Sweet Cherry Pie

I woke up this morning with so many thoughts racing through my head about what I did last night.

I had gone out.

I had binged and purged earlier that day even though I did everything I could to not.

I almost binged before going out.

Then I was extremely late because I couldn't find an outfit that looked right.

I get there and ran into at least three different graduating classes from high school.

I almost fought this duuuude...duchebag…who flicked his drink in my face when I told him to leave my girls and me alone.

I saw and talked to girls I used to envy and be afraid of in high school—ones I put on a pedestal, comparing myself to them constantly, knowing I'd never measure up.

I stayed out til the lights came on.

My DD got pulled over.

We stopped at 7-11 for goodies…I made an impulse decision.

I got home and ate.

Now, usually all of these things would be bad. Usually I would have had too much to drink and have racing thoughts of regret attached to each of the above statements. But last night I was sober and I didn't have my drunk goggles on, I saw my night through different glasses. It looked like this…

I went out last night. – Thank god because Ed had me wanting to give up, go home and isolate.

I had binged and purged earlier that day even though I did everything I could to try to not. – I was able to stop it before it got really bad.

I even almost binged before going out. – BUT I DIDN'T.

Then I couldn't find an outfit that looked right. – But I ended up finding one that showed off my new amazing, exquisite breasts (Anchor Man…) and even got compliments on them (THAT NEVER HAPPENS)

I get there and ran into at least three different graduating classes from high school. – Which was really fun, every time I turned around there was a new person I WANTED and ENJOYED talking to. I didn't get scared and quiet.

I almost fought this duuuude…douchebag…who flicked his drink in my face when I told him to leave my girls and me alone. – I was in a very sober state of mind and this guy who was trying to entice us with his drink sloshing and "baking" during Cherry Pie was not.

I saw and talked to girls I used to envy and be afraid of in high school—ones I put on a pedestal, comparing myself to them constantly, knowing I'd never measure up. – But they complimented me, said it was nice to see me, my nerves weren't there and the conversation was genuine, it was easy.

I stayed out til the lights came on. – which usually means I am at the bar trying to get in that one last drink but I was no where near the bar.

My DD got pulled over. – she was sober J

We stopped at 7-11 for goodies…I made an impulse decision. – I got a Slurpee and it felt great to get what I, me, Kris wanted not Ed (usually would have been cookies and candy bars).

I got home and ate. –I had a sammich because I was hungry and stopped there. Usually I would eat anything and everything until I felt sick and throw up in order to go to sleep.

I'm on a high right now, and it's the high I've been failing to get from food, exercise, booze, purging, restricting. It's this genuine, organic happiness … this light.

I have a clear head, I remember everything last night, I didn't check out, I don't regret anything. Oh AND I found $20 on the floor. BOOM.

I've had a VERY hard time lately. I can't seem to not listen to Ed when he tells me "just this one last time we'll eat this…" "just have the cookie … and add this peanut butter to it and maybe syrup would taste good" "Well you've already started might as well go for two more bowls of cereal…." "You have a disease … just give in to me…" 

I've been trying to find that combination of food and flavors that makes me feel happy, high, relaxed … but after many binges and attempts I've come up with nothing but pain.

But I've found it here.

And I've found it because I was honest about my struggles, and because I acted rather than reacted.

I went to an AA meeting at 7:30 before going out. And after I prefunked with a latte and a girl who has 18 months sober. We talked about our addict state of mind. I felt less alone, less like a freak, less ashamed. It was freeing, it's what I've needed and I want more.

I've found the gray area of my black and white mind.

And it's from doing what I'm told. 

It's from writing gratitude lists, staying in a positive state of mind, from trying, from giving a shit about myself, from going to treatment everyday and from calling up ChaCha and telling him I need help, from going to AA meetings and confessing that I have an alcoholic state of mind. It's from doing the work that I need to do and following direction.

I had to do a lot of reaching out, going out of my comfort zone and talking back to my disease last night. It was not easy but my God was it worth it.

THANK YOU to all of you who read. Every time I go out I'm approached by a new person who reads this mess of madness and confession. 

It's an embarrassing yet flattering feeling. 

Your kindness, encouragement and words lift me up and I'm truly grateful for you. 

God bless!

Feeling Better Ish

My password to my computer…and only my computer is "I Choose Life."
I just had to type it in to get on here to bog. It reminds me each time how important recovery is.

I'm on two of three buses I'll take home to Bothell tonight. It's actually peaceful and obviously I have time to write…or watch TV over the shoulder of the guy in front of me-if only I could lip read.

I just had dinner group for treatment.

I supplemented, which means I took a shake instead of eating the brisket they put before me. I just couldn't chew it…nor enjoy it. I also had asparagus-my pee's going to smell.

Today has had a light about it. Kind of like "Every now and again sometimes, I get lost on the wind of a dream. The air gets clean and the seas get wide. And I can do anything." That's called "Anything" by Mae. We listened to it before dinner. It was very relatable for me.

I keep having these stints of bliss. Of clarity. Of I can do it! Just don't focus on your weight so much. Easy. And then I wake up from that "wind of a dream" to a toilet bowl full of puke and my shaking hands. Reality. It's not that easy. But then like the tide, hope comes around again.

Hope is here now. Today I woke up and decided to follow my meal plan and to only workout every other day like my nutritionist suggested. So far so good…I even had two sugar cookies and haven't really freaked out about it. As I say that I get uneasy in my seat.

When I was given the supplement instead of eating the brisket I could have easily tossed it out and saved calories. It took a lot to take it as I saw other girls not touching theirs—other girls that are thinner than me.  But I did it. I've got to start trusting my treatment team and not Ed. Ed has gotten me no where but unhappy and unhealthy. It's so much easier said than done. And it's so uncomfortable.

My mind raced back and forth from workout before work? No you won't finish your work. But maybe just a little? No. Yes. Ok go change. NO NO NO. Sigh.

But it's easier to follow direction from my treatment team than Ed. It makes me happier. They tell me not to drink—not in the moment but after I'm happy I when I stay sober. They tell me that restricting isn't good—I usually binge the night after restricting all day. They tell me no to compare—I am miserable when I see other girls thinner than me (for shit's sake this woman at work today was showing off that she could wear kids jeans—fuck off lady).

I'm just not sure where I stand. I feel wildly out of control. Like I'm in the wrong. Like there's something I'm forgetting when I'm not constantly thinking about restricting, and working out. No one calls me skinny anymore. I've lost my identity. Who am I then?

I'm getting pretty sensitive at work to people not answering my emails, not appreciating the goodies I bring in, the extra work I do—so I take it as though they don't like me. So what can I change? My appearance. It's a cycle.

So without being skinny I'm just the girl no one likes. Sigh. Ok this is making me sad.

GRATITUDE LIST!

·         I got to work on time today

·         After being gone from 5:45 AM to 8:20 PM the cats didn't throw up or pee anywhere!

·         I did what I was told today

·         I had a really fun dinner group—oh that's the other thing, people in treatment seem to genuinely like me. They ask me about my life. I am bubbly, not shy, I have confidence—I'm just me.

·         I'm watching The Princess and the Frog

·         I have a super sexy super funny boyfriend

·         And I have a girls night tomorrow!

OH and the funniest thing happened. I had my bike helmet attached to my backpack and I raced into Microsoft to pee in between busses. I peed with my backpack on for efficiency purposes and when I stood up I got yanked back down. My helmet got caught on the flusher so I was just flushing the toilet and cracking up with my pants down in the bathroom for a little bit. HIL-AIR.

Good night.

So Sick of SKINNY

So I'm laying on the couch with a headache. I've been coughing up yellow stuff for a week now, my throat is sore and I can't breathe through my nose. And I'm feeling like shit because all I want to do is have a cookie and watch tv.

So I try to inspire myself by looking at Pintrest. What can I craft? What quotes can I read? What recipes can I pin that I'll never actually make but think I will?

When I pull up my app all I see is a bunch of pins by girls that I thought were good looking / didn't need to lose a pound with boards dedicated to bringing sexy back, beach bodies, "healthy" lifestyle. With images like this: 

IT'S AWFUL. I feel way worse about my sausage thighs, the fact that I've gained weight, the fact that I ate at each meal and that I haven't worked out today. I hate myself for not wanting to do a damn thing but rest. I could be doing MORE! I could be eating LESS! Eating more efficiently! Eating more like her...less like me. How dare I be hungry after lunch?

I couldn't help continuing to look. My ED was triggered. Hm maybe the answer is in here. In one of these pictures, workouts, recipes, "the answer" to what I've been trying to find since I can remember. The answer to being skinny and happy and having a perfect life where nothing goes wrong because I'm skinny!

Even though the answer wasn't to weight 25 lbs less than I do. I wasn't happy then. Or when I stopped eating carbs. Or when I drank every night. Or when I binged and purged 4xs in a row. Or when I became a brunette...

I hope you see what I'm getting at. God this is such a rant.

There are all these sick twisted menacing images of what I SHOULD look like, who I SHOULD be like, what I SHOULD do...I'M SICK OF IT!

Why do we have to shame ourselves into looking right? I did it for years. Five more minutes here. 20 more crunches there. Don't eat that just think of that bathing suit. It's DISGUSTING.

We are surrounded by the BE BETTER DO BETTER mentality and it sickens me.

Have I said sick enough?

The commercials on the tv get at us to have a better, faster, more efficient lifestyle. More sex. Be flawless. Be perfect. "Healthy" foods-fucking shit people MODERATION is healthy and that's it. Do not deprive yourself of anything that doesn't help.

That's what I'm learning now in treatment. That I can have cake and eat it too...if it's in a normal portion size. That doesn't mean I've thrown the day away or that I'm in debt. It just means I wanted cake and I had some. I won't always be happy but I won't always be sad. There will be shit days and alright days and really fucking good days and that's just how it works.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this other than a public rant to my personal ED. I hate you. I hate how you make me feel like I'm less than I am. How you make me feel like I don't do enough...

I have this body that I despise, that I pinch and poke at, that I abuse with food, exercise and words. But  it's mine it's me and it's all I have. I'm sick of bashing it of pining at different ways to make it better.

How about this? I am good enough? I don't need to lose 5 more pounds. I don't need to be like the girls on tv. I don't need to do anything but just be?!

BAM.

I was ranting and typing and raring when I get a notification from my calendar. I am supposed to be at my nutrition appointment. CRAP.

So I call my nutritionist and I tell her what's on my mind.

She reminds me that my body looks at food over a week rather than a moment. That my body needs nutrients to help get better (which I have been depriving them of). Sigh. I can relax now.

Thanks for listening.

I Had A Bad Day

I binged and purged at every meal today.

I should have known when I went for a truffle before breakfast that I was in a disordered mindset.

I had a rough night on Valentine's Day—or let's say Ed did.

I had stayed home from work that day because I didn't feel well, my throat was super sore, I couldn't breathe through my nose and had an awful headache. Ed and I fought all day to not binge and to not go to the gym. I was successful. I ate on my meal plan and took care of myself. Then ChaCha came over to celebrate San Valentin.

I had done nothing that day but be in sweats and work. This was my highlight of the day and I was going to act like I wasn't sick and that Ed didn't exist—only thing is he fucking does.

I shaved my legs, washed my hair, did my makeup nicely and even put on matching underwear. This was Chacha's first Valentine's Day in the US with a girlfriend so I wanted it to be special and cheesy. 

Now to keep being honest with you all I have to embarrass myself a lot a bit right now. I am not sexy, I do not know how to get the mood going or how to make sex happen like it does in the movies...

My hope was that he wouldn't be able to resist me and we'd be at it as soon as he walked in the door—no such thing happened. Ed took offense and started talking louder than ChaCha.

It's hard to pay attention when you have two conversations going at once—one in your head and one with the person in front of you. All I could hear was how ugly I was, how unsexy and unworthy I was even to the guy I'm dating. I felt like such a loser. 

I went upstairs and weighed myself 150 lbs. WHAT THE FUCK. I had been working out every day. I had been restricting here and there in hopes it'll help and I gained 5 pounds?! I was at my high school weight. My shameful embarrassing weight. No wonder he didn't want anything to do with me.

I tried keeping a smile on but it just got harder as we went to the market (as Chacha calls it—I call it Fred Meyer). He picked out yummy foods to make that Ed had no intention of eating. I went along with it and got champagne to calm my nerves. He said it wasn't a good idea. I said I want it. So I got it.

We get home and I weigh myself again. Same damn number. I see ChaCha add oil to the pan, cream cheese to the salmon and crackers…my anxiety is through the roof. I sip the champagne pissed at myself that I broke my sobriety. Pissed that I do not weigh less. Pissed that I'm not a sexy girlfriend. Pissed that I'm a failure.

With a big breath I told Chacha what was going on. He of course doesn't see any of it. He says I am sexy, I don't have to try. He says this is healthy food and it's ok to eat a bit of it. He makes sense but Ed doesn’t believe him. Ed is strong right now.

I calm down a bit and don't even get drunk and don’t over or under eat which is good. We go upstairs and go to bed.

I wake up this morning feeling even worse. Still trying to not cough up a lung in front of ChaCha I see him off at 6 am. Write into work that I can't work today. My head was killing me. So what do I do?

I sleep. Overeat. Throw up. Sleep. Overeat. Throw up. Sleep. Cancel going to treatment. Overeat. Throw up. Journal.

I am so ashamed. I have not done anything like this since before I was in treatment. I think it's because I'm in my parents' house. I think it's because my mind is so fucking twisted. It's all or nothing. I can't have any junk food or I must have it all. If I don't work out I should just eat because it's a wasted day. I'm so upset with myself because I literally did NOTHING but eat and throw up today. I am sitting here in my puke splattered clothes writing this to you at 7:38 PM. I'm exhausted. I'm sad. I feel like I'm in such debt now. How do I make up for all the calories I ate today? It will require more restricting more working out…but that's what got me here in the first place. But food, is not something I want to see ever again. I hurt more than I already did. I've wasted a gorgeous day. I should have just forced myself into work.

But I can't get down on myself, that negative place gets me nowhere. But I can't find a positive in today except for the fact that I got to wake up to Chacha, it was sunny, and I'm asking for help now. Better late than never.

God I even have to remake all the cookies I was going to bring in for Valentine's Day to work since I ate ¾ of them.

This is probably the most important part of this post: I realized that I rely too heavily on this blog because I feel alone. I do not have  the guts to call up a friend without this disorder and say I want to eat. I hate myself. I am fat. I'm sick of saying it so they must be sick of hearing it. Ed tells me that people don’t care. People at work don’t like me at all. People in treatment don't want to hear what I have to say. My boyfriend is going to get bored of me. If I do bring this up to my friends I just get ashamed and brush over it-I'm fine I'm fine forget I said anything. I mean what am I supposed to say? What are they supposed to say? This is the only place I have to let it all out—I mean that and my therapist—but she has to listen to me. So I thank you for reading, I thank you for reminding me I'm a little less alone.

And this is so embarrassing but if you really wouldn't mind me calling / texting / messaging you when I'm struggling please write me because I need to start reaching out when I need help instead of being so embarrassed to do so before it's too late.

I'm going to drink water. Tomorrow is a new day.

Friday VS Saturday Night

Saturday night:

Wet toenails that I just painted with charmed, which is like my favorite pumpkin orange—rich, vibrant and yet wintery.

I have ponytail hair, which means I went to the gym came home didn't shower, didn't like my hair in a ponytail but it looks like shit down.

I'm considering falling asleep in my chair while Avicii is playing me Superlove.

The music is incredibly contradictory to my mood.

It's 8:59 PM and I could have fallen asleep an hour ago.

Friday night:

I had just worked a full day, leaving the house at 7 AM. Then rushing to treatment at 3 PM. Meeting my mom outside treatment for Family group at 4 PM. Be there for two hours until 6 PM, where we talk about things—the abuse came up again. Go to 6:05 PM and my mom is crying, in pain, asking me about the abuse. The images of those nights flash in my head, I hug myself as though trying to protect me from my thoughts, I don't want to talk about it.

So of course—I talk about it.

She says she's sorry. She says she never knew. She says a lot of things I've needed to hear—but not now. I just can't handle this now.

My nonstop day continues with dinner with her—on the outside you'd see a mother and a daughter having Subway together—you'd have no idea that she just asked me how many times, where, when, how…

Race off to my bus to make it home in time to meet my brother—he beats me.

My anxiety is through the roof. I need to drink. I can't eat in front of my brother so the other option of relief is the drink. I regrettably divulge a 13-year-secret to him.

We talk, drink two. Then I get my sexy on. I'm feeling good.

We taxi it to The Crocodile to see GRiZ with my friends and ChaCha.

I'm buzzed. I like it. I'm in control but my anxiety from earlier is gone.

I feel relief. I'm having fun. I’m surrounded by people and music I love.

I see friends from high school—I'm no longer that insecure girl. I no longer think they hate me. I'm just me. It's nice.

The music starts. I dance. I want more. So I have it. Still pacing myself. Still in control.

I see others who aren't. Others who are messes before 11 PM. Others who are getting kicked out. I thank God I'm not them.

We dance. We laugh. We live.

So cheesy but that's exactly what we did. I've been on a high from it ever since.

A high from the music, from the positive vibes—not from the disorder or from the drink, it's from something organic.

It's weird to contrast my two nights. I was up til 2:30 last night eating  normal portion of Pirates Booty and watching Wedding Crashers with my brother.

Tonight I went to an AA meeting and will be sound asleep at 2:30.

But I still have the same high. I feel like the world is much more simple. I feel hope. I feel like things are easy right now. I know what to do and I want to do it.

After last night realizing that I drank because of my anxiety scares me. Alcoholism is real thing. I can't take one disorder and trade it for another. So it's time to get sober, I know—it's just I'm not sure how.

Party ... Animal ?

So I stayed sober on Saturday when I went out dancing.

And the only way I was able to do it was by:

·         My therapist telling me she might have to recommend me for an outpatient treatment program for alcohol. Seriously? I said. Seriously. She said.

·         My therapist telling me I have to go to at least one AA meeting and get a paper signed proving I was there

·         My therapist telling me straight up that alcohol isn't good for me and is only making my life harder

·         My therapist telling me that I've "plateaued" in recovery

·         Going to an AA meeting (plus leaving my phone at home so I would focus and taking notes)

·         My friends asking me what I learned from the meeting

·         My friends telling me how proud they are of me

·         My friends asking if it was triggering for me to see them drink

·         My friends asking how I'm doing throughout the night

·         The fact that I tried on my favorite pair of shorts from the summer and they fit me like fucking Seran Wrap

·         The fact that I can't dance as ridiculously as I do with a drink in my hand

·         The fact that I clearly remember the binge purge session I had the last time I went out

·          The fact that I figured out that I'm the only one that can do this for myself

Last night I learned that I'm not as easygoing as I was in college around drunks. I think this is mostly due to the fact that those "drunks" were my friends or people I had to see the next day in class. Now, getting butt bumped by bitches in too short dresses trying to dance, stomped on my girls who don't know how to wear heels and grabbed at by guys on the wall…just doesn't float my boat. I found myself checking my phone at 11:30 PM. Party…animal?

I'm so much more aware when I'm not drunk.

Duh you think.

But it's making more sense why I feel pushed to escape when I go out and dance. First of all it takes Ed out of my head (until I get too drunk and emotional…ugh). When I'm not as aware he can't talk to me and tell me the girl behind me is super skinny, he doesn't make me ask how does that girl's thighs not touch? How come she can be thin and have big boobs? Why am I stuck in this frumpy body that isn't getting attention from any guys? What have I done wrong? I haven't worked out hard enough, looked hot enough, danced well enough…

That's what was going through my head last night. It wasn't very fun. But there were moments of good. Of escapism that was organic, just me and the music and my friends. And those are the moments I have to live for now because the other way just doesn't work for me.

So I walked in a little late (what's new) to the AA meeting and noticed I was one of two girls. And by girl I mean the other woman there had her foot propped up (old woman in AA tall tale sign) sweats under her skirt and Sorel snow boots on.

I sat in a chair that went sideways under my weight and creaked—moved over one. Opened up my heart covered journal to take notes—only to see the last time I wrote in it was when I was in church on December 18, 2011 I called the post "God is love."

As the guys began to talk, I began writing—with my neon pink pen.

"What is the worst that could happen if I follow direction rather than do what I want to do?"

"What else can you do while you're sober that you can't while you're drinking?"

"In order for this to work you have to keep going to meetings."

"God works for good even if 'good' doesn’t look the way you think it should."

"You've already had your fun, you've already drank til you black out, til you get sick, til you do things you regret…"

"It's a good feeling to wake up clean and sober and see what life has in store for me that day."

"Don't throw everything you've worked for away because things don't go your way."

"I'm just constantly trying to feel another feeling, another high…"

And my favorite:

"I've been using alcohol as a crutch…but I'm not disabled."

I feel that these things can be related to life in many different ways, situations and struggles. Whatever it is that's pulling you down, that you can't seem to kick, to get over, to stop … just try this once to change it to make it different. I did it last night and I woke up this morning very happy that I did.

                                                                                                                                                                                           

Isolating.

So I wrote this two days ago, but I got kicked out of my blog and fucking google doesn't have a place where you just contact them to say "I am not computer savvy, help me."

I finally figured out how to sign back into this sucker after two days of bitching and resisting to throw my computer. (google kept telling me I didn't have an account-bitch-I have an account).

ANYWAY: Pretend it's two days ago on the bus:

Just left treatment.

I wish the woman next to me wasn't chewing gum.

Oh shit she can probably read this.

FOCUS KRIS.FOCUS.

So I haven't written because I didn't want to think. I'm sick of thinking. Of summarizing how I'm doing. Are you sick of it too?

Here's to hoping you're not…

I'm not surprised I've gone back inside my shell.

Back when I would tell my mom I was struggling she would yell at me. She didn't understand the disease or how I saw what I saw or why I did what I did—I learned to not mention what was happening—it was safer for all of us.

In high school if I would complain about things my friends would talk behind my back.  (granted I was very sick then and probably talked about it in a different way and amount)

But my therapist brought up today that now isn't then. That what if my friends really do care? I'm not giving them the chance to by automatically shutting them out. What would happen if I did reach out to my support team?

And to answer that basically I'm just scared of being annoying. Being that person in your group you try to get rid of. That everyone talks about, "Oh Kris is doing her thing again…" "God does she ever think of anyone but herself?" So I'm going to go out on a limb and reach out when I'm struggling, not just with food stuff but life stuff. Work has been shit this week and my anxiety is through the roof. My therapist thinks that's because I have been keeping it inside.

Hmm what else? I have been drinking. I said I didn't want to but I am. Guys it's hard not to. I haven't drank in excess or anything so that's good—but now my therapist is having me get papers signed at AA meetings. Damn.

I'm actually relieved. I've been wanting to go to them but my anxiety freezes me and keeps me at home—not sure why—but now that I have to go, I well have to go. I can't do this alone. I think there's shame in that. It's just one more thing I need help with.

I've been very negative lately. My perspective is pessimistic. It's no fun. And it's not helping. So here I am again writing out the positive things from today:

1.       When I went to go throw away my banana peel a squirrel jumped out of the garbage can scaring the hell out of me—I then laughed alone for what felt like forever

2.       I'm going to shower tonight

3.       I'm going to see my best friends tonight to talk about my first ever bachelorette party (…not for me obviously)

4.       ChaCha said "Justin Fever" today instead of Bieber

5.       My socks aren't soggy

6.       I made a list of things I can do instead of bingeing and it totals 89 things

7.       I fought Ed and didn't workout today

8.       ChaCha just told me he's taking me to dinner on Valentines' Day (aw)

9.       I discovered Kid President

10.   I discovered Griz's new album Mad Liberation

I'm not allowed to wear jeans for a month (therapist's goal for me since my anxiety goes through the roof when I wear them)

That's it kids. <3 o:p="">