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.