I figure out the deeper shit I'm just going to tell you the highlights of my day in hopes of:

1. remembering it's the little things that count
2. to make you smile
3. going to bed in a chipper mood.

Having butter on my English muffin and NOT dying.

The girls saying I'd be a fun girlfriend - yes guys this lady is single.

Learning to crochet in art (or well how to make a knotted mess with a stick)

My nutritionist telling me I've LOST weight since coming in. (WHAT THE HELL. I am eating way more and moving much less...I'm inclined to not believe her...but why would she lie? Also, it makes me happy that I listened to them and am getting happier and not ballooning out like I KNEW I would)

Rediscovering Michael Jackson via spotify.

My mom saying she'll take me to my friend's baby shower.

Sharing this video with my group.

Randomly saying "my little croissant" and "Grace Kelly" all day.

Doing yoga and feeling damn sexy doing it.

Finding out that rice isn't as scary as I thought and pretending that my broccoli at dinner were trees and I was a giant.

Getting out of treatment late and racing my bus to the bus stop as it was stuck in traffic. Meaning that everyone on the bus was staring at me run uphill with my backpack to the stop. I was so excited I caught it that I ran into a woman getting off. When trying to find an open seat I hit a homeless man in the nose as we turned the corner and I lost my balance.
ME: "OMG did I hit your eye?"
MAN: "No, my nose."
ME: "Oh, well your eye...s are red." Awkward pause - let it sink in - "Ohhh. Sorry."

Going to the gym and watching as much trashy tv as I could handle aka 38 minutes. Blake and Ryan Reynolds are going to have some hot kids. I'm so happy the Twilight kids are getting back together.

Making an ass out of myself in front of this guy that I'm 97% isn't a douche bag.

Happily swinging my lanyard around after getting into my place only to be jerked back because it got stuck on the outside handle.

Showering with my new shower head - that sounds weird.

And now it's bed time.

Goodnight. God bless.

Girl work that up-do.

Treatment Day 9: The Break Up

I'm fighting with my significant other.

They are being so abusive, selfish and one-sided.

It's not fair.

It's like every time I try to reason with them, see the light in something, they shoot me down.

Words can never hurt me? Ya fucking right.

I just don't know what's right anymore. I'm being told I deserve better but I've put so much time and effort into this relationship, it's comfortable. And when things are good they are really good. It's like I remember why I fell in love in the first place.

Today we went out to lunch. It was a lunch with us and our friends. They chose a burger place-Lunchbox Experiment-my heart sank. I looked at them and we understood each other-this was fucking stupid.

But I tried being independent. Hmm what DO I want? There was beef, lamb, turkey / chicken. Countless kinds of mayo and cheese, none of which I'd ever had before. They seemed to tantalizing and yet scary. Do I seriously want pineapple mayo? Is feta good on a burger? I saw sweet potato fries and decided that was something that I truly wanted.

But when it came to the monstrous burger I didn't know what to do, I ended up with pepper jack and bbq sauce.

Service was terrible. It brought down the mood. Sitting for so long anticipating our meal was no fun. They kept distracting me with thoughts like why did you order that? This is disgusting. I can't believe you made us come here, I told you this was a bad idea. You're going to get so fat. Fuck you already are, might as well eat all of it. -

I looked at the girl next to me-practically skin and bones-I caught sight of my thighs. I surpressed tears.

Our meal finally came out and the burger was huge. I had to eat 3/4 of it plus some fries. The anxiety at the table was overwhelming.

I started eating, getting embarrassed that most of my sauce was on my chin. Not a way to look on a date.

It tasted pretty good. But that's when they hit me. Slapped me awake.

DO YOU SEE WHAT YOU ARE DOING? What the hell. What have we worked for? You have to throw this up. You can see the oil, the grease, this is disgusting and so are you.

Then they became sweet, they held my hand and told me that I don't have to eat this bad food and if you do eat enough so you can get sick later. Who cares what the guests think? WE are in charge.

The meal ended and I ate only what I was supposed to. We sat together feeling sick, fat and uncomfortable. I was unaware of anyone else around us, only them and me, in our twisted love-sick relationship.
I missed out on the taste of the food, the great company and the joy of being outside because of my significant other.

See, I thought I was past this. I thought I had conquered my food fears. I thought didn't get separation anxiety anymore-guess I was wrong.

Shame flooded me. I had messed up. I was supposed to be on that lunch outing alone. It was like I brought a guy to girls night-such a boner kill.

I left the meal feeling so confused. What had I just eaten? Why was that so hard? Why was I so mad? Why couldn't I just ignore them and be present with my company? Why had I failed again.

I think that's the worst. Knowing that they still have a hold on me no matter how hard it seems I try to let go and be single, find me without them. I should break up with them. They are no good for me, they only hurt me but I'm addicted to their love, their twisted ways that feel so good when it's good. But things haven't been good for a long while.

I'm just humbled that I have so much farther to go than I did. And even now as I write, my favorite form of release, I hear them in my head - "that burger is sitting on your thighs and all of that cheese-you have to get rid of it....I hate you I hate you I hate you. You're hungry? Are you fucking serious? You disgust me. Better put sweats on before you go out, no one wants to see your fat ass..."

I can't find the calm and I can't find the quiet I had just yesterday.

I think it's time for me and E.D. (eating disorder) to break up.

Allllllllllllll my single ladies?

Treatment Day: 8 Beauty

"I've got ice in my veins, blood in my eyes, hate in my heart, love in my mind."

Lil' Wayne calms me down as I rage to work (oh lord, I called treatment work-if only I got paid).

"And I search but never find."

I'm overcome with anger—I don't know why.

We go underground and come out to my favorite view of the stadiums and my work. I miss it terribly—life. Not that sports and work was my life, but it was a huge chunk of it.

"The top gets higher the more that I climb."

But then I'm reminded that I wasn't really living.

"All this bullshit made me strong mother fucker."

I usually catch up on playing Tetris during my ride-totes productive I know-but I was compelled to just stare out the window-even more productive.

I just so happen to look out when we start going over the water on 90 (oh lord is it 90? definitely not 5...?Thank goodness I'm not driving! anyway). I see the seemingly never ending water is calm, like it still wants to sleep. The sky and water mirror each other's colors. The pink of the sun mixes with the gray-blue of the water. Neither is especially brilliant or breathtaking and yet, together they are beautiful, powerful. I've lost all anger, I even think "This is made by the same creator who made you."

There's nothing about me that's brilliant or exceptional-but I still shine.

My hair like me has a mind of its own. 

My light brown eye's colors surprise people when they catch the light. 

My lips curve in a way that I've bee told is alluring. 

My hands are big with long, slender fingers that like to figdget with my hair when I'm nervous. 

My boobs have grown and I fucking love it.

My stomach has defined lines that trace to my pelvis.  

My legs I don't like but if I didn't have them my greatest joys would be impossible-Dancing, exploring, hiking, running, wearing heels and the occasion parkour.

And this is what I'm learning to nourish and love most of all, me or my mind. 

I am inspired constantly by my surroundings.

I am sparked by an interaction, a glimpse into someone else's world, my own experiences to write. I want to and have the ability to bring what I see to you with my words. 

Next to my whit and sarcasm and charm that's something I most value. 

Ironically, I didn't realize until I began writing.

Since this morning, I've had a peace within me about my body image.

To sum it up: I have an awkward body but it's mine and it works just fine. 

"Yeah, and I could die now, rebirth, motherfucker

Hop up in my spaceship and leave Earth, motherfuckerI'm gone, motherfucker, I'm gone" 

Treatment Day 7: First Week Down

So today is Sunday which usually means I'd be watching football and trying to understand it to look hot for boys. No, it doesn't work, but yes, I still try.

I was late because-well, as most of you know I like to have bus adventures.
In case you were wondering it takes me 5 minutes to sprint-yes sprint- to Nordstrom from my house.

I'm ok today. It's calmer on the weekends-oh except when the sight of my face in the mirror makes me Hulk out.

Story time!

I was just washing my hands before "outside break time" WOO and I looked into the mirror.

I admired my super cool Seahawks shirt then looked up a bit further and saw that my sports bra and chain to my necklace looked funny sticking out from my shirt.

Further up I noticed a breakout then another and another.

Then I saw my make up was orange looking-great I look like a Real Housewife.

My eyelashes weren't right.

My roots were vivid, my hair was part curly part electrocuted and part oily.

And I looked to the girl next to me who was not wearing any make up and looked gorgeous.

I don't know if I hated her or myself more.

I looked back in the mirror and this uncontrollable rage hit me.

I started crying. I needed to release this anger and shame so I grabbed a pillow and chucked it at the wall a couple times. Saying lord only knows what. I think there were words like "fuck, shit, ugly, sogoddamn..." etc.

My therapist (since we have one follow us around ALL THE TIME) asked if I'd like to go outside and TALK.

I thought, Gurl. Do I LOOK LIKE I WANT TO TALK?

And that's exactly what I said to her.

I DON'T WANT TO BE ANALYZED I DON'T WANT TO SORT OUT MY FUCKING FEELINGS AND I DON'T WANT TO BE ANOTHER TYPICAL ANOREXIC BULIMIC CASE. I AM FUCKING HUMAN AND I'M SO FUCKING MAD AND GOING CRAZY IN HERE. LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE.

So we walked (I ran) downstairs to the calm serene that is the Mercer Slough. People were kayaking for fucks sake. I think I disturbed them by my Hulkingness.

Therapist asked what would make me feel better. I said, "not being ugly and fat."
She didn't like that so she asked again. I said "working out, but you people won't let me move."
"Ok what else makes you happy?"
"Work. Work does. But I can't do that either. SO WHAT THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?"
She told me to just get it out, FEEL my FEEWINGS (yes I do that on purpose). And I did.

I calmed the fuck down apologized ten times over and talked to another therapist.

She told me it was ED and she was LOUD. I really can't decipher the truth from ED when it comes to my looks and my body. Because, dude, if you saw my hair you'd know I had better days.

We concluded that this is a difficult, long, process HOWEVER

SHE THINKS I'M BAD ASS (seriously she said that) and tough and determined. ED was telling me I'm wrong that she's just being nice but fuck you ED I am tough and BA (kind of, I mean I'm obsessed with kittens) and so determined.

I just realized I just ruined any sliver of a chance at having a dating life that I had haha

But I guess I just wanted to get across that I'm human, this is hard and not needing to remind you all of that but me, that I've done these habits for 10 years and it's going to take more than 7 days to break them.

Good thing I've got 35 more days in here.

Goodnight God bless.

Treatment Day 6: Saturday

Note to self: don't try on your old jeans. It makes you cry. Which in turn makes you blubber. Which makes you not very attractive-jussayin'. And then you waste your only "night off" from treatment (we get to go in at 10 instead of 8 am tomorrow. woop.) crying and saying very mean things to yourself and not getting anything done making yourself feel worse and then you hear the crowds all skipping to the bars and the gays laughing and the bass of the clubs and then you FEEL EVEN WORSE that you have no life and didn't go out because A. no one asked you to B. no one answered your lame efforts to have a social life and C. you would be a pill to be with tonight anyway.

Whew!

So long story short treatment today WAS THE BEST DAY YET. For serious.
I felt like I was hanging out with my girls all day. We even got to make our dinner, Fish cilantro lettuce wraps, cucumber salad and soba noodles. Bombskis.

The only hard part was writing down what the 'negative tape' says in our heads mine was that I am a fat ass, meaning literally my ass IS FAT. I can feel it now resting on top of my sausage thighs. I am sweating like a pig because my body is actually detoxing (who knew I was really fucking with it?) and can't shake the overwhelming feeling of hatred and failure.

The pants that used to hang off of me are so snug it's like as I said a sausage just encased. Sick. I turn around to examine my behind and burst into tears. Things that weren't there before are there now and for some odd reason that REALLY upsets me. The shame I have with gaining this much weight is unbearable and I don't know how to put into words what I'm feeling (hmmm maybe I shouldn't have a BLOG since all I do is have words).

But I called a friend and she reminded me that even though I've gained doesn't mean I'm fat. SHe's a sweetheart but I don't believe her. Of course it means I'm fat, if I was skinny they'd fit. But some part of me really wants to believe her. I'd be so much happier, life would be easier if it were that simple, I guess if it were that simple then I wouldn't spend a grand (yes a GRAND) a day on treatment. But she also told me that God made me this way and to trust my body. That helps.

The last thing that makes it kind of ok is that today I heard "don't fit into the jeans, find jeans that fit you."

For now I'll stick to dresses.

Good night, God bless.

Treatment : Day 5. ONLY 5! Dayum.

So I thought I'd just jump, dive, dig right into what treatment actually is.

Here goes.

I wake up at 6:30 AM get ready in appropriate clothing:

• no tank tops
• no shorts that go higher than your fingers (yes like in junior high)
• no revealing clothing (LIKE ANY PERSON WITH AN EATING DISORDER WOULD WEAR THAT).
• no shirts that have silhouettes or reminders of working out (I had to turn my Seahawks 12K shirt inside out yesterday. Looked soups cool)
• every coat / top with pockets has to be turned inside out at meal times (so we don't shove food in our pockets)

So I end up in sweats, thank God for yoga pants.

I run to my bus (standard) then go off to Bellevue. Arrive early (GASP! Me? EARLY?) and walk to the center (10 minutes?).

This is one of my favorite parts of the day. It's just gorgeous. Makes me present and appreciate life and all God has given me.

Then it's off to hell!

We check in and drop off our phones, computers, back packs everything which will not be seen all day until a 25 minute break.

Next is breakfast where a dietician tells us what to eat and how much-but we learn because we plate the portions ourselves. We aren't allowed to put "inappropriate" foods together or eat them with silverware if they don't think we should. We get 8 oz of water (so we can't make ourselves feel full). We get one napkin (so we don't spit food out).

Then we all (there's 8 of us currently) go and sit down at the table, say a positive affirmation then have A MINUTE OF JUST EATING IN SILENCE. This kills me. But also is very helpful, for the first time I'm tasting my food, I don't have the urge to just stuff myself and watch tv then go throw up. Which yes unless it was very restricted (only veggies and protein, none of the foods I'm scared of) this is how I would eat. Ever wonder what I was doing on a Friday welp that's it!

Then we go back and sit in our room. We have a home base for our age group which is like 19-30 year olds. This is where we usually journal, sleep, talk, read. I keep my snuggie there and a stuffed animal named Boobs but they made me rename him Boo.

Throughout the day it's full of counseling that's in a group, individual and work shops to help us break the connection from our ED's voice and our own. Also, there's two breaks (like 10 minutes to pee and walk outside...yes only 10 fucking minutes) and snacks in between each meal.

So peeing. We can't do it after a meal for obvious reasons we have to be escorted every time a half hour after we eat. We can only get water in the kitchen. We aren't allowed to walk around on our own. Always in a group and with a counselor. Oh also meals are with someone watching us at the table and someone "floating" so standing and watching us.

Oh and there's no dudes. Except one. Well that I've met so far. I didn't realize how testosterone deprived I was.

Meaning yes I'm single. I guess crazy scares off the guys.

So anyway I get to do this from 8 AM until 6:30 PM Monday through Sunday for the next 6 weeks. Yes that means I don't get weekends.

Yes that fucking sucks.

Welp I want to write more but this party pooper is going to bed.

Night.

Treatment: Day Suck or Four

Today is Cray-Cray Thurssssss-day.

Because today is YOU MUST EAT THIS FATTENING DESSERT IN FRONT OF COUNSELORS AND DIETITIANS IN 15 MINUTES THEN WRITE ABOUT YOUR FEELINGS day.

So some shit happened today. A dietitian (who is human I understand) served one of the girls an ice cream bar that didn't have the calories / fat /carbs blacked out (every nutritional information thingy is completely unreadable - for a good reason ha). So poor girl saw what we all fear most-the reality of what we are eating.

I got ballsy and asked for peanut butter chocolate ice cream. Which is my number one binge food. I eat that shit like it's fucking crack. And every time, every SINGLE time, since I was  about 19 I have thrown up after. Welp not today. YAY? Because my mind was saying fuck you you fucking fatty. But then it'd go...this shit is bomb. And I'd look up at the table and be present in the conversation we were all having and laugh as I took another bite and realized that I was just having ice cream with friends.

But it's so much more than that.

So some other shizz happened like we talked intensely after dessert which is like the last thing you want to do. SOMETHING TRAMATIZING JUST HAPPENED: LET'S TALK ABOUT OUR FEEEWINGS.

Fuck that noise. I want to rage in my head then hulk out.

I did no such thing. I did however talk about my feewings, like the little recovering bulimic anorexic that I am.

I said that I'm scared I enjoyed it, what does that mean? What if I like it and can't stop eating it? Food isn't supposed to be enjoyed rather controlled. I'm scared that I'll go home and binge since I've started eating these forbidden foods. (Mind you I have not :) and it's thanks to this outlet and you guys checking up on me!). I'm also slightly numb. Like I can't get as mad as I used to about eating this stuff, does that mean I'm recovering or giving up and just putting bad food in my body as a punishment? Also, I don't want to think about all the fat I ate (we had mayo, cheese, ice cream all in one meal) because I get anxious adn want to get rid of it NOW. So do I ignore it?

No. I learn ways to deal with these thoughts. I catch these negative words and names in my head and realize it's not me it's her. From there I'm still not sure what to do, because if I just say "you're not fat." I just go "ha yes you are." Hmm. Not productive.

On top of this my Granny is dying. She is going off dialysis. I haven't seen her since she found my puke spread out all over her floor after the dog got into it (I had thrown up in a trash can and didn't have time to get rid of it). She began to clean it up.

Ya. Let that sink in.

I told her that day of my struggles and she didn't know, she also didn't judge. It was that day my Tia and Granny helped me decide to start on this path.

That was two years ago.

Now she's barely living, barely EATING. And look at what I'm doing. ED says I'm disgusting and should be ashamed for my problem of bingeing and purging but this new voice aka my friends in treatment are telling me she'd want me here and to get healthy. So I'll go with that I guess.

Tomorrow's family forum. So I'll see my mom.

Yay?

Yay.

Treatment : Day THREEEEEE FOR ME

I don't know why I put the 'three for me' other than that's what I automatically say because of Kings.
Hmm look what I learned in high school.

So I'm chipper today. Well compared to the past two days that is.

So today at "work" I:

Had a fit on my way to the bus, missed the bus, was sweating and didn't want to take my coat off because I just KNEW EVERYONE was looking at me. Calling me fat. Because I am.

I got to "work" and this girl was chewing gum. Which A. we are not allowed to do and B. is fucking annoying because she was smacking her lips. I couldn't control my rage so I sat outside the door reading an inspirational book but not really I was just cursing her out. I didn't have the guts to bring it up to her in person so I tattled. HA!

Then it was breakfast time. That was ok. Minus that my swiss cheese looked like straight up FAT. ugh.

Then I had individual counseling ... THANK GOD. I got everything out from how I'm ashamed to be a bulimic in front of all these anorexics so now my anorexic mindset is kicking in. How I hate not being able to stand or walk. How I don't know what I'm feeling which makes me more pissed off. And about how I'm actually happy I'm there. For the first time I'm slightly open to the food as a good thing rather than a way to hurt myself or the enemy.

Then I went to art class! Yes, yes it is like an old people's home. I did a collage and it's awesome. It's of a rainbow and a bed. Totes artistic.

I had squash soup with chicken and carrots and orange and cheese stick for lunch ALL ORANGE FOOD. I spilled half of the soup on myself because I'm really classy so I had to eat Wheat Things to make up for it.

Then some other shit happened that I don't really remember. Took a personality test asking me just how much I hated myself basically. I think I passed that fucker.

We did a work group on how to deal with those feeewlings I have. I kind of listened.

And yea. Dinner happened. Salmon. Brussel sprouts. And pesto with noodles (whch I never eat. I made the mistake of checking the carb count at the grocery store. Now I'm rather mad I ate that much.)

Then we did some other shit and left.

I bussed it home. went to the gym in downtown Seattle which is awesome because it was empty, has BRAVO and E! and it's right next to my bus stop!

Now I'm home. I am supposed to eat a fruit and a protein. I'm going to eat green beans instead.

Progress not perfection.

Oh and you're supposed to not have electronics on 30 minutes or so before you sleep. Too bad I'm facebooking, doing this, on my phone and dubstepping it haha

you all are just ruining my sleep habits ;)

Good night. God bless - Kris

Treatment: Day Dos

We are mad and we don't know why which makes us more mad.
We have a headache because our body isn't used to eating normally.
We are exhausted because we just got home and left 12 hours ago.
We are upset because there's no where to hide all our weird habits and our intense feelings anymore. Everyone in treatment knows what we are going through because they feel the same exact way which is both fucking annoying to be analyzed and so comforting to not have to explain ourselves.
We ate beans, full fat cheese and a shit ton of carbs that we wish we hadn't but we did because supposedly we are brave.
We met out counselor today and felt stupid for not knowing how to put everything into words. We also had a fight with one of the counselors because she wouldn't let me sit in a certain position and because she wouldn't let us say we felt fat and hate food. They are taking all the fun out of it.
We are eating our night snack (which is ordered) and we don't want to and we are going to bed without working out and we feel worthless and fat.

We're going to watch Elf, because Christmas makes us happy.

Love,

Kris and her eating disorder

PS I'm thankful you're reading this and for your support.

Treatment: Day Uno

I don't want to write because I don't want to think about today.

I can't even organize my thoughts other than:

I hate treatment.
The girls are amazing.
And I'm not giving up because I know this is what's best for me in the long run.

They made us eat FRIED FISH AND FRENCH FRIES FOR DINNER. What.The.Fuck.
Supposedly no food is a 'bad food,' but there are 'fear foods.' And fried anything is something that scares the fuck out of me. But instead of turning the table over Real Housewives of NJ style, I asked to talk to a therapist.

I proceeded to tell her that they were bat shit crazy if they think they can surprise me with fried food and make me eat it on my first day. I am being as brave as I can but really?

Then I went on talking saying that I know what they are doing is probably good for me because they are like professionals, but I don't see it. I wanted her to know that I'm trusting them with my life and that they better not fuck up.

They control my calorie intake (I can't see how much is in what I'm eating) and that gives me so much anxiety. AND they control when I pee. AND I can't stand-only sit. AND we only get two breaks. AND I can't go on walks.

But anyway...I decided that eating the fried shit is good for me. People do it all the time-I usually just eat about 12 servings of it and puke it up. Grand. So this time I ate it (it was cold because it took me a while to muster up teh courage to do it) and it was gross and I could feel my jean size sky rocketing but I did it and even had the balls to put ketchup on the fries (usually scared of extra calories) so I could ENJOY my food.

And I fucking ate that fried fish. And booya!

I came home and worked out moderately and ate my stupid night snack even though I didn't want to.

I'm doing all of this because of you guys. And I'm for serious. Seeing how many people give a rat's ass about me (where on earth did that saying come from ? ) is amazing and if I can't do it for me now I'm going to do it for you and then I'll catch on.

Love, God bless,

Kris

Numb

I have never considered myself suicidal, but when thinking this morning I realized I'm slowly killing myself.

I haven't written because I've either been too hung over, too ashamed or too drunk. I also don't know where to start or how to organize my thoughts because frankly none of what's going on in my head makes sense and neither do my actions.

So let's try to make sense of this together.

I can say is that I'm self-abusing and I'm very good at it.

I feel I have lost all control and am grasping at strands and illusions to make myself feel better. I've been working out constantly to make up for the binging I've been doing and the drinking. I clean up thoroughly even when blacked out to make myself feel better about myself.

The thing is I thought I had hit rock bottom but I haven't put the shovel down yet. I watch myself dig deeper, go further, harder, longer and am amazed I can still get up in the morning and act like I'm ok. Then do it again. And again.

Thursday I went to a concert, Yeasayer, it.was.epic. For many reasons. AND I didn't get too drunk. Yay.

Friday. Different story I went out and chose to drink, last minute and didn't stop until about 5am.

I had fun but that night is a blur. I came to in my kitchen, eating whatever I could get my hands on and then throwing up.

I wasted all of my Saturday hung over until Jess called me and invited me to Avicii. I didn't want to drink and Jess was there to support me. I didn't drink I fucking raved and loved every second of it.

Success. God was there. I listened to him and made good choices.

Sunday I began drinking in the afternoon, I wanted to 'enjoy summer' feel normal. Alas I didn't stop. I went to a Bumbershoot after party where I stupidly stashed my purse. It got stolen along with my house keys, credit card, gym card, phone = life. On top of that the cop spoke down to me and was a complete dick. Then this other guy who was stalking me all night got in the cab with us and asked to sleep on my floor…I don't think he understood what "I don't have keys to my place and fuck off" means. Again I came home and eventually got into my place and I ate and ate and threw up.

Next day, final day of my bender. Monday, Bumbershoot. God was telling me not to drink. I meekly asked if I could drive my friend's car home so then I'd have a reason to stay sober. That was me asking for help, but not loud enough. She declined. I was free to have at. And I did. I don't remember most of the day and none of the music. I do remember coming to eating an entire roll of cookie dough. Then going to the store buying another eating that and then half of a coffee cake. I threw up cleaned up and slept 3 hours before heading into work.

I am scared, I am ashamed and I am exhausted. I almost gave up on God yesterday because I've felt he's given up on me. I don’t blame him either. Look at me. I don't trust myself. These little glimmers of hope I get, I know I will smash them with my habits. I don't know where else to turn and slowly I'm stopping caring about myself. Life isn't fun anymore. I'm numb to most feelings other than shame and fear. This is no way to live.

I haven't given up on God and I'm not sure why though. I keep praying and keep making healthy choices. I can't wait to go to treatment because this is my last effort at life. I don't know what I'm going to do if it doesn't work.