A Year In Review

I'm really not feeling that nostalgic so my title is a joke.

I don't really know what happened this year besides me going downhill.

Now I'm going back up.

I found out my insurance (fuckingfuckerfucks) doesn't cover inpatient so I'm doing partial hospitalization at The Emily Program.

Most likely.

Knock on wood please.

Resolutions:

-stop buying tickets to every and any EDM show.
-get a second job when out of treatment.
-get a better first job when out of treatment.
-floss daily.
-be nicer to people.
-spell check my blog.

The end.

No One Wants A 25 Year Old Bulimic

Hi candy canes.

I'm in an especially good mood because it's Christmas Eve!

And there was a rumor we'd get out at noon. But it's noon oh one and I'm still sitting here at work. So of course I blog.

Update:

I am going back to treatment.

Two Mondays ago I walked into an INTERVENTION (what I thought was a girls night) with my 4 besties and another friend who had an eating disorder.

When I saw the chairs in a circle and water bottles my heart plummeted and I was like WTF. I think I said that out loud...multiple times.

What happens next is pretty private but basically I was given an ultimatum go to INPATIENT (meaning I live there) treatment in NYC (sometimes places give people with diseases / disorders free treatment if they participate in a study) or my best friends would not be in my life anymore. AKA I wouldn't have a life anymore.

So after this I freaked the fuck out.

I was mad. I was confused. I was sad. I felt betrayed.

These were the same friends who I finally got the courage to open up to and they were telling me I was doing well. Keep it up. You're doing great!

And then this?

And by freaked the fuck out I mean that I cried every other hour at work. I wasn't hungry then I was. I was fine then I felt extremely fat. I was calm then I wanted to throw a fit. It was like eating disorder overload.

I went to bed with texts from my friends and woke up to them, got them through the day. Was ok, had I looked into treatment, had I done my labs?

I went from trying to hold my miserable life together and enjoy it so all of a sudden being told I'm going to have to leave my job, my home and my life for this "free treatment facility'' in NYC.

I mean I already get really anxious when people text call me a lot and I'm trying to work but on top of that I was having to be interviewed by NYC for the program.

Just imagine midday having to leave your desk and go talk to someone about your deepest darkest secrets. Rehashing the sexual abuse. How you starved yourself for months. How you've gained so much weight. "What did that feel like?" "And when about was this?" "What weight were you at?"

So that on top of life was more than I could handle.

I skipped work on Wednesday.
Got shit faced on Wednesday.
Skipped work on Thursday.

Oh and throw in all of my friends and I meeting with my parents about how bad the situation has gotten Thursday night.

After having my adult tantrum I started to realize I DO need help and I DO need inpatient.

Then my boss slaps me with probation for missing too many days.
Fuck.

Then that Friday after countless hours interviewing and phone tag with NYC they tell me I'm not eligible.

While I felt betrayed at first by my friends I started to realize how lucky I am not to have just one person that really cares but five! I mean my own parents couldn't even do this for me.

And while my ED told me not to tell them anything else, because they'll just crack down harder on me, I didn't listen and I opened up more.

I cannot tell you how nice it has been to not have to hide this from them anymore. They answer every time I call. They try to understand and sometimes do.

So that all was a couple of weeks ago. I have checked into other free treatment places but they are only interested in 12 - 18 year old  anorexics. No one wants a 25 year old bulimic.

That leaves me with one option in Washington state. The Center For Discovery.

Currently I'm in talks with them and my insurance. So it's a waiting game. And of course no one is answering my messages or the phone. It's the holidays.

It's a little bit hard to know that I'm going to treatment but not there yet. It makes ED say do it this one last time....you'll get fixed later...they think you need treatment well then fuck it let's prove them right.

But also it's helped. I have tried harder than ever not to binge. I have spent time doing / making things for people. Calling them more. Caring about them (instead of myself). I have gone and done things I wouldn't usually take time to do because I feel as though it's my last for a while.

(I've taken so many videos of my cat. So many.)

This brings me to now.

Yesterday I stayed home from work. I cleaned. I cooked (if making a salad is called cooking). Put pictures up on my wall. Made my brother his Christmas present. Went to the gym and actually lifted weights. I realized this is what my life could be like every day.

But it didn't come without the constant fight of telling ED no we don't have to go eat BBQ chips and a pizza. No we don't need to stay on the cardio machine another 30 minutes. NO we don't look fat in those pants.

I'm looking forward to working my ass off to get a better life. One where these thoughts aren't constantly breaking up my day.

I'm looking forward to a life where going to work won't be a struggle. And I will have enough nutrition in my body to stay focused and not forget things.

I'm looking forward to WANTING to eat which currently I don't have. It's all or nothing at the moment.

I'm looking forward to wanting to cook.

I'm looking forward to a new life. The life I was always meant to have.

Merry Krismas kids.

Krismas

I have like 5 minutes until my laptop dies.
I MUST stop forgetting my charger at work.

I have decided. To try my hardest. More than I have ever tried before. To not binge / purge all of December.

Now you'd think I would have obviously been trying so hard most of my 'recovery' life to not do this...but it was always a forever goal. Never again will I ever...

But this time it's just for Christmas.

I was talking to a friend and he asked me what do I want?

It was a very open ended question and I couldn't think of the answer.

I have not really thought about my life, or a life, or what I want because I've been so clouded with ED for so long.

All I could say was not have an eating disorder anymore.

So that's what I'm going to try to give to myself this year.

I have not had a 'normal' Christmas time since I was 14.

Now I know there'll be food. There'll be tons of booze. Indulgence galore. But I would really really love a season where I am not on a roller coaster with food, my body, my health and my eating disorder.

Last night at midnight I was just wanting to hurt myself because I felt stupid after talking to a guy, my friend was upset with me and I was alone.

So I went to binge but I saw that it was in fact December 1st and so I just said no and went to bed.

This is really all over the place but I'll write more tonight or tomorrow.

Sorry if it doesn't make sense.

Lastly, after the fiasco that was my parents' house. And a passive aggressive text from my mom today. I have decided to cut them out of my recovery life.

They will not know the bad or the good. That topic is not their business. And I think it's best that way.

I can't stand taking any more time focusing on how to try to fix my relationship with them when I have so much support here with you.

God I'm crying again.

You all mean so fucking much to me. Here's to day one!

How Dare You.

"How dare you have the audacity to throw up or think about throwing up in this home?
After everything we have done for you.
After nine years of this Kristin..."

In this home?
This home where my cries for help were met with anger and hostility and excuses.

In this home?
Where my dad would pick on me. Not answer my questions. Act like he didn't hear. Look at me with disgust and disapproval when all the while it's he himself he hates.

In this home?
Where I thought I was safe.

In this home?
Where my two role models made cutting remarks at one another. Muffled voices raising louder and louder as I hide under my pillow.

In this home?
Where everything must have a coaster. Don't paint your nails there. You did the vacuuming wrong. You got the wrong bread. It's not what you said it's your tone of voice.

In this home?
Where I'd ask to go on a walk with you and you were too tired. Where I try to introduce you to new movies that you still haven't watched. Where I try to tell you what it's like to be me and what I need help with and I'm met with a blank face.

In this home?
Where I am scared to be myself. I am scared to be anything but fine.

Yes I am that fucked up mom that I can't help but throw up one of the most anxiety causing dinners for all bulimics, overeaters and anorexics plus fucking normal people.

"I don't understand how you can do that."

"Mom, I'm a BULIMIC. I have a MENTAL DISORDER."

"I shouldn't have come home, it's not the  best place for me."

"How dare you say we are not a loving home."

"I didn't say that, it's just in treatment I wouldn't be met with anger, I would be met with understanding."

"I'm just mad you lied about not trying to throw up."

Could you imagine what would happen if I dared tell you the truth?

We calm down. Part ways.

Dad asks me like nothing happened to take out the recycling.

...fuck you.

Unwanted Memories.

I am relieved I am home.
I want to curl up in a ball, cuddle with my cat, reflect on the night.
I was brave tonight. I didn't leave when my support system did.
I stayed and tried to make small talk and friends.
I drank more to feel comfortable.
I wasn't out of control.
I saw the kid that was so nerdy and so 'in love' with me and then I was embarrassed to talk to him. I was no longer the girl from HS. I was fat. I had no status. I was just me.
I made new friends and one of them drove me home.
I felt safe. I think he wanted more at the end. I didn't.

Now I'm stripping down. Getting ready for bed. Much needed sleep. So much for that workout in the morning.

And all I can think of is him.

He touched what wasn't his.
He ruined something pure.
I hate him.

I can barely move fast enough to pull on my top as though I'd be seen by him but it's impossible.

Still my mind wanders.

What if he walked in?

As my top is off and my breasts are free. What would he do.

I feel this overpowering urge to hit something. To fight back. To protect myself.

There's nothing that I need protecting from.

It's all in my head.

I live in this fear, this constant nightmare of being seen, being used, being innocent.

I wish it never happened.

I wish I knew what intimacy was and how to show love.

I watch movies and tv and get confused as to what is sexy. What is desirable. What do I want...what do they want?

I'm more fucked up than I thought.

Shouldn't love be simple?

One body moves with the other. You don't think you just feel.

I'm Full And So Hungry

Just finished a normal dinner.
ED is disgusted that I ate everything I am supposed to.
I have been home sick all day and the most exercise I've had is walking up and down the stairs to sleep.

My dad just walked in and I had to rewind the news to try to figure out WTF they were saying AGAIN.

"Did you get the mail like I asked?"
"I didn't know you asked me to."
"Fine. I'll get it."
Slams door.

Immediately my mind goes. OMG He's on a walk. I should walk. I haven't exercised. I feel fat...
The urge to get up and move and burn calories takes over. I can't sit here and type this much longer.

But I need to recognize that the only reason I want to walk is because my dad upset me. Talked down to me.
Not because I truly want to exercise.
My mind just goes there to cope.

Being here reminds me of the cutting remarks and the child-like behavior that I lived with my entire life. It doesn't help.

I had texted my dad asking him to pick up Sprite and Jello on his way home since my throat really hurts. He goes "Ok I'll just take the money I spend out of your checking account."

Now I may be being a brat but ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? I have had to move back in with you because I am so depressed, so desperate and drowning in debt and you can't buy me fucking Jello?

They'll put money toward an $800 new faucet but when I'm telling them to their faces that I am sad. I need help. And I can't afford it. The offer to help pay doesn't come up.

It's just like when I was in high school and finally asking for help. Trying to tell my mom about my anxiety and these thoughts. And she would shut me down. Tell me to cut it out. To stop being so selfish.

I told my mom I wanted to go to an energy healer (I think that's right). She just looks at me blankly.

"Well I think it'll help. I've tried other things. She can give me direction. It worked for multiple of my friends. I wanted to ask for it for Christmas."

"How much is it?"

"100 or more?"

Looks back at her computer.

As much as I wish it, it seems like somethings may never change.

So I also tried looking up therapists and dietitians today. Most of them are a 40 or more minute bus ride from my office. Which is just like my old commute and mostly why I stopped going.

The other therapists I found that are close are not in a network so I would pay out of pocket.

However with how little I make at my current job I can't afford a twice a week therapy dietitian thing.

But in order to get a new job I need more experience and my current job won't give me more experience and responsibility because I don't show up because of my bulimia...so...it's a circle.

I can't seem to get out of it.

I need a lucky break. A new job. A cheaper therapist. My parents to help out. I so desperately want to change and work to get healthy but I feel trapped.

Lastly, ChaCha and I are on a break  / broken up whatever you want to call it.
So I'm also losing one of my best friends. But I can? can't? be that sad becauase I'm mostly the one who wants it to end. Or I feel like it needs to. I won't go into details but it's pretty much over (he's abroad so we've only been able to text...sigh) so I'm mourning that too.

Sorry to be so depressing but I have every right to be. I just can't get stuck in it though.

So as always gratitude list:

That my parents let me stay here.
That there's a bus to Seattle near their house.
That I have a big support system.
That an interview I had today was able to be rescheduled.
That I have contacted three therapists.
It's ALMOST Thanksgiving!

So...I Moved Back In With My Parents.

Hi kids.

Checking in.

I'm not doing so well-still. 

I'm staying at my parents to help stop the BP cycle. Today will be the first full day I haven't done it in months. So that's good.

The fact that my mother drives me fucking crazy and she doesn't understand at all what it's like to have an ED and my dad is as emotional as a table...doesn't help. But I have my cats.

I don't know why I'm so sad one moment and then the next I'm mad.

I am like a junior high girl getting picked on at school. I run to the bathroom to hide my tears every other hour.

I just want to feel better / at least not like this so, my ED thoughts have come back. Like full force. I skimped on breakfast. Hated myself for eating lunch. And felt out of control when I was eating trail mix for a snack. Each peanut, chocolate, raisin (for goodness sakes) I regretted. 

What am I doing? Why am I eating? I have so much weight to lose. This isn't going to help.

I even had the thought that I have to lose weight to prove to work that I really am sick again so they won't fire me.

I forced myself to workout after work but I think I would explode with irrational anger when I got home if I didn't. But I did feel sexy and strong while doing so. 

However sick thoughts came flying through my head.

You're all about to learn how shallow I am. Er ED is (trying to separate the two).

My favorite ... their favorite thing to do is to picture myself as a gogo dancer. Yes that's right. All sexy and slim but fit. And tan oh so much spray tan. With big hair. Gorgeous makeup. Amazing costume. And I'm on stage and I'm free.

I can dance. I can listen to my favorite music. And best of all I look good. Damn good. And everyone loves me. Everyone wants to either do me or be me.

THAT is my dream. THAT is all I want.

WHAT a lame ass goal. But that's what ED wants. And thinks would make me happiest. And I'd just ride my life on that high forever.

When I go to shows I dress up in my costumes with my fake confidence (sometimes it's real though) and pretend that this is my real life. That I go with the flow. That I'm just here to have fun. To enjoy. That I don't give a fuck.

But it's not true. It's so opposite.

But I can't blame myself for wanting to escape because for whatever reasons (well I guess I know what they are. Important relationships are falling apart, I'm trapped in my work and I'm losing control of my recovery..er lost.). And all I know or can think of to do is either drink, binge, or exercise. Because nothing else seems to let me feel better or not feel.

I have been holding it all in. I'm so afraid of what will happen if I let it go. I don't even know what IT is though. I'm not sure what's wrong other than I feel wrong. Sad. Mad

But then I'm just avoiding it. My friend reminded me of that today. And she's right. But I want to pretend that recent events didn't happen and they aren't happening. I'm too scared of what will happen if I let them in if I give them weight and truth.

In a life, the life I want to live I know that everything will need to be seen and felt. I would wear my heart on the outside.

My friend sent me this letter that another woman wrote to her ED. She was breaking up with it. And this really inspired me.

"When we were asked to describe ourselves as others see us, the words “fat” and “gross” were not among those used. It is time to remove those words from my vocabulary. It is time to end this book, finally, and begin another. It is time to say goodbye." 

I guess I couldn't have read this at a better time because Ed has been VERY loud. Loud like it used to be loud.

But I know when I'm being disordered and I just have to do the opposite. To tell that thought that it's wrong. That it's not true.

I'm kind of watching MNF while writing this so I hope it makes some sense.

As always I can't thank you all for reaching out to me. If anything I'd love to hear what you're going through. I'd love to get out of my own head and stop thinking about myself for once.

My friends have been great and they now know just how ugly I am inside but they have been nothing but supportive.

OK I'm going to look up nutritionists because one of you lovely (I mean that) people are texting me to do so.

Sexual Tension.

We're on the carpet.

The window shines the morning light on your face.

You roll over, turning your back to it's offensive demeanor.

With the movement your tee inches up to reveal the definition in your back.

My eyes can't help but notice your shoulder's muscular curve.

I want to trace them with my fingers then grab a hold.

My stomach drops and my heart races. 

What would you do if I crawled over to you.

Laid behind you.

If I got close enough to brush your hair with my cheek.

If I breathed behind the spot where your skin is sensitive from lack of touch.

Could I give you goosebumps with my lips while I pull your hair gently.

Would you turn over and grab onto my curves with desire. 

Pull me closer causing me to lift my leg over yours.

How long could I last in this tension that's as intimate as sex before giving in to your parted lips.

Would I close my eyes or keep them open to watch your reaction.

Could I keep from smiling out of the embarrassing intensity of it all.

Would you say anything. 

No.

I would say something stupid.

We'd laugh.

I'd feel my nerves fall away and a flush of excitement come over me. 

A physical craving that shuts off my inhibitions.

So I just move. 

I just do.

Every Little Thing Is Going To Be Alright

I'm singing that. OUTLOUD to myself right now.

Don't worry. About a thing.

Ok cheesy but I have been in such a low place that this whatever it is feels like the best shit ever.

I feel like I can do this. Like I can be ok. Like I can have a new life.

A new life where I don't have to take out my trash can full of puke before friends come over.
A new life where I don't have to take out my trash can full of the boxes of food I ate before friends come over.
A new life where I don't have to make up at the gym for what I did last night.
A new life ... what no not new life ... I don't want a new one ... I have the makings for a fine one right here. I want an IMPROVED life.

So I just talked with my friend who is 30 bomb blonde and so wise beyond her years. She's like the big sister I never had and my idol. I got the guts to ask her to talk about everything that's going on. (Some things have happened that I haven't shared with you all) And she totally put my mind at ease. Made things seem easier, more hopeful, like I have a direction.

And actually that's how I feel after any one of you message me. Suggest advice. Talk. Text. Call.

I feel a spark of hope and then I ride that for  a bit until I hit another down...

And in the past I have stayed down but now I'm getting the courage to ask for help and you're giving it to me. You people are not as mean, judgemental, disgusted by me as I thought and I really appreciate it.

I was able to talk to another friend about food and exercise and tell her all of my confusion I've had for two months and start to sort it out.

Lord this isn't making sense. I'm just so damn happy that I don't want to throw food down my throat...that I want to throw food down my throat. HA.

BUT tomorrow I'm going to Pretty Lights and Odesza and ain't nobody got time to be tired when that's happening.

So I wanted to write and tell you guys that all day all fucking day I have held back tears and now after talking I don't want to. So I guess I should keep doing this talking thing.

So anyway I guess it will just really take a day by day hour by hour thing to help me not binge. And I'm ok with that because that's how life should be lived anyway.

Night.

How Am I?

Many of you ask this to me on a daily basis. Whether you want just the basics, to know what's currently on my mind or you mean like seriously--how are you?

I am not very good at honestly answering this question.
I have not written or truly answered it for what feels like forever.
I've been living in a numb state.
And while that sounds dramatic when I really look at my actions and my life and everything it's true.

There are definitely ups. I mean I'm still having a social life. Something good at work. I hang out with my cat. But mostly I think if I really thought about it it wouldn't be so good.

So together we are going to really think about it.

I have been bingeing and purging 2-4xs a night. Every night.
I am sick once again from me killing my immune system.
I do not want to go to work.
I do not want to workout.
I do not want to eat normally.
I do not want to look at myself in the mirror.
I do not want to leave my house.

I have depleted all of my savings on food and treatment. I have nothing left. I'm living paycheck to paycheck for the first time in my life and its not a big paycheck.

It gives me great anxiety. But I cared so much for so many years about money and savings that I immediately reject any kind of rules around money.

Me: "no coffee today!"
Friend: "want coffee?"
Me: "yes!"

Balls.

Also I'm looking at food this way too. I do not know how to eat a normal dinner anymore. Nothing-NOTHING looks appetizing. And I'm also afraid to eat for fear of binge...which I figure will come anyway so I give in. What I now have to eat in order to be full enough to throw up is. 3 mini pizzas. A bag of chips (yes the family size). A container of those ready to make biscuits. And usually 12 donuts. I have my go to foods that I know I can eat fast and throw up and that are cheaper.

Lately though it hasn't been coming up. And then I'm scared shitless of everything I ate. Then I hate myself more.

Oh and that brings me to the fact that I was weighed yesterday. 153 lbs. Fuck. Fuck me. That number. My thighs. My belly. Fuck me.

But then as soon as I try to get back into the gym habit I reject that too. I can't force myself to do it. I don't want to live by those rules again. Where I restrict all day. Ditch friends to go to the gym. Push myself harder as I tell myself just 10 more minutes.

So as you can see my thinking is fucked.

BUT at work it's so fucking busy that I can barely find time to go on a walk let alone look for therapists. But it's so apparent I need one.

My friends even sat me down to say they are worried. "I can't be that bad--can I?"

"Tomorrow, tomorrow I'll try harder."

Today is my tomorrow and I just finished bingeing. Threw some tater tots in there-they were not as good as I expected.

I don't really know where I'm going with this. Oh standard blog style for me means up next is what's going right.

I HAVE been able to fight and go to work mostly every day.
I HAVE been able to make my personal training appointments where I start to feel strong and hopeful again.
I HAVE been able to open up my circle of trust (God that sounds so cheesy) and ask for help from friends.
I HAVE a list of therapists and went to the doctor yesterday who gave me some more dietitian names.
I HAVE gotten in touch with a friend about church and am going to try the higher power route.

And I keep having this confusing thought-what if life was meant to be enjoyed? What if all of my decisions could be made on that? And not like oh right now enjoy but what if I write my blog post and then later I feel better and get some support from you all? What if I push myself to go to work every morning so I'm not at risk of losing my job? What if I say no to the extra 20 minutes at the gym so I have energy tomorrow? What if I don't binge tonight so I'm not depressed the next day?

But then all of these rules and thoughts and anxiety get in the way. And I get so confused.

So I hope this makes sense to you because well it makes sense to me.

Basically it sounds like I'm lost and I really need direction and some hope which I think will only come from a customized recovery plan. Soon to come. Promise.

Bleh Puking is Gross

I haven't done an update since well I did one last.
I just finished throwing up twice.
I hurt.
Like I'm kind of curled up right now typing.
But I have an overwhelming urge to write.
Here's an update.
I'm drinking again. Alcoholism is a self-diagnosed disease. So if I say I have it I do and if I say I don't well I don't (kind of).
I know my drinking was a big issue, there's no denying that, and there's no saying I'm 'cured' but after my trip to NYC where I let booze back into my life I haven't wanted to take it out.
I think I can learn to control it. Drink responsibly. Just like I can learn to 'control' food. Eat responsibly.
I since I started drinking again I've moderated and I've just gotten drunk.
It hasn't been like the last times but it's no where near perfect moderation.
I'm finding though that as my mind turns to needing something I say no to alcohol especially when I'm alone. I like that I'm doing this.
I have a Seahawks game on Saturday with ChaCha. His first American game! No footie here you Spaniard.
Anyway.
And last year I went to a game and prefunked at oh 10 on the bus by myself and got shit faced. Don't remember a damn thing and made a fool out of myself.
I'm very much looking forward to that not happening this time around.

Another thing is I left The Moore Center. I just couldn't bring myself to go anymore. At first it was pride and then I started sliding backward so then it was shame that kept me away. Neither my therapist or nutritionist seemed to care (no emails / calls) so I really couldn't bear to ask to go back. But that is a stupid grudge / embarrassment I've created in my mind. I'll make amends when I'm ready.

So now I'm on the search for a new therapist and dietitian on the hill. I have an appointment this Monday and a dietitian reached out to me after I never confirmed an appointment.

I really wish I was fixed. I wish I was better. I feel like I'm worse than I was a year ago and I'm so ashamed. So fucking ashamed. Why are others getting it and I'm not?

I also feel more ashamed when people tell me they are proud of me and how hard I'm working when currently I'm really just giving up and giving in. I BP multiple times a day every day. I just today started trying to stop by calling friends, shopping, walking my cat (yes that's right) but as soon as I stopped trying it hit me. And then I did it again.

Here I am once again wishing I hadn't. Feeling sick. Full of shame and remorse and hate yet empty inside.

I really can't tell you how much I appreciate those of you who still check in on me. And to my girl friends who constantly try to understand and who show me they care. I really need it and I'm so sorry I'm not better, not better as in not sick but just a better person. That I can't seem to try harder. That I can't get it. I'm hoping that this is a low I never have to feel again. And hopefully the only way from here is up.

Love.

The Face of Bulimia

I was talking to a friend today about how we get jealous of our friends, coworkers and colleagues from facebook.

Of course we mostly look perfect (even if it is a silly picture), we tag ourselves at only the cool places, and do status updates that beg congratulations or at least a zillion comments about how "Mondays totally suck."

And I am guilty of this. I mean who isn't? It's not like we think our life is facebook-we know there's bad and the ugly too. But it's not out there. Which is why I think my blog is so popular.

And now what I'm about to show you isn't to get more readers, make my stats go up--whatever. What I'm about to show you is incredibly private.

No one has ever seen me binge and purge. It's been my secret for years and is slowly unfolding as I recover.

I just finished eating 9 muffins and 12 pancakes plus a yogurt (to help it come up easily) while watching Netflix. I ignored a text from my boy friend and a call from my mom (it's her birthday). My bedtime was 30 minutes ago seeing how I have to be at work at 7 AM and go to four meetings, finish my normal workload, apply for other jobs, go to an AA meeting, go to a personal training session and then dinner with my man and then another AA meeting.

This is my life it's its most honest, true, raw form. I have this fulfilling meaningful life with people I love and support and then I come home and I have my secrets, my shame and my eating disorder.

Last thing I'll say is that it always surprises me who reads this and who is kind enough to reach out to me. I am risking coworkers, ex boyfriends, my current man, aunt, mom's best friend, and future employers seeing this. But I feel more compelled to show you all the many faces of me. This is not who I am because I am not bulimia but it most certainly is a part of me. And maybe if it's out there and it's not so secret it can't have this hold on me. This shame.

Here is me on my best day:

And here is me now, after a binge:

You can see how swollen my face is from leaning over the toilet. My lips my nose even. And my jaw has started to get stuck open and swollen right next to my ears which freaks the fuck out of me but not enough to stop.

I'm not sure what I want out of this post--selfishly it's for me. So expose my ed and say that even though you see this---this thing that I become during a binge--that doesn't mean that's who I am. That doesn't mean you won't like me. The shame and secrecy is gone. It's all out there for anyone to see. It now holds no more power over me.

Ass Grabber

A year ago yesterday I met ChaCha.
I remember the day so well because it was the last Saturday I went out before going to treatment at The Moore Center (for eating disorders).
I'd like to tell you about how we met:

I was hung over from the night before and drinking a mimosa while watching the Seahawks game with some friends. I had invited some dude from the night before over to watch part of it-so awkward. He left for his job at Pagliacci's and I went back to focusing on myself.

How mad I was at the amount of money I spent out last night. That I binged when I got home. That I was drinking again when just a quarter ago I was swearing the stuff off. I tried to act engaged while at the bar-trying to pretend I didn't have this nagging anxiety in the back of my mind that I couldn't yet force off because my buzz hadn't kicked in.

I felt alone and lost. And had no hope. Just that I was kind of going through the motions and I didn't give a fuck what I did to myself next. I had hit a pretty low bottom. I couldn't stop drinking. I couldn't stop seeking male attention. I couldn't stop going to the gym. I couldn't stop eating. I couldn't not do anything in excess. And I couldn't stop hating myself. Treatment was on the horizon and I really was regretting not being skinnier before I went in.

As you can tell my priorities were fucked. I was fucked.

During the third quarter I get a text from a number I don't recognize. It says "Hi bella."

Uh. What? I show my friend and we laugh. Who says that?

I text them back something like "Who is this?"

They tell me their name and I still do not have any idea who it is, but I'm having  a sinking feeling in my stomach it's someone I made a total ass out of myself in front of.

And well. I was right.

Not remembering a guy with his name I ended up having the mysterious texter send a picture of himself to me. It was this awkward photo taken as though he just held the phone in his lap and looked down into the camera. All I could see was a beard.

"OH MY GOD-Him." I was brought back to a very dimly lit Cha Cha (the name of the bar) and my hands grabbing the face of a stranger to make fun of his beard. And then leaving. And that was it.

We go on texting a bit and I see something is off.

His English is weird but for some reason he's INSANELY polite. How am I? Did I have fun last night? What am I doing?

I give into my obsession with the movies about love being true and that the one could be anyone at any time so I give him a go.

We talk every day for a little bit. He always says good morning and he always calls me Bella.

The night before our first "date" he sent me a link of his old screamo rock band. I remember being like "is this dude for real?" So weird.

The next night we went to Unicorn, I wanted to be all bad ass and go to a cool bar. He comes up to the hill on his motorcycle (cool points) and shows up in an Abercrombie sweatshirt (lost cool points). I make fun of it. He doesn't understand me and then tells me his parents got it for him.

We walk to The Unicorn and he has to repeat himself every couple of sentences. I find out he's from Madrid and his English needs work. So naturally it was a wonderful idea to take him to a loud dark bar so I can't see his expressions or even try to read his lips while he's barely audible over the music.

I ask him about how we met, since I cannot remember. He proceeds to tell me that I grabbed his butt and then made fun of his beard. He asked for my number because he "I don't know I was just really drunk" and I ran away into the night after that.

CHARMING.

After a drink or two (me with the two him with the half a beer) we walk home. He goes to kiss me. And I'm all like uh no. I am not that person when I'm sober. (I realize now he was just doing the kiss cheek thing all of those fancy Spaniards do). I leave feeling offended he tried to pull a move.

The next morning I wake up to a "Happy Friday!" text. Giving me a weather report about how it's supposed to rain. And he hopes I have a nice day.

And I've pretty much gotten a text like that from him every day since.

Since ChaCha has come into my life I have learned to take things day to day. I have found out that someone will like me for being me, the good and the bad. I found that ED and alcoholism doesn't mean I can't have a healthy relationship. I found out that he cannot say "Tupperware or giraffe" very well. I learned more about the Spanish culture and that there are a ton of them in Belltown. I have found that I call him just to hear his voice. I have memorized what his hand feels like in mine. I can tell when he's had a bad day at work or what joke will make him laugh. I have also learned to stress less and "be more positive" (I can hear him saying that in my head).

I don't think I can properly grasp how much my man means to me in a blog post especially when I'm too lazy to reread it. But ever since I grabbed his ass in that bar I have been a much happier me and I'm so thankful for that.

...
So he just calls me and asks what I'm doing. I tell him I'm blogging. I ask him if he knows what it's about and in the girliest more sarcastic voice he goes "about our one year meeting-ohhhh aww so sweet." What an ass! He's totally right. That's exactly what I'm writing about and he's 'making fun' of it. So I shoot back "Oh fuck you. I'm writing about cats you jerk."

Ah true love.

I'm Being A Total Brat

I just realized I'm acting like a 5 year old.
Not that I'm around many 5 year olds but I think that's what they act like. Hm maybe more like a 7 year old.
Like I'm in that annoying phase where I just piss everyone off and I've lost all cuteness.

I can't stop moving around. I'm fidgety and feisty. I have been shaking my leg nonstop for like a week.

I want to make others feel as bad as I do.

I stayed at work until 8ish last night and I just HAD to tell my coworker that left early all about it. I wanted to make him feel bad that for once he took a break (when in reality he works as hard as I do and shows up to work on time).

But no I had to rub it in his face that he not only felt early, but he didn't stay to enjoy the BBQ I planned with the rest of the "Fun Committee" team. So rude.

Another reason I stayed so late last night was because I had come in late that morning.
I was late because I decided to throw up my oatmeal. Eat some more and do it again. And again.

When I got on my bike to race to work by 10:30 AM I felt free. I had left that little place I call home that's like a cage with me and my food and my hatred and my desires. As soon as I got out I realized that life is out there. I could go act like a normal person.

But then as soon as I got to work its like the doors closed on my cell again. There was more food and more stresses and more people. So I went to work, all day and late into the night. And by went ot work I mean I did my job like a boss but I also did not give into my binge desires. Even with free food all around plus a bbq and no one watching me.

And I fought hard-well that is until I didn't.

I got home and felt the need for SOMETHING-anything. Let me get out of this anxious feeling. Let me do something about this anger I have at work for makig me stay until 8 at night.

So naturally I ignored my small protests and went to the store.
I fought with myself back and forth, longer and harder than I have in a while but I gave in and ate a bazillion pancakes and got rid of them.

I felt calm. I felt better. But I also felt well sick. Sick of this. This is no way to live.

I prayed.

Then I had this idea to shower and as I did I asked God that he wash away my binge desires, my selfishness, these urges, this wicked disease.

I awoke ready to be at work on time and get shit done. Now I think I can make my new addiction work--we'll see how long this goes.

I awoke determined to have that free feeling again where I am not held down by the chains and rules of ED.

Then that vigor and fire to do right dwindled (yes in less than ten minutes)...my mind started to feel sorry for myself. Poor me that I'm so helpless over my bulimia. That I just can't fucking stop. That my work stresses me out so much no wonder I don't want to show up. No wonder I am tired all the time. No wonder I binge and purge as soon as I'm home because I want escape.

But am I really that different from anyone else? Yes I have a disease but I'm not the only one stressed.

AND something that's really just pissed me off is that I am on probation for missing so many days because of being out sick from bingeing and purging. So I can't miss anymore days but NOW they are upset that I'm not coming in on time. And while yes that's legit does anyone see HOW LATE I STAY? How I do do my work when I'm here?

And I'm pissed that I can't get a fucking raise after two years of being here because of my attendance but I have a fucking true deadly legit disease?!

Is this alright to be upset about?

My mind is racing back and forth from no no no say the serenity prayer to FUCK THEM ALL!

#crazy.

Wasted.

I realized the only time I deal with what I'm feeling is when I write in here because otherwise I just avoid it by watching Friday Night Lights or bingeing or both.

I was doing well for four days. Feeling like I had really changed. Was on the right track when. BAM. Friday night I did it. And so Saturday I tried not to but my anti puking skills were down from the day before so I just lost control again.

I was just standing in the aisles of QFC trying to find the latest and greatest food to eat. Since none of the other ones, even my best go-tos cut it anymore.

I got home and forced down three boxes of cereal. Ended up with a massive headache and didn't get out of bed until 8 PM.

This is kicking my ass.

But it's so hard to pul out of this when I'm in it.

It's a cylce. I've typed that so many times and even now, as I type out how much it sucks, just talking about it makes me want to do it. Again.

It makes no sense!

I feel ashamed and embarrassed that I was supposed to have a super productive cool weekend by working PAX and going to Bumbershoot and I got so sick I couldn't do either.

I bailed on friends.

I hate myself for doing it but obviously ed just makes itself more important.

Right now I could go wash my sheets, go donate clothes, figure out how the fuck to use mint.com. Apartment hunt. Paint my nails...and yet eating pancakes is what I'm likely to do.

BUT I have planned to go to an AA meeting tonight with a friend so I can't bail. AND I am planning on working all day tomorrow at PAX and then see Bassnectar after.

Not all will be lost to this. I can pull out of this. I have in the past and I will now.

So I Bought Some Pancake Mix.

I have had a long day.
I was at PAX this morning at 6:45 AM with my fake eyelashes on ready to charm some gamers.
Then when my short whirlwind shift of meeting a ton of people that have all worked together before in an overwhelming electronic environment I went to my real job and pushed through 9.5 frustrating hours of something to do every time I finished something else.

I was very very tempted to binge at that point. I had a whole box of cereal. I could just eat it all. Not have to focus on my work or the stress...just eat and get a high off it being secretive. But I didn't because I remembered that this feeling will pass.

I get home around 6:45 and know I have a meeting to go to for AA that I didn't go to last week because I was sick from bingeing and I don't want to go now because I just got a note that my rent is going up $80 and I feel trapped and like everything is pulling at me and I have no control. I want to sit and eat as much salad as I can because that's the 'safe' way to binge. I don't have the courage to tell anyone in my AA group I'm not coming-so I don't.

I then proceed to try and back out of my other plans I have that night. A birthday party in Ballard.

It's with my best girl friends at a really awesome place but I don't want to go. I'd rather hide. My anxiety is through the roof. I'm not sure if I'd drink if I went out. It sounds nice. But what happens if I stay home? Do I binge?

And then I think more about going out. I always feel in adequate. My friends are just gorgeous. Always get hit on. Have a cool confidence about them. And I just don't measure up. The thought of me having to be the ugly girl in the group, the odd one out scares the fuck out of me.

So I bail.

But they don't let me.
And I'm glad.

All it took was the two of them saying they understand but they'd like to see me anyway. They challenged Ed. In a way it was saying yes you feel that way but you don't have to keep feeling that way. you don't have to act on those thoughts.

Oh. I though. Oh ok.

And to see that someone cared. Someone actually wanted me around. THat I could be a PART of the gorgeous hilariousness that are my friends was so flattering-how could I say no?

So I changed my outfit too many times. Paid $30 taxi fare and went out.

I was welcomed warmly.

And then as my nerves settled I found myself talking and making people laugh. Engaging in conversation...not feeling on the outside but like I belonged.

THIS this is why I love these girls. Why as jealous of their looks as I am I admire them more. Who they are, how they treat people and how they treat themselves.

We ended up going to a bar bar and it was loud and no fun. My anxiety skyrocketed. I'm not sure why but I couldn't focus or calm my nerves.

My friends drove me home just in time for my bedtime. They went way out of their way to do this and what do I do?

I get home and turn around and go to the grocery store.

I don't know why but I feel I need something.
I get to the store and fill my cart with hate, doubt, insecurity and shame aka cereal and pancake mix.

WTF am I doing? Did my friends just not totally show me the help I've been wanting and what do I do? Throw it all away? I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. You're fucking stupid. You're going to have to tell them the truth and then they'll never want to deal with you again.

But here I am with the pancake mix still in it's box. The cereal was never bought. And I'm blogging. I'm not eating and I'm very much looking forward to my bed.

I'm sleepy. Good night.

I Would Like To Eat a Box of Cereal.

This is really hard.

All I have to do is NOT over eat and throw up.

There are plenty of other things to do.

Like watch the stupidfucking Oakland Raiders get stomped by the Seahawks.

My nails.

Look for a cat.

Look for an apartment that allows cats.

Shower.

Do my dishes.

Watch Netflix.

Sit...

And yet all I want to do is eat the cereal I bought-eat all of it-and throw up. Well mostly I just want to eat it. I don't really want to throw up. It isn't easy like it used to be. And I feel like butt hole the next day after throwing up. And then I waste money. And then I'm mad at myself. And there are people who can't even afford cereal and I just want to throw it up.

Oh shit. AND I just spent $800+ on personal training for the next three months which makes me want to just scream for joy and in fear.

I'm doing this so I can hopefully be more in touch with my body. How it works. What is actually good for it. What is not. And mostly to see how 'normal' people workout. I have all these ideas of what cardio machines are best. How much cardio I MUST do. What doesn't work aka everything that's not on a cardio machine. All of these disordered / confused American 20 something girl thoughts and I want to set them right.

So my first sesh is on Tuesday. 

I also shouldn't binge because I work PAX tomorrow morning and have to be there at the crack of dawn. I have to be on my game. Then I have to work at real work. Then possibly workout. Then go to a meeting. Then go out with friends for a friends birthday.

Sorry Ed but I got shit to do.

Day four. Down. Well almost down. (pun not intended).

3 Months Sober!

While I've had a hell of a time with the eating disorder I'm happy to say that by the grace of God I haven't had any alcohol for three months. This is of course after the Sasquatch drinking binge that ended in total embarrassment and shame. But I'm happy that I hit that low so I could feel this high.

And I think that's what I'm doing now with bulimia. (or at least I really hope so). For the first time that I'm aware of it I'm giving myself multiple reasons to NOT over eat and throw up rather than the opposite.

And for the first time EVER I am wondering why is it that I care so much about being thin? What does that even mean? Why does it matter?

I can answer that though. It makes my life 'easier.'
It makes girls jealous of me and like me.
It makes people ask if I'm a model.
It makes people ask what my diet and workout routine is (aka starvation / hell)
I can wear just about anything except for a bra (i get flatter than a fucking pancake when I get skinny).
And it makes people think I'm attractive so therefore they like me and then that's my ultimate goal.

All of this was to not be rejected. To not be hurt.

Because so much of my past from the molestation to the teasing to the bullying was all so painful and excrutiating that I put up my wall against it-controlled the one thing I could-my looks.

I'm off to an AA meeting (in a half hour...I need to do my "natural" make up and find an outfit that says "I don't care" when I totally do. I'm going to be on time for once. And I can't wait to announce I have 90 days.

Loves.

Two Days Down.

I said I'd write in here every day so I'm going to do just that. But as fast as I can because I'm eating dinner.

I didn't binge or purge last night. And I am so thankful for the cycle to be stopped (at least for now).

And now I'm swinging the other way...

I tried all day to eat as little as I could only to give in when my stomach turned and I got light headed.

I just can't do it anymore.

I forced myself to workout after work for fear of what would happen if I didn't.

My mouth is still sore from throwing up and I have cuts where my gum and lips join that hurt really fucking bad and so the final thing that stopped me from bingeing today are the thought of them tearing further.

Also I reminded myself that I told my lead I'd be to work at 7:30 AM and take a picture of my desk every morning to prove it. (She didn't ask me to do this...I volunteered).

Then I thought about the fact that I have to wear jeans to work this weekend...I HATE JEANS...and the thought of putting them on makes me wish I stopped eating a week ago.

Then my mind went to how much it hurts to throw up now.
How hungover I feel the next day.
The rushing regret that comes moments after I'm done.
The shame.
And how I can't stop once I start. There is no such thing as a little or just once with me.

And then my disordered brain finally remembered those of you who've written me encouraging texts and messages especially in the past day.

And I'm going to have to have you all believe and love me until I can see it myself. And you're doing a wonderful job.

Tomorrow I make the decision to go back into Intensive Out Patient. Meaning I'll be going 4 days a week again.

This scares me because of a lack of a social life I'll have, how much time I'll spend commuting, how I'll miss AA meetings...but then when I really am honest with myself I haven't been doing any of those things because I've been getting sick.

Ok I'm going to go skimp on my dinner and watch Mud.

Love you guys.

I Need Some Help.

Hey guys. I haven't been writing because I was slowly going downhill and then I tripped and went down fast.

I guess it started with skimping on program, making excuses to not show up to things, being afraid to leave the house and believing the best use of my time was to constantly binge and purge. Even at work.

I've lost control of my behaviors once again and see my life falling apart.

I can fake it for a while that I'm ok and that's when I avoid food altogether. Yesterday I thought I was getting on track but then I realized that I was just not eating all day only to come home and give in. Or I'll be normal and social for a couple of hours only to have my mind race about what I can eat next and when I can go back to "that place."

I hate myself for bingeing and I binge because I hate myself.

It's getting incredibly hard to get out of bed in the morning because I just don't give a fuck. It's easier to stay in it and avoid everything. Avoid my thoughts. My urges. My friends. Family. Job. Responsibilities. FUN.

But then when my job is threatened and I really must go and I do get out of bed I see how much my life is affected by bulimia.

I plan things and miss out on them.
I waste so much money on food.
I waste money on not going to things I bought tickets for.
I let people down that I say I'll show up for.
I'm constantly late to everything.

And the shame of being where I'm at now is so bad that it has taken me a month to tell you all the truth.

I'm bingeing at least twice a day and hard. My throat is raw. I'm swollen. I'm tired. And I'm depressed.

I woke up to a text that said "Today is the day of complete recovery! You are made new each day. Praying for a healthy and happy day! You were made for more Kris."

"Made for more" resonated with me and hit a nerve. I am made for more. My life is not about trying to live this double life of self hate and loathing and shame and then being happy go lucky me.

So I've taken initiative to try somethings to get me out of this:

-I'm texting my lead a picture of my desk when I arrive on time every morning
-I'm going to write in this daily
-I'm going to eat a cookie a week (I never let myself have treats unless I throw them up)
-I'm going to check in with people at dinner
-I'm going to go to as many aa and treatment things as I can

I have lost my footing and my hope and my common sense. I don't know what way is up or how to have the energy to climb but I know that when I show some willingness amazing things will happen.

Thanks for your support and for reading.

Let's Get Sexual.

I've been waiting for you.

The anticipation is killing me.

This excitement only comes with the unknown.

My heart skips a beat. My head races.

Then I see you.

My stomach drops.

You start off slow. Tease me.

With the lightness of a breath you trace up my spine.

My body is alive with anticipation.

My breath quickens.

I let out a yell.

I can't help myself. 

I want you. All of you.

You've enveloped my senses.

I don't know where I am.

What have you done.

Don't stop.

You bite at my ears.

Play with my hair.

I stretch my body to the sky.

Vulnerable.

It's just us.

Just do it. 

Make me lose control.

And with one movement. In one second. 

You have all of me. I'm yours.

Pulse push twist turn. 

Grab me. Hold me.

Make me work.

Push me harder. Pump it faster.

Excitement shakes through my body.

Here it comes.

Lift me up. Get me high.

Sweat drips. Hearts race.

I pulse to your pace.

I'm yours if you just take it-take it all away.

You see me at my worst and bring out my best.

You make me feel alive. Transformed

Take me away from who I am. Where I am. What I am.

Make the impossible possible.

There's nothing other than this moment.

And this is all I need.

Exhausted you slow.

I've never felt more alive. Calm, serene yet awake—aware.

Present.

You are my hope. 

My ease. Happiness. 

Maybe everything will be ok.

Maybe life is this simple.

EDM you are everything. 

So I was trying to be dirty and make you think I was talking about ChaCha and I and well that's just none of yo bizznass. But I wrote this to apply to how EDM makes me feel time and time again. Nothing but my higher power who I call God and electronic dance music get me as elated as they do.

So screw you bulimia and alcoholism. I just need to hear the bass drop.

Life Is Good. Except When It's Not.

I binged and purged last night until late.
I woke up this morning with the worst "hangover."
I couldn't move or get out of bed until noon.
I missed work-again.
I didn't even try to eat normally when I finally got out of bed.
The sun is shining.
It's a gorgeous day.
And I want to hide.

I want to stay in my room and not face the shame and hate I have for myself.
I think about how I could just get out and go for a walk but that's too scary for me.
It seems impossible to get to treatment today.

I don't want to think about how huge I am and how bad I've let myself go. Or think about what I just ate and how much more weight I'll gain.
But then again I just say fuck it and fuck you Kris. You did this to yourself so just keep going.

I don't want to feel anything. I want to zone out. I want to act like this will go away. Like I can do this just one more day and I'll deal with it tomorrow.

I want to keep acting like I don't have a life to live. Like I can keep putting it on hold. Like I'll wake up fixed tomorrow. That this is all a bad dream. That one day I'll wake up and I'll be someone else.
I don't want to think about how I can only shop at one store because they are the only ones who make clothes big enough for me.

I don't want to think about how pretty my friends are. How wonderful they are. How successful. How I am pathetic in their comparison.

I don't want to be present and in the reality of my depression and the way I'm steering my life.

I don't want to be responsible for my actions.

I don't want to go to treatment and see the girls that can't eat. The girls I'm twice the size of.
The girls who secretly are happy they are not me. That they do not look like me. I was them once.

And honestly I do not want to eat anything ever again. I do not want to throw up. But I do not want to go do anything else.

I feel like I'm living a double life and I'm being crushed by the two. It's so confusing when one second I'm happy and fine and the next I'm choking over the toilet.

Not doing these things seems so scary, so unroutine, and yet when I do not do them it feels so free.
I have these thoughts in my head like rapid fire. You're fat. Do this. Don't do that. Why can't you be better? Why can't you try harder? Why dont' you just stop? You're disgusting.

They feel like me, they are me, but supposedly they are the disorder but it feels so real and like exactly what I think.

I have been in this limbo place for a long time, of knowing what to do, what not to do but doing something else. And I feel like I'm going to break. And I'm scared as to how far down I'll go.

But then again there is so much good in my life. ChaCha. My friends. I'm finding a new place to live with a roomate and maybe even a CAT! I have wonderful jobs. A family who I have a better relationship than ever. I've found a great support system for all my addictions.

Life is good. Except when it's not.

I Need Attention.

You know when you were little (or ahem just out of college without a job) and cleaned your room without being asked?
And the first thing you wanted to do was show your mom how awesome you were?

Or when you go out of your way to help out a stranger and you just feel grand about yourself and you want to tell someone so they can say good job but you don't want to tell anyone because then it takes away from the fact that you did a good thing for 'no reason'?

Well I'm telling you. I'm telling all of you because I want praise! I want to brag! I want you to give me the credit I deserve for being a normal, decent human.

So here goes:

My goodness starts yesterday after leaving The Moore Center (for eating disorders). I hopped on my bike feeling hopeful and raced to catch the bus back home.

We were neck and neck as it was stuck in traffic and I tried my darnedest (? I have never tried spelling that out) to get up that hill without passing out or missing it.

I made it. But only because I pulled this ballsy move of coming up on the left side and then IN FRONT of the bus to show her I was there. I drove across the crosswalk so I thought I was legit. Um no turns out I AM AN IDIOT.

She gave me a lecture and looked at me with complete disgust. I was a dog with my tail between my legs. Once again I deserved the name "Stupid Biker."

On the bus ride I was sitting next to an elderly Indian man who had on a purple scarf. He kept interrupting my raging Excision playlist to ask me questions. I was annoyed at first but then began to calm down. Turns out he had a really good sense of humor and a wonderful accent. I helped him get where he needed to go.

I got off the bus next and the bus driver honked at me to come see her even AFTER I'd left the bus. Oh lord...what did I do now? She then proceeded to apologize for being so short with me. Then somehow I had the guts to thank her for doing so, saying if she hadn't had gotten so mad I don't think it would have stuck in my head that that's just not something you do.

I went and had a kick ass workout and even SMILED at those bitches...ahem...girls that strut...ahem...walk around the gym with their boobs hanging...ahem...their confidence for all to see. Half of them smiled back and I think the others were taken aback by my confidence.

Dinner date happened. I was finally totally honest with how I felt about my and ChaCha's relationship and it turns out I'm just paranoid, insecure, crazy oh and a total girl. Everything's good.

But still, I had under eaten at dinner out of nerves and was planning a binge in my head the whole time. I got home and started. Fighting all the way-do I really want to do this?-I have to stop this sometime-I will next time-THIS IS NEXT TIME-But I want to-etc.

Then I remembered that every time I put on music especially EDM I get happier immediately. I always WANT to remember to put it on when I want to binge and purge but I forget. But this time I did it. And as



played the urge, the anxiety, the overpowering feeling to binge went away. I cleaned up my room. Read some stuff. Opened mail. And felt free.

I woke up today feeling happy. But moments later I got on my bike and my shorts were tight and then my world went to shit again. Fuck I'm fat. That's right. That's why I hate everything.

But I did my best all day to fight those thoughts. I ate on my meal plan, I got coffee w/o sugar free vanilla. I ate that free sample at Macrina.

I got a call from my dear friend who is a recovered anorexic and is always such a joy to talk to. She reminds me of what matters in life of my faith of well life beyond this!

My spirits were lifted.

I then proceeded to do selfless things like buy my coworker a pastry for his birthday.
Offer to buy tickets for a friend for a show.
Not be a complete bitch to idiotic people.

Then it was time to head home. Off I went into rush hour.

No less than 5 minutes in I get cut off by a taxi and almost crash. I fall off my bike. Instantly I'm shaking uncontrollably. I tried getting back on and end up losing balance and almost run into the back of another car. Then I do it again. I finally get off and call a friend.

"It's adrenaline," she says. "Just walk."

So I do. And I reach out to people who make me feel good and I don't sit with the hate I have or the shame. I move forward.

What I'm getting at is that I get really stuck in these depressing moods. Like if I was in one now I'd tell myself to go fuck myself and that I'm a fucking pussy and I'm just making fluffy ass excuses for why I'm fat.

But I'm not in that mood so there.

I'm seeing that in order to have a different life I have to think differently. Do differently. It's insanity to keep doing the same thing expecting a different result. And people I am insane when it comes to my bulimia.

Oh and the last thing I did that was good is I'm making cinnamon rolls for my coworkers for tomorrow and homemade frosting and usually I would have eaten them all by now and to tell you the truth I still want to eat them all but instead I'm writing. And I sent Chacha texts of everything so he'll know what's up if I don't answer.

Anyway over all I'm doing alright. And I'm really thankful for that.

A Year Ago Today

You know when just a little something, an image, a place, a smell, an outfit whips your mind back to another time? This weekend that's happened to me so many times. It was a year ago during Capitol Hill Block Party that I started diligently digging towards my bottom that had me admitting I needed to go to a treatment facility for my alcoholism and bulimia.

I was binge drinking and eating nonstop. I was out of control and it was a rush. After years of controlling my food, my exercise, my money, my life I was screaming fuck you to the rules I had created. I couldn't believe the terrible things I was doing to myself and that I could still keep going. How much further could I go? How many more times could I make myself throw up? How early could I start drinking. What combinations could I do? How flirtatious could I be? How much attention could I get? How much money could I blow on booze, food, people?

I wrote this a year ago:

"My knees hurt from the tile. My left hand clasps the porcelain, while my right has teeth marks on it. My heart races.
Just keep going. You did this to yourself. The cake I ate ten minutes ago fills the toilet while relief fills my head.

I finish, brush my teeth and stop to look at myself in the mirror. I've popped blood vessels in my face, they look like freckles. My mascara is running down my face. I leave the bathroom in disgust.

I try to write.

I can't. I'm shaking too badly. Tears fill my eyes.

I do what I don't want to-I call my sponsor.

"I've done it again. I drank last night. I didn't want to. I over ate last night. I didn't want to. I ate a cake this morning. I didn't want to. I threw it up. I didn't want to. I called you. I didn't want to."

Deep breath.

"I want help.""

Damn am I a good writer.

So now of course I get reflective.

I cannot write words of total recovery, of health, of victory over addiction.

Because I was doing exactly what I wrote a year ago this time yesterday. I binge ate and threw up until 6 PM when relief came by having to go meet friends to see A-Track at this year's Block Party. A year ago I don't think I would have left the house out of hurt, shame and pure addiction and selfishness. Going to meet them was a relief and the only thing that kept me from continuing to just eat until I hurt and get rid of it. Not knowing why I can't stop, what made me think it was once again a good idea to start.

While I'm not recovered yet I am in a much better place.
I am 60 days sober today.
I have been through partial hospitalization treatment for my bulimia, intensive outpatient and now outpatient.
I have been getting help through AA for my drinking.
I have more good days than bad.
I have a real relationship with my mom and a growing one with my dad.
I have become a better person, less selfish.
I hold four jobs when this time last year I lost one and could barely show up for another.
I have a steady boyfriend that I'm there for, present for and honest with.

However, I still have deep shame for my body. I am 20 lbs heavier than I was. I see and feel the weight and grit my teeth. I cannot look at myself in the mirror unless the angle is just right the light flattering and I have enough makeup on. I put pictures up online of when I feel pretty to hopefully get a boost from my super close facebook friends (yes that's sarcasm) that I am in fact ok - pretty, worthy.

I am still seeking attention from guys to make myself feel once again worthy, important, desirable. I am not getting that satisfaction from myself.

My priorities are still my looks over all else but now I'm starting to make room for being a good person. Measuring my success not by my weight but by how many people I can help.

If this is how far I've come in a year, I can't imagine the words of hope and wisdom I'll have in another year. I won't give up, I can't.

I have you all that have reached out to me and given me kind words of encouragement and understanding to thank for much of my perseverance.

I now have faith and knowledge that what I cannot do for myself will be done for me if I keep believing and asking for help. I'm living proof of it.

Checking In

This is a letter I wrote to my therapist and dietician this morning. I haven't seen them in two weeks, nor have I said one word to them. 

"I feel like we are friends who had a slight falling out and I'm not sure how to approach you again. Or where I stand.

But that's crazy. 

I've twisted being away from treatment into this huge thing that's creating me a lot of anxiety.

I wanted to prove to you all that I could do it on my own (not that you ever dared me to). That I could just do AA and not have behaviors and be free finally.

Wellit hasn't gone that way. I've had ups and downs but more downs I'd say. I've BP at work two days in a row causing me to not finish my work. I have felt like even though I know what the right thing to do is I can't stop doing the wrong. I know that I can't just deter from my meal plan for a buffet at work for a moment to pretend like I'm normal. But I did it anyway. 

I see myself doing things that I shouldn't do, like stealing, bingeing, trying to get on the light rail for free, running red lights on my bike and I feel I can't stop. Each choice makes me more mad at myself and watch the negative pile up and the failures so I can't see the good.

I'm a bit calmer now but the past couple of days I've just been upset and not known why or how to fix it or feel my feelings which pisses me right off.

I haven't followed my meal plan, I haven't been exercising, I haven't been going to AA, I haven't been talkign to anyone about what's wrong and it's left me miserable. I don't know how many fuckign times I'm going to have to go through this until I get it through my head that this is no way to live but it looks like I had to do it once more.

I feel out of control. Who knows how much I weigh now. I know it's gone up. I can feel the rolls on my stomach and sides when I do things like bend over or curl up to sleep that weren't there before. I had an illusive control when I was doing ED behaviors regularly like over eating, under eating, exercising compulsively but now I don't have that illusion and since I can't do what I used to do to feel in control I feel even more out of control.

I hope this makes sense.

But what does make me feel calm now is getting to work on time, helping other people, eating on my meal plan, keeping my room clean, hanging out with friends, working out normally and i've been doing that too I just have let the negative over shadow everything again. So I guess I'm ok now. It's just when I think of my weight and how much I've fucked up for so long I can't bear it and want to just run and run until there's nothing left of me, nothing left to feel or see or hate."

Thanks for reading.

Inventory

I haven't written in a while because I was so happy then I was so sad.

I'm coming off a week long binge after a week long of not bingeing and before that it was a week long binge.

So much money wasted and time on eating and throwing up-I disgust myself.

Anyway, I felt compelled to write-not about the above but about what I'm doing right now.

I'm doing an inventory on my life up until now. I'm listing out resentments, fears and people / places I've harmed.

I resent over 300 people. Going through my facebook friends alone got me most of them but my God I had no idea I was this jealous, bitter and angry at people...especially my dearest friends.

Every girl who is happily married (not sure why I am jealous of that), who is thinner than me, in better shape, has a fiance, has a job I want, who was once my friend but doesn't talk to me anymore, any guys I dated or thought should be more interested in me and show me more attention...I AM STILL UPSET AT THEM.

And half the shit I'm saying is my own opinion and not facts, like "She's prettier than me. She's happier than me. She thinks she's better than me. He talks to her more than me."

I've have created so much hate in myself that it's clouded my head and my perception. It's blocking me from moving forward.

I will share them with a trusted friend so these resentments and fears are no longer inside of me, no longer holding me back.

Also, I've realized I'm petrified of losing my job, getting a new job, trying to get a new job, trying to be sexy, trying on jeans, being overweight (we knew that one), of never being good enough, of everyone else's opinion, that I'm never going to figure this out, that everyone has it better than me, that I'm missing out on something, that I'm not doing enough...etc

And the hardest one is going back through not the people that hurt me (the kids that spray painted WHORE in my lawn, the girls in the 6th grade that called me Super Bitch, my "best friends" that wrote shit about me anonymously online, my parents who never got me help) but rather those I have hurt.

The best friends whose guys I've taken, the boy friend I cheated on, the guys I moved onto one to the next without a break, the ones I used so I could feel important and get attention, all of the times I've made my family late for something because I was working out or staring at myself in the mirror.

All of my shame, fears, worst traits have been brought up lately and it's really fucking overwhelming.

I know it'll get better after this but it sucks listing over 300 things that make you a bad person. But I guess we're all flawed and I'm doing something right by doing something about it.