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.