Intensive Outpatient: Thanksgiving

Dear Diary,

Yesterday was Thanksgiving. It. went. well?

So let's recap, from the beginning…

I woke up in my own bed in Seattle because I decided (after a fight where they told me I couldn't go see my friends if I came home the night before—yes I'm 14…apparently) that I needed minimal family time.

So my eyes open to my alarm at 8:30 and of course I check my phone. Facebook. I see that one of my best and oldest friends has had her baby girl.

I started crying. WTF?! I didn't see that coming. But it was a great way to start the day, what a good reminder of what's important not only on Thanksgiving but also in life.

I ate breakfast—gasp! You did what?

For those of you who don't eat breakfast before Thanksgiving that's just stupid. It makes your hunger fucked up, your metabolism confused and it's just not healthy. However "normal" it is, it isn't.

Then I think I watched like oh THREE episodes of Parenthood—I'm hooked.

Then I went to the gym. And I cut my workout short—WTF mate? Who am I? The day where you're supposed to stuff yourself with unnecessary calories and I'm NOT workingout for two hours? (That is exactly what I did last year—I went to the gym on an empty stomach and didn't leave until I hurt).

I raced home got changed and didn't do my hair, makeup or anything—I don't even think I stopped sweating honestly—yum—and went to catch my bus to Bothell.

I brought  my snack with me (because I switched snack with lunch since lunch was turkey dinner) and ate it while listening to two black women chit chat. Soups entertaining.

45 minutes later I'm looking at my dad in the car, correction—begging him in the car to take me to coffee. This was my first mistake, however a grande Americano and awkwardly silent car ride later I'm hyped up on caffine and life and bust into my parent's house to trip over my brother's laptop and onto the floor.

I couldn't shut up. Neither could my mother. What's new? Now that I'm able to see outside of myself and have perspective on my family I see how much we fucking talk. How one fights for attention and the other one bangs their chest louder. We can have 3 separate conversations going at once and still be watching the game. My anxiety skyrocketed.

My brother got out a beer—so I grabbed the wine. I thought it's ok, I want this, not ed but me. But after one I always want another and then after that one I don't know what this foreign word—stopping—means.

So, I'm surrounded by food, buzzing, high off caffeine—great recipe for a dinner? Eh. Not so much.

My appetite was surpressed immensely and I started freaking out that there was too much on my plate. I couldn't get through the meal. However, I called myself out, I wrote down the portions I missed and told my family about it.

But I'm getting a head of myself. I need to give my family more credit. Before we ate I asked them to not talk about calories, working out or diets while at the table. No mention of pounds or looks. Please.

I then told them about my meal plan and to watch me like a hawk.

They obliged and dinner really was pleasant. We got along. And like I said I was kind iof all over the place with happy stuff in my system so I was fine.

We clean up after dinner. They want dessert. I try some. It's ok.

Then we go to a movie.

By this time I think it's a good idea to have a beer. And take another one in my purse. Yes again I am 14.

So I do. My brother and I share it on the way there in the back of my parents' car. Totally bonding.

We get to the theatre and I need another beer. So I go on a mission. I find the nearest bar and buy my brother a beer, me a beer and then a 'water' as I jokingly called the PBR.

Yes, yes I see that this is an issue. But I'm just recapping. So bear with me.

We watch Skyfall and I only pee like 4 times. I drink plenty of water and eat my snack that I brought despite my mom being like wow you're hungry? (NO MOM I'M JUST FAT…is what ed says).

I sober up a bit before we go home but not before I call Cha Cha and try to be flirtatious but I think it was more um…drunk haha

We drive through the city and see the lights—MY FAVORITE THING.

And I get dropped off at home. And I'm overcome with the need to eat. So I figure out the prortions I missed and have a sammy.

Then I wash my face, watch one more episode of Parenthood, and go to sleep.

I wake up this morning filled with regret, embarrassment. Yes, yes I have had multiple people be concerned about me drinking and it's correlation with my binges and my disorder. I see it as a cure for my anxiety and I see that that's a bad habit to start. But that's just where I'm at now.

Let's look at everything else. I didn't fight with my parents. I didn't binge. I didn’t' throw up. I didn't restrict. I didn't workout excessively. I wasn't in my head the entire time. I HAD FUN.

The end.