I Just Lost My Shit.

The past hour was spent fighting off increasingly common, relentless thoughts of inadequacy, self-loathing, and insecurity.

I watch myself in the mirror unaware of both my staring and word vomit. I've got my boyfriend on the phone. The words that have been swirling in my head release themselves like a broken dam. They can't come out fast enough and they are lethal.

He will leave me, I'm sure of it. He's already thought of it. He's sick of me, almost as sick of me as I am. I'm convinced. I display my toxic thoughts out in front of him and myself. Wanting him to cut me, wanting him to hurt me. Just say it I tell him. Just tell me the truth. I know you don't want me anymore. You've come to your senses. Just do it. 

Manipulative, vicious, and cowardly I cut myself down so he cannot do it. 

And I am aware of the little voice screaming in my head..."TELL ME I MATTER."

I find comfort in being able to protect myself in this way. Of course I do not see it when I'm doing it. The feelings are real. I believe with my entirety that I am unworthy, I am insignificant, I am unwanted. 

It is safer to believe this than the alternative.

That maybe he could really, truly love me. 

Because if I give him that power, he could hurt me.

He could cut open the wound that runs deeper than my heart.

He denies my accusations and I quickly try to pick up the pieces. What have I done? I'm just pushing him away. Now you've really fucked up. And the thoughts take hold again. More powerful than before, hungrier than before.

Power. Control. It's all illusive. 

After we hang up I return to reality. Bullshit with friends. The conversation I just had in the back of my mind, buried, safe. He put the Band-Aid on it just like I wanted. 

On my way home my mind wanders, as it does. What I should do, what I didn't do, how badly I did what I did do...

And suddenly I'm caught, snagged like on a hook and pulled into my mind. She's there. And I hear "It's not about him." And something to the effect of:

Watch yourself in suffering. Tell yourself, 'I am suffering right now.' You did not get what you needed as a child. As a little girl, a very little girl. And that love you seek from him, that comfort, that security, he cannot give that to you. This desperate, hunger, manic need for love and reassurance stems from something much deeper, much more powerful than him. Watch yourself in your suffering. 

And so I did. I said "I am suffering right now." And the tears flowed, PUSHED out of me. Gasping for air, I violently go back and forth between the road ahead of me and the past. Struggling to stay present, struggling to breathe, I let myself feel.

I feel the pain of trying to live in an environment that was not safe. Surviving, not living, through my life. I felt the confusion, the sadness, the anger all at once. I grabbed my cuff I was given at FreakNight from one of the purest souls I've ever met off my stick shift. I cling to it, the stars digging into my hand, keeping me here.

Odesza's Light comes on and I am guided to well, the light. With the reminder of the kindness I was shown at FreakNight and the magic of Odesza's music I am reminded of the goodness in the world. I am reminded that there is true love. I am reminded of the unity I feel at festivals and in the music I listen to and the community I have submersed myself in. 

I am reminded that I do not have to be on my guard anymore. I am no longer in danger. I am safe. 

And I listen to Light and I cling to that cuff and I breathe in and out and I hold that little girl that didn't get what she needed. And I hold that 20 something that was destroyed over and over again by the  evil in the world. And I hold myself. I see myself in suffering and I give myself what I have been searching for everywhere else. 

I calm as my car stops. My breathing slows. And I can't really get over what the fuck just happened. The clarity and understanding and peace I look for everywhere else was just given to me, by me. 

I'm Back Bitch.

I look up through puffy eyes and relieving tears and I laugh.
My cat is staring at me, watching me unravel.
I realize I'm not breathing and I gasp for air.
Then the tears come again.
I cling to my accent pillow (I'm a true grownup because I own one of these) harder, hugging myself.
That's all I wanted was a hug and to be told it's ok. 
I'm ok.
I'm good enough.
I'm pretty.
I'm smart.
I'm talented.
I'm a good person.
And I tirelessly look for these things from other people, things, substances, and actions. 
It's a cycle.
I chase after these things with determination, with willpower, with good intentions and I never find them. 
Not really.
What I find in those things is temporary.
And I wake up today after another night of drinking too much. Too much makeup. Trying too hard. And I feel exhausted, defeated, ashamed.
But as I hug this pillow, and myself I'm reminded that I can and am the only one who can give me what I need.
I needed a hug--I gave myself one.
I held onto myself so tight, flooding my heart with the love and secure feeling I have craved since a kid.
And I just repeat this.
The crying. The forgetting to breathe. The laughter. 
And I violently go between flashbacks and reality.
I cry for her, and I hold her tight.
And I give her exactly what she needed then, as I give it to myself now.
After what seems like forever which is just minutes I am calm.
I am centered.
I am grounded.
I feel that light that I get when I find myself through all the anxiety, depression, bullshit.
And for the first time in months I feel the urge to write.

I have a love hate relationship with this blog. Writing makes me be honest with you all, and well myself. It makes me feel the shame, discomfort, anxiety, sadness, all the feelings and shit like that that I run away from daily. But I'm finding that running doesn't work because it fucking catches up with you in the worst ways.

So I'm trying to get back in the swing of things because, guys I'm learning some good shit in therapy and about my life and I really want to share it with you.

Update on life:

Attempting abstinence (for now) and it's not going so great.
Eating on my meal plan most days and not bingeing or purging or restricting or any of those nasty little habits that come with an eating disorder.
I can curl 25lbs like a boss.
I decided to put up real boundaries with my parents. (for now)
I am doing well at work, and I really love my job.
I am realizing that my actions have consequences.
I am looking at the relationships I put my time into and see why I have that relationship and if it's really a healthy one for me.
I am in the stage where I finally figured out I'm good looking and take too many selfies. Eventually I'll have the confidence to not have to do this to feel good about myself.
I am trying to simplify my life and only do those things that align with my values and my goals (it's fucking hard).
I am pretty much a brunette now.

Going Sober for October: Week One

I started my sobriety on September 28th and lasted until this Saturday. I was sober for five days, and while that's not a month it IS the best I've done in months.

I'm going--well as always--to be very honest about my experience in hopes that not hiding my struggles and successes help those of you who are trying to lessen your drinking habits (or anything else too). You're not feel alone in your thoughts, feelings, and struggles -- or successes!

The past five days weren't easy. I was surprised that I actually craved beer. And more often than I'd like I would have the thought to go get a six pack or to go to HH. I was especially triggered by bars, which I tried as much as I could to avoid but hey I'm young it's not that easy.

Having other plans in place, reading my goals list, and working with my support system helped. It's important to note that I didn't just write down my goal but I wrote down WHY I have that goal.

On Saturday night when I chose to drink I made an ass out of myself. I was emotional, too drunk, and spent too much money. I thought after 5 days I'd be able to drink moderately but I drank more than I usually do! I think it's the can't have it mentality that didn't work in my favor.

Even though I wish I hadn't drank, I'm happy I did because everything that I wanted to stop drinking for happened. A nice, refreshing, expensive, embarrassing reminder as to why I need to work on this--and for a while.

So the next day I woke up ashamed, feeling sorry for myself, depressed (with no hangover thank God and well water). I went to lunch with the boy and saw full beers on happy hour all around me. Well I already fucked this up I thought, I'll start clean Monday.

After pleading with him, trying to talk out the craving with him, and listening to him remind me why I want to stop in the first place I left the bar reluctantly without having a drink.

I'm so happy I did.

Summary of what I learned:

1. New habits don't happen in 5 days. 
2. New habits don't come easily.
3. New habits happen with work, dedication, and perseverance.
4. Drinking doesn't necessarily make me less socially awkward.
5. Writing down your why for goals is so important.
6. You can restart your goals at any point and time. You don't need a new day, a new month, a special day of the week...if you just ate a donut and you're on a diet that doesn't mean you can just go balls to the wall with junk food the rest of the day--you can make the decision to walk at lunch and eat the lunch you planned for yourself when you weren't in such a discouraged mindset. 
7. Do what will make you feel better in the future. Not in the moment.

To start your Sober October read last week's post. It covers how to approach a month sober with enthusiasm, determination, and realistic goals AKA in a way you can actually fucking do it.

Going Sober For October

Oh heavens.
Just typing this post makes me anxious.
Fear of judgement and failure--and judgement if I fail rises in my stomach.
But having people to help hold me accountable and to support me is key to my success.

Reducing how much I drink is a path I've been on for years--since my DUI in 2011. And I've toyed with sobriety and AA and moderation. And I've done the opposite: not given a flying fuck. 

AA wasn't for me. I hate cutting things out entirely--it makes me want it more. Ever been on a diet? Ya you get it. Don't think about the white elephant. What are you thinking about?

When moving here the relationship I was in was party-centric. And with having no friends and desperately wanting connection I did what everyone else did, party--only I'm not like everyone else. Alcohol and I go balls to the wall or we don't hang out at all. I can't always say no, and have a hard time moderating. And this isn't because I have a problem with it, it's because I use it for the wrong reasons.

-connection
-reduce my anxiety
-boredom
-to be included
-to hurt / punish myself

If I used it for taste, the occasional relaxing night, to celebrate an occasion I think that would be alright, but this uh habit or hobby of mine has become more of a necessity / something I can't say no to.

And it makes sense, it was my crutch and my "friend" (if you will) to try to help me feel at home and relaxed in a place where I felt so homesick, alone, and anxious. And then after my breakup my only social interactions and way of meeting new people was around booze.

Now that I'm on my feet again and in the best place I've been in almost a year, I still have this nasty habit. Drinking one or three a night, getting the munchies, all of a sudden wanting to pay for everyone's drinks, not giving a fuck: really adds up. 

And I'm sick of using my disposable money in a disposable way. And I'm sick of being sick. And I'm tired of being tired. And I'm over getting over hangovers. 

I have hit a point in my life where moderation isn't working and right now the best thing for me is to go sober. And that's what I intend on doing.

I started this venture last Thursday and restarted yesterday. After losing the resolve I had Thursday after therapy in a matter of hours I realized my therapist was right--imagine that--I need to replace this bad habit with good ones. 

So if you're inspired by this and wanting to challenge yourself here's what I'm doing. 

The thing about change is that you actually have to change. 

Write out what are things you like doing or want to be doing that don't involve booze:

• hiking
• crafts
• improving my portfolio
• modeling
• dancing
• writing for shows
• cooking
• lifting
• shopping / creating outfits
• reading

These things are now what you do instead of drink. You HAVE to pick things you really enjoy doing (if you want to run but hate it--don't do that--do something you'll enjoy).

Pick three things from that list and get someone who is sober or will be willing to respect your choice not to drink with you to do these things with. I picked:

• hiking
• reading
• crafts

Call up three friends that will support and respect your desire to go sober for the month. Set one day a week (or whatever works for you as long as you're committed) to do these things sober. 

I see this method working because these things and situations are able to give me what I wanted all along: connection and relief from my anxiety.

It'll put me in situations where I can practice going through the social awkwardness, learning how to combat the thoughts in my head and make real true connection with those I'm with--as well as myself.

This er method has already started working. Because of the commitment I asked someone else to make with me, I can't break it and go to the party I was invited to on a Tuesday. I can't go drink after work because I have to meet a friend early in the morning to go hiking. 

Once you get a few days under your belt and honor your promise to yourself and in turn yourself it'll get easier. 

While last night was my first night of staying sober, I was challenged multiple times and it was hard to say no but I did and I feel so much better for it this morning. 

I also have a list written out as to why I don't want to drink (plus other goals) and I keep it printed out on my desk at work. I read it morning and night and check in to see how I did that day. Where did I do well, why? Where did I fall short, why?

It's a commitment and it's not easy but I know it's worth it. 

My list for not drinking is:

• reduce mood swings and anxiety
• increase sleep
• reduce spending to save
• physical fitness (who wants to go to the gym hungover?)
• my job (showing up on time is a thing I heard)
• my friends (not being able to be present or there for them is something I've come across too many times)
• my relationship (being a new one I cannot grow false connections with him early on)

So while it's called "Sober October" I'm starting well yesterday. Having a goal that's only a month seems more attainable than to never drink ever again in my life. 

One day at a time people.

Cheers! ;)

Landslide

It's just past sunset, and I'm on a walk in my neighborhood. The light is just enough to see where I'm going and into people's houses. I take each house in as quickly as I can while my long legs carry me at the pace I've come used to (fast) from being late everywhere. I see people in their own lives, caught up in their heads, or with their families, I see the moss-covered lawn ornaments in the overgrown grass--a reminder of a more productive and inspired time. I see decorations inspired by Pintrest and staircases that make me wonder where they lead and whose room I'm seeing. I'm so present and yet entirely absent.

I remember my friend shared a song, Landslide by Oh Wonder with me that I had yet to listen to. The text was followed by "I love you." Being that we usually share bass-heavy bangers Landslide caught me off guard but gripped my attention. And I hear the words:

I know it hurts sometimes but
You'll get over it
You'll find another life to live
I know you'll get over it

And I feel that tightness in my throat and the tears in my eyes--the sensations I've been avoiding at all expenses (going out instead of saving money, drinking when I know I shouldn't, staying out instead of sleeping, not showing up to work). I realize it's been a while since I cried, since I let myself feel. 

I have felt like I'm drowning lately, too much to do, not enough time. I have felt far away from myself, the girl I started becoming on my own in Seattle. The girl in recovery. The girl who believed in herself. But every time I stop, I can't sit with myself. I'm not even really aware of it, it's instinctual. 

And even though I'm so busy, I feel like it's not enough. Most of my day is made up with trying to remind myself of all those Pintrest quotes that remind me of how I want to live my life. To not forget what I should be doing, what I didn't do, and what I will do. Writing and rewriting my goals, not understanding why there's such a disconnect between what I want to do and what I actually do. 

As I reread this I see how little credit I am giving myself. It's not anyone around me that's creating the feeling of failure, of too busy, of shame--it's me. I have the power to chose happiness everyday and instead I'm looking at what isn't working, what didn't happen, and where I can still improve, hardly do I ever acknowledge the growth, the effort, or the hope that's there.

But when I do I'm so much happier, when I do basically I'm able to give myself that confidence and calm that I crave others to give me. When a friend tells me to "be kind to myself" to "give myself more credit" I can but I (but I'm working on it) struggle to be able to give myself that own acceptance, grace, and love.

Today it hit me that I'm trying to control my future and avoid my past which is making me miss the present. The belief that I have to be happy in order for me to function in my day causes me most of my distress. The lists, the notes, the reminders all there to help me avoid the very thing I need to feel--pain. 

The pain of losing my best friend to hatred, jealousy, insecurity, and selfishness. 

The wounds that are reopened every time he is mentioned.
The anger towards her.

The shame that comes with not being fixed yet.

The insecurities that keep me frozen at work.

The anxiety that interrupts my day.

As I write and bring up all of these I get more and more uncomfortable in my body. My thighs feel huge, I feel so fat when I sit I won't allow myself and haven't all day, regretting eating dinner. ED is here, to the rescue. Distracting, all consuming, relentless.

And I've gone through therapy enough to know that I need to go through these emotions and discomfort to ground myself again. Then the rapid thoughts of everything I haven't done and need to do and the dishes suddenly seem more attractive.

The fear of feeling the pain is probably more powerful than the pain actually is. I guess what I'm getting at is I am going to go cry after this.

But before I do that, I wanted to make sure I said what inspired me to write in the first place. The song reminded me to have faith. And believe that everything does work out the way it was meant to in the end.

All I have ever wanted is to love and be loved. And as simple and concise as that statement is it is so incredibly complicated. But because I started listening to my heart, had faith, and did the scary shit I'm at a place where I believe what I want most I'm getting.

I wanted love from someone who didn't love me anymore, not like that. I was so busy focusing on what was lost I didn't see who I had found. I found true friends, I found courage, I found strength, and I have begun to find myself.  

And every time that you're lonely
Every time that you're feeling low, you should know
I'll be there for you, I'll be there for you
I'll be there for you, you know

Read all of the lyrics here.

Read Me

I'm amazed as to how long I've been writing.

I was forced to start this for my COM 101 class in 2008.

I think I wrote about food--(smirks, no surprise there).

It--somehow and you know what I'm not sure what made me want to start writing so openly on here--turned into a place where I shared my exploration in recovery. It turned into my best friend. Ya best friend. This simple little blog has always been there for me to pour my heart out to. To help me understand myself. My thoughts so plainly in black and white for me to read. See I like to talk but I don't like to listen--it's interesting when you listen to yourself. What are you really saying?

What I'm getting at is tonight I want to write about my night. I want to write about the fact that I had the guts and confidence to approach my favorite band after seeing them live. That I only had two drinks. That I didn't binge or purge tonight. That I felt like myself with people I used to put a front on for.

But when I write all of this and I start crying and laughing like a psycho at the same time because I don't know what to do with all of this emotion, I realize what I'm really writing is: I feel at home. At home in Vancouver (shudders) yes but mostly I feel at home with myself.

I'm constantly looking for belonging. I'm looking for acceptance. I want love. I want to be wanted. I want to be appreciated. I want to feel like someone. And with a lot of practice, tears, anger, drinking, eating disordering (totally a thing), money, therapy, and years of work I feel at home with myself.

There is no rush, there is no desperate pining for more: more love, more attention, more acceptance, more fucking food. I am. I just fucking am.

Letting go is something I've written about in here hundreds of time, with anger. If I could fucking let go I would. How do you let go? Those words vigorously typed out here while I succumb to tears. But that's exactly what I am finally fucking doing. I am living in the moment, I am changing my perspective, I am just here to enjoy my life.

Depressed me would want to punch me right now.

Easier said than done, but easy never got me anywhere.

I write in here about some very dark things, and some powerful emotions--and happiness, security, authenticity are among those powerful emotions.

The more I work to accept who I am, remove those things that don't align with who I want to be, the easier my life is getting.

I titled this "Read Me" because I will every so often comb my posts, the ones you read the most (that Face of Bulimia one pretty much kills it) and I ache for the girl that poured her heart out to an unknown audience hoping for some kind of acceptance.

And girl, I'm here to tell you, and remind you, that you can give yourself that acceptance.

I Figured Out What's Wrong With Me

Recently, I've been told more often than not by you all how much you appreciate my blog.
It means the world to me that you read and call me things like "brave" and "inspiring." Your comments are what keep me writing. It feels good to know that I'm heard, and perceived in the manner in which I intend: honest, flawed, hopeful, real.

I haven't written in a while because I have not felt I have anything useful to say. There is no epiphany, no morale of the story, no insane amount of feelings that needs to be purged onto the page.
And more often than not, I am having a hard time making sense of my feelings.

It's like when I am asked, "how are you?" I cannot answer. There's a blockage. I think back to therapy, when the tears and words flow so easily. I try to do the same in the comfort of my own room, the privacy of my desk, my car. And I just spin. I cannot connect. I get frustrated.

And I think it's because I do not actually want to feel what I feel. My mind is protecting me from feeling that deep, dark, loneliness that has haunted me since I was 12. I do it subconsciously, I do it routinely, I do it well.

I want everything to work out, I want to know what is going on, I want to have a path to follow. But every time I try to force my life down this path that I THINK I should be on, I get this stuck feeling in my mind. I want to avoid the feelings of anger, of dislike, of hurt because these feelings are telling me that what I'm pursuing isn't right for me. Isn't going to work. And that means I don't know what the fuck I'm doing anymore. That goal, that life, is not going to work for me and now I'm left with the unknown. And that is scary.

So I push myself down this path, invalidating who I am, ignoring my heart, the universe and it's signs in order to have some sense of safety. Some sense of worth. And yet the more I do these things, the more I feel less secure, and  like shit about myself.

I am reminded of this, "What you want and what you need are two different things." I need to get out of my own way and let it happen.

I have been listening to a lot of motivational speeches throughout the past month and something that stuck out to me was: in order to obtain your goals, you have to focus on the WHY not the WHAT. So why do you want a million dollars? That reason, the why, is what gets you up in the morning, the why has to be greater than all your excuses you have in your head.

And I've been realizing that I don't really have a goal, and I most certainly don't have a why. So I think that's why I'm so stuck. Why I make the same mistakes. Why I care so much about what other people think. Why I feel stuck. Because I have not found anything that drove me to want to do better and be better than my relationship. And now that that's over, I'm just idling. And I am ashamed that I don't have a self-righteous path. I guess it's because I don't see my worth. I can live for others, but I can't yet figure out how to live for myself.

I love the idea of being an independent woman. Of knowing who I am, what I want, being driven, passionate, dedicated, confident etc. but there, for whatever reason, is nothing driving anywhere. Nothing pulling at me. No passion. No goal. I just don't really care right now and I'm not sure how to find what that one thing is.

Thank you again to everyone who tells me they appreciate this. You are the reason I wrote today. And this helped to sort my thoughts, and also gave me a small sense of purpose, which I guess is what I'm looking for.

What It Feels Like

As the anger dissipates the pain takes hold.
The tears swell and my throat tightens. 
I don't want to feel this way anymore. 
I'm sick of feeling this way.
I'm sick of thinking about you.
The only thing that seems to stop the thought of you is you. 
My strength, my determination, my pride flows out of my body with the tears.
I want comfort. I want you.
The thought of laying safe in your arms, overrules all logic. 
I can feel your body next to mine.
I know it. Every curve, muscle and scar.
I was once safe, I was once yours. 
The thought is too much.
My body braces as though ready to run.
I want to run to you.
Release the emotion in movement.
I'm frozen as my heart drops and reality sets in.
I can't.
There is no you anymore.

It's impossible to move forward when you can't stop looking back. 

I Just Want To Belong Somewhere.

I just want to belong somewhere. I want to matter to someone.

After 30 minutes of writing about my breakup, my move, and recovery that is what broke me. I ugly cried for what felt like forever.

I feel so insanely alone. The more I go to Seattle the more I feel I don’t belong. I ignore the sinking feeling I get when I feel disconnect but it’s there. My friends are changing, the city is changing, I am changing. And then I come here, and I don’t belong either. I lost my best friend, and with him all of his friends, our places and activities are haunted with what was, and I’m left with the ghost of what I thought I had. I don’t belong anywhere. I have never felt like I’ve belonged, and this feeling is the most painful for me.

I didn’t fit in in school, I was the friend that was picked on, I was the problem (am) the problem child in the family, work, sports teams whatever, I have never had a place. And now that hole that I’ve been trying to fill all of my life is gaping. I cannot hide, or fill it, or run from it anymore. Every time I try to, every time I go back and try to force things it doesn’t feel right and it doesn’t work. The pain of trying to force something to fill it  and failing is less than accepting what I have grown up believing is true: There is something wrong with me and I will never fit in.

My friend told me today something I really didn’t want to hear but I know is true: There’s a difference between what you want and what you need. And all I can really do right now is ask for the strength to accept what I need.

When I allow myself to feel, to give into the darkness and the emptiness that lives inside me, I completely lose myself. I open my mouth as if to scream and nothing comes out. I go blind. I can’t breathe. The feelings of my past come flooding into my body but my mind is black.  I curl into a ball and gasp for air. It hurts.

And I grieve for myself. And I beg to no one and yet everyone that it can’t be true. It can’t be true that I’m so terrible, that there is something so wrong with me, that I don’t have a home. I don’t belong. But this time around it’s really hard to pick myself up and try again. That is why I am having the hardest time of letting go.

I want nothing more than to belong. I want someone to call me and ask me to hang out. I want a group that isn’t complete without me. I want to be thought of. I want a person to sit in sweats all day with me and have unawkward silence with. And someone that I can tell stupid shit to and they actually care. I want to be someone’s someone.

I just want to belong somewhere. I want to matter to someone.

I Said Fuck In Front of a Grandma

I was in my head as I went into the locker room of my gym. Thoughts of whatthefuckamidoingwithmylife mixed with howdoIstopfeelingthisway and a hint of flashbacks to my ex take up most of my day, the breakup has been over 4 months now. Sigh.

Unknowingly I pull on my favorite cutoff and bitch face simultaneously. I walk to the mirror to do my hair. I don't know what I was thinking a about when I catch an older lady out of the corner of my eye gesturing to me.

"What could she possibly want me to do?" I think. I rip my headphones out dramatically, my nonverbal "I was fucking listening to that and YES I had them in to avoid humans like you."

And the 5th Golden Girl (and yes I'm writing this with the cutting tone I had earlier, I would never speak this way normally about people) asks me if I'm wearing my shirt because I am a chiropractor.

I look down at my skeleton cutoff, putting two and two together. And look back at her.

Her calm tone, smile, and adorable question make me realize I've had a bad attitude for a while, and that I'm being extremely rude, but the emotion her question evokes in me overpowers my manners.  I immediately feel embarrassed because no I am not a smart human that went to school for sciency stuff and gets paid a lot. I just bought this tee because it made me feel tough, I think it looks cool and it gives me a much needed confidence boost when lifting...basically it hides my insecurity. So of course I spit out. 

"No I'm too fucking stupid for that."

REALLY KRIS, REALLY!? You just said fuck in front of a nice old lady who is making small talk with you you asshole. 

I try to cover up my insecurity that I just spat in the all too quiet locker room with a laugh and a "I'm just a writer." 

Unphased, this ray of sunshine laughs and says, "Oh honey there is different kinds of smart. Somethings that one person is good at others aren't and so on, but we're all smart."

My iciness melts, and I break into a smile. Good for you lady, I think. And dude you're so right, and I tell her so. 

She continues to laugh and fluff her white hair and says I look pretty awesome in it. My spirits have lifted and I'm catching this woman's easy, positive energy and I jokingly say "Ya I'm smart, good-looking, and strong." And then I--oh Lord yes I'm admitting this--flex in front of her. She calls me the bionic woman and I tell her she's sweet.

I leave the locker room the best I've felt all day. I have the confidence to hold my head up as I walk to the squat machine and smile at those who pass me. I ask a trainer for help with a lift. I tell myself good job after a couple hard sets instead of thinking about getting sexier. 

What I'm getting at is I love moments like these, when I am reminded that life can be a little easier, a little more enjoyable if I let it. And no it's not that easy for me because my brain doesn't work that way, but seeing how a simple interaction, a smile, a change in perspective can really make my life easier is well now going to make my life a lot easier.

I Fucking Hate Love Songs.

Now that I'm single and going through what I can dramatically yet honestly call heartbreak -- I fucking hate love songs.

And yes it's because they remind me of what I thought I had, and what I thought was true (still working on how to work that out -- it looks something like radical acceptance, grieving, and a stark change in perspective).

But it's also because all they talk about is being reliant on the other person. NOT HEALTHY (said in Gru's voice from Despicable Me--watched that too many times lately--no, there's no such thing). Like I can't live without you. Fucking romanticizing codependency.

No, no, no.

And as I go through some of my playlists now I'm doing a major overhaul because sadly but not surprisingly most of the songs that used to make me happy make me sick. They remind me of my twisted, distorted view that I was supposed to throw myself into love and my relationship to be happy. My existence revolved around my other half, my Mr., my man.

GAH NO.

I can't say it enough. Seeing what happened to me when he left my life--how depressed, and seemingly incapable I was freaks me the fuck out. That just one person had such a hold on me. That I thought I was being a great girlfriend by being so dedicated (well yes loyalty and commitment is important) but just that I threw myself into the relationship with such abandon that I abandoned myself.

I mean it makes sense. I came here in early recovery, no friends, no car, no stability but him. So I can't blame myself but I can learn from, er--myself.

They always say you can't love anyone else until you love yourself. And that is so true. I couldn't find peace within me, I couldn't give myself grace, I couldn't give myself credit--I NEEDED him (and others) to tell me all of these things.

And now I'm learning how to do that. I think I bitched about not seeing how this was a good thing a while back, but now...I see the light ha no but really it's fucking great. Like I talked about before. I'm finally learning how to take care of myself emotionally and well physically (since we're on that subject--yay for eating) which I never learned before.

By doing the following:

-positive self talk (it feels really fake and stupid sometimes but my goodness it makes my days easier)
-learning how to ground when I start to spin in anxiety
-asking myself what I need (am I scared? how do I comfort that? am I lonely? let's call someone)
-distraction (not avoidance)
-and that's about it for now

I'm not sure if my posts are getting repetitive. I just have never seen life in this way and I am so damn excited about it (scared, scared should be put in there too). I've been posting a shitton of selfies and I'm proud of me statuses because I've never given myself credit for my looks or my efforts before and I'm in the honeymoon? stages of all these beautiful realizations. And also you folks are pretty damn nice and boost my spirits (hey I'm not that self-sufficient yet).

So while being so intertwined with someone you can't live without them (Twilight?) sounds romantic and what most of the media seems to tell us is what we should be searching for, the idea of being independent, confident and reliant on no one but myself is so sexy to me. Powerful.

So screw you Disney (but seriously I love your work---I just think it's fucked), and love songs, and Twilight. I'm out to be my own Prince Charming.

Mom, Look at What I Did!

I had no urge to write for months and now I'm flooded with thoughts.
I danced alone in my room for the first time in months.
I dance usually when I don't know what to do with my energy and emotions.
And it's not like interpretive dance -- rather Missy Elliot. Video to come. I swear.
I feel like I'm running, tripping, grabbing at everything I'm learning.

Yesterday at the gym I weighed myself and I didn't like what I saw.
I'm afraid I'm losing weight.
The thought overpowered me as I watched myself curl 20s (heck yes) seeing my muscles, lean and toned.
I discarded them--it's just because you're too skinny now they have to show through.
You're failing on your own again.
God haven't you learned by now?
I convinced myself that the guy behind me thought I was disgusting.
I hung my head in shame, forcing myself to look down as I moved through the gym.
It was my unspoken cue to everyone that I know I'm shameful, so please for the love of God don't tell me.

I began to panic as the thoughts raced in louder and faster, feeding off each other. I couldn't control my mind--again.
Most days I feel out of control. No matter how hard I try to make lists, plan my day, set reminders -- control, control, control I can't.
The more I try to control, the more I lose control.

People always say (mainly my mom's voice comes into my head) "I wish you could just let go."

WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN? I can't. I can't just let go. Don't you think if I could I fucking would?

But yesterday something clicked. I realized the more lists I make, the more I try to negate what will inevitably happen, the more I shun my ADD brain and try to shut it down the more I spiral out of control.

So yesterday when my mind was spinning and my heart was pounding I told myself that these are the moments that matter--this is where you do something different, this is where you try, this is where you grow.

And I put back the weights, and I did some yoga and noticed the thoughts without judgement and tried to recenter myself. I made the scary decision to scan my body, connect with it (real hard for me). And I turned my music up loud. The pulsing beat, feeling my body's natural pull towards balance--I calmed.

I got up smiling. I FUCKING DID IT. The thoughts did not consume me. I was not powerless. I actually do have control.

I have been acting like life is happening to me, and I'm helpless. Moments like these and a lot of Beyonce and Britney remind me that I am stronger than I think.

So I got back up and finished my workout with my head held high and my heart a little more whole.

This Is Incredibly Hard to Write

I have been going through a very hard time.
I have never felt this way.
I do not want to exist anymore.
I do not want to hurt myself, but I just no longer want to be me.
I see myself as broken, panicked, depressed, lost, desperate, hopeless.
I feel unsafe, and not unsafe like I will hurt myself (please hear that) but like nothing is secure, and well, safe. I can't find the words other than that.
And well it makes sense. 
I have had nothing but instability for the past 8 months.
I have lost most of my support system.
I have lost the comfort of Seattle.
I was in an unstable relationship for most of the time I've been here.
I have moved twice now.
I started a new job.
I have fleeting friend groups here.
Nothing is stable.
I am unstable.

And I have been bullshitting all of you. I post selfies to try to feel good about myself (because well I look good and I know it but that doesn't do anything for my heart). I post statuses about the places I'm going and the accomplishments I'm making. I act like everything is fine because I want it to be fine but I have been writing in here for too long and been too honest with you all to stop now. 

So...I AM NOT OK. I feel more depressed, anxious, and generally fucked up than I ever have in my entire life. 

And I haven't written in a long time out of shame. Not knowing what to say and also for a lack of passion. I write these posts with overwhelming emotion or a need to tell you all what I learned and for months I didn't feel that. Until right now.

I am the most scared I have ever been in my life, and that includes facing my eating disorder. This time I am facing everything without much support and frankly as ashamed I am to say that I clung to this figure so much during these times,a boyfriend.

What I am facing right now is what caused the eating disorder. I am having body memories (physical reactions because of a memory) and reliving the very thing I've been running from since I was 12. When it all happened.

When my home was no longer my home, and my stability was taken from me. I was not taught how to deal with what happened, so the eating disorder started. It was an escape, it was a distraction, it gave me a reason to go on, a reason to be, the thing that got me accepted, that told me I was ok.

And now at 27 I'm having to figure out how to do that on my own. And it is fucking frightening. I wake up in a panic every morning with the sinking feeling of being alone, of being incapable, of like so many out there not knowing or wanting to deal with me anymore.

But I have to 'deal' with me. I am the only person that can help me and while that's a wonderful realization and an over posted pintrest quote I do not know how to do that. And I kept trying to write shit after that but I'm just going to leave it at that. I DO NOT KNOW WHAT I AM DOING.

Except well, my therapist threatened me with treatment again if I start slipping. And as much as treatment helped me I don't want to go back so right now as fucking pathetic and lame as I feel for being here again, I am just working on eating, sleeping, showing up to work. All of which I'm mostly doing. Support is another key component, so if you can be that for me, in whatever way from talking, listening, distraction etc. please let me know.

The Breakup

"What if it was ok to be yourself?" asks my therapist.

My heart drops into my stomach. My immediate answer is "No."

I try to wrap my head around it, not only the question but my reaction. Isn't that what I'm all about? I thought I was so independent. Isn't that what all those songs are about? "I don't fuck with you."? What all those Pintrest pins are about? "Just be yourself, everyone else is taken." 

I'm told to sit with this feeling. I don't want to. There's a pain in my chest and my eyes burn. Oh man, here they come. And I ugly cry about the realization that for most of my life by very influential people I've been told I'm not ok the way I am, to deal with myself, that I can't handle you anymore.

Since this session, my nearly year and half relationship  has ended. That question keeps finding its way to the forefront of my mind. "What if it was ok to be yourself?" 

My relationship didn't last because we wanted different things. He knew what he wanted, and he wanted it more than me. And me? I thought I wanted him. I thought I was being so smart and authentic by putting my relationship first, believing in love, fighting for it, dedicating myself to it. Doesn't lifelong happiness matter more than a job? 

The answer is yes, but what I was investing all of myself into was not going to end up the way I wanted. But I kept pushing, it had to work, I didn't leave everything I loved for it to all fall apart. And yet that's what it was doing. Slowly but surely our differences appeared and I didn't want to face them. 

I have spent most of my life thinking that things go sideways because there is something wrong with me. People left me throughout the course of my ED because they couldn't deal with me, because I wasn't good enough, because there was something wrong with me.

That's the storyline (oh therapy) that I've told myself over and over and over. And believed it wholeheartedly because I needed to make sense of what was happening, so that way I could try and fix it. And try I did. I would try to mold myself into the person I thought I needed to be so I could be accepted, and was exhausted because my authentic self was screaming at me that this wasn't right. I got very good at ignoring it.

And after my conversation with my therapist, a couple of TED talks and a fuckton of courage, I'm noticing more and more that I shut my heart up the instant it doesn't make sense. My ex wanted things I thought I should want. So I tried to conform, I tried to continue to push us together as we moved farther away. My anxiety escalated, my drinking and my ED. My body, my heart and my mind were screaming this isn't right but because I couldn't make sense of it I couldn't fix it so I pushed on. Until I was too tired to go on.

And now I'm left with the knowledge that I loved someone so hard and they didn't love me the same way. And that fucking blows. And this human isn't a bad person, he just wasn't the person for me AND THAT'S NOT MY FAULT, it's no one's fault. We've said our pieces and while you'd think that's enough to move on it's not. There is no defiant end point to when I have to be ok. I can process this anyway I want to. I can continue to talk it out. I can think I want him back, I can hate him, there is no right way to do this except to listen to my heart, accept my feelings with grace and curiosity. 

But it's interesting to watch me begrudgingly do so, even though I know it's right, I know it's what I want, what I need, my heart still drops into my stomach when our separation is apparent. 

When people breakup everyone always talks about personal growth, more you time. And at first I was like what the fuck does that REALLY mean? But as I type this I see how much I'm already learning about myself, my past and what can be my future. 

• I need to make the decision to change the storyline I tell myself.
• Listen to my heart and my head.
• Not have judgement on my feelings, rather look at them with curiosity because they have something to tell me.
• It's ok to not be ok and to reach out to friends.
• It's time I come first (and I always will).
• I need to take care of and respect my mind, body and soul now more than ever.
• I deserve to be loved and that includes love from myself.

I Cried During My Workout, What'd You Do Today?

The gym is empty, it's me and the seniors and the stay-at-home moms. It's lunch time.

I like the quiet because it's so loud in my head.

My anxiety has been debilitating lately.

Constantly spinning, pining, fucking with me.

Behaviors have increased.

I constantly feel like I'm drowning.

Today is chest, triceps and biceps. I started this routine back in the summer. I couldn't curl more than 10lbs and now I'm doing 20s. I never really write about exercise because I am afraid. Afraid of triggering readers, of people saying I wasn't good enough, of people seeing me really as I am: no filter, no angle, no disorder, that since I still use behaviors I couldn't fully own my new body...the list goes on.

But after treatment this last bout I started to lift. A good friend showed me how to do it properly, she got me to go in and keep going in. I liked the power it gave me. I liked seeing results. I liked the exhaustion. My desire to lift is a  different hunger than my ED's need for exercise.

And this afternoon as I stood there in my Seahawks cutoff-that yes I made myself-and I for whatever reason actually look at myself. i see that my shoulders have shape and my arms have definition. I for once feel a connection with my body. I for a fleeting second looked at myself and felt pride. And it's not pride from losing weight, or defying the scale--it's pride because of my hard work. That's me eating. That's me taking the time to treat myself right. That's recovery.

I finish my workout and go to my favorite place in the gym--the classes room. When not in use all the lights are off and the mirrors reflect the light outside. I put on my newest obsession  and I dance. I poke fun at myself, I try to twerk, I do my model walk, I try a new move I've seen online. I feel so authentic, happy and centered. 

And on this particular day I started to do this and the fleeting thought came back, "I look good." Usually I've brushed the idea off, it's uncomfortable and something I don't want to deal with. I stopped what I was doing and tried to stay with the feeling (therapy at its finest). And suddenly the calm curiosity exploded in a million directions. 

I apologized to my body, this deep sorrow I've buried for who knows how long came to the surface and I legit sobbed. I crumbled to my knees and forced myself to look in the mirror. 

I so often do not want to be connected with my body, for reasons I've discussed time and time again. And it was so strange to me that I could feel such emotion for this thing that is right in front of me, that is me and still be so distant from it. I'd like to say that I had some spiritual connection, but I basically just kept crying. When you don't know how to handle your emotions they come out all sorts of ways. 

I looked at my face and my eyes and my lips and I held myself. 

"I need you the most" playing in my headphones. Oh Justin Bieber.

The apologizing stopped and it was like I wasn't doing the talking anymore. It was like there were two of me and one was telling me they get it, like I was forgiven, and I can just be sad now and that's ok. And so I cried and tried to not hold it in, releasing, feeling. And then I felt an anxious excitement, like "Oh shit! I'm getting it! I've got it!" 

And then more sobbing. The end.

Morning Ritual

Listening to: Kito Views From SW2 Mini Mix

I've got to keep this quick as I'm 5 minutes over my morning time.
I give myself a half an hour to settle in and get my mind right before writing. Usually goes like:

Inhaling coffee
Socializing
Watering my rose plant which has not had any roses on it since I got it (sad face)
Reading Daily OM
Checking Facebook
Pintresting until I realize I've gone over my time
And occasionally reading JCrew (delightful clothing and copy to match)

However, oh how do I summarize the last couple of days?, ED has been extremely loud to the point where I was skipping full meals and unable to focus on anything but the voice in my head. I drank that night, engaged in behaviors, spiraled, fought...

Woke up so fucking over it. I want recovery so badly but I (and this isn't fully true) don't know how to obtain it. I can't get to the other side of the street. I need a million and one things to hold my hand to get there: friends, BF, therapist, changing habits, a higher power...calorie free food? haha I AM SO FUNNY.

I somehow, blessedly, found the fire in me that I had at the Emily Program. I am sick of being stunted in my growth because of this back and forth bullshit with the eating disorder, the judging voice, the anxiety. I've been spiritually asking for help and with friends and slowly my old coping skills, thoughts and determination has come back -- not fully people,  I'm not fixed, i didn't just find the answer (even though I'm sure they'll invent a pill to fix me soon -- my ED humor is alive and well today).

So going along with this spirituality comes repeating my values to myself, journaling more, telling the voices to shut up and go away instead of being entranced in them. It goes with being in touch with myself my authentic self.

When I became unemployed it was clear I needed direction and ritual which came in the form of journaling and listing my values (acceptance, authenticity, balance, connection, respect, gratitude) and going on a walk.

I wanted ideas for a new one so I googled and came across this. It's gold. The smiling in the mirror at myself thing for 30 seconds. Like wow. It seriously worked.

I've got spinach and other green smoothie things on my grocery list, I'm going to buy a body brush...

Basically instead of wanting or wishing or feeling blocked I feel like I'm able to take action against those things that once paralyzed me just days ago.

I believe it's because I'm finally acting in alignment with my values.

Boom.

Ok, morning meeting time.

Love.

Change is Hard.

I get very anxious whenever I have down time, I don’t know what to do with myself. I tried figuring out what was going on within me when this happened this late afternoon after my ride home from Seattle dropped me off by going on a walk—to the grocery store.

All of my recovery thoughts raced through my head. You only want to binge because you are ____ . Tired, actually hungry, emotional (about what we do not know), avoiding…fill in the blank.

It reminded me that I always resolve to ‘never do it again’ after I do it. Then the voice comes back at me with you don’t give a flying fuck right now.

You need to save for a car and you spent WAY too much this weekend.
Ashamed I say I know and I just don’t want to care (realizing late aka now that I don’t want to care because I want to avoid the shame of ‘failure’ or / and? The feeling of going against my values.

It’s such a waste of time and you always hurt after.  You’ll regret it long after the effects of the binge have worn off.

Clearly it still does something for me like the therapists say so I’m going to do it. It’s too much dealing with all this back and forth shit so, fuck it I’m doing it. This is what I know, I’m a failure, I fail. I’m not better now and I never will be. Just fucking do it. You always do and you always will.

And then I went and did it. And now here I am ashamed and regretful, wishing I had listened to the smaller voice. Feeling a bit defeated. But proud that I am journaling about it instead of further avoiding it.

Then the good ol’ BF calls and says he’s having dinner with a coworker of ours who I haven’t met and that is female. I hear her talking and laughing in the background. My teeth grit and my responses to him are short. I hang up with no I love you.

I feel worse, like that little voice said I would. I regret what I did and now he’s off having fun, making money, being social and I am just alone, sad and wasting money and time. Fuck me.

The binge started because I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t have anyone to call to hang out with and I felt that I had ‘ruined’ the day by being so lazy and tired that I couldn’t be ‘productive’ by going to the gym / fearful that was eating disordered (HA ironic I went to the other side of the spectrum on that didn’t realize that til now) so I can’t start being productive on my to do list of taxes and classes and budgeting. So I did what I know.

And I’m realizing that to change (I know this is on a zillion Pinterest boards) I have to do what I don’t know. I have to not listen to the voices and try something else to get that relaxed feeling, to release.

It also hit me that I am still pretty lonely here. It’s getting better but I do not have that core group or even one person who I can call up and be completely honest with where I’m at and know that they are probably down to Netflix it in sweats and sit in silence and it’s not uncomfortable. In order to change this I need to start going out on limbs and asking my new found acquaintances to do this. I don’t really know what that looks like.

The idea of being that vulnerable with someone scares me, what if they were just too drunk at that party and they really don’t like me ? Why did that one person not try to hang out again after I tried to instigate a friendship? Oh lord. I sound like I’m dating but like friend dating (not weird it works).

So that’s where I’m at. I have texted some of my friends from home and it feels so good to have that connection again and to be pulled out of this, without them even knowing what they are doing for me.

So I’m going to go play with my cat and probably watch a Disney movie, because today isn’t ruined, I didn’t fuck it up, I learned from it and I’m starting stronger than I was before.

White Booty Shorts & Eating Disorders are Equally Unforgiving.

The words seemingly so profound within my head are complemented by the lyrics in my headphones. The energy that's radiating off me is manifested in phrases mirrored by moments in my mind. Oh shit that's good, I should blog.

I came in my room with every intention of dancing. The energy pulsing through me is steady, a cunning calm. It feels like power, it feels good, I want more of it.

The thoughts keep coming, morphing into a conversation. ED is talking with me. Fluid we move around my room in discussion. Even though our tones level with some contempt it is not a fight like it usually is. Just old friends catching up. Don't you love those friends you don't see for a while and when you do it's like you never parted?

Ah she wants me to tell you that I will probably fail, as I do every time she takes a hold, I will succumb to the food, my body will be too exhausted to do anymore reps, I will put on my safe pants...I will act as though she is not there. But she will not let me go easily.

Viciously we cut my body with strong succinct words and a rage that I have not felt in a long time. Together we avoid dinner (an omelet) and the urge to cry. I cannot lose the power.

I want more of it, because I feel as though I have none.

I suddenly softened earlier when writing when I realized the above. My life, while better than it has been in a long time, feels out of control. I have my hands in a million things. From a busy work schedule to another job on the weekends, a set workout schedule, two blogs I support, therapy weekly, taking the thousand of steps to get a car and still trying to enjoy myself ... everything I try to accomplish grows two heads it seems. I feel like I'm drowning, flailing to keep my head above water.

And ED is back lashing at me for crying and writing instead of doing my never ending to-do list.

I can't seem to control my weight like I used to. I used to be able to accidentally lose weight, scaring those around me and delighting myself. I have let myself go and I can't seem to stop. Right now in this moment I cannot see how eating, not working out and doing what I (instead of ED) wants to do is at all progress. It's pure weakness.

At first with the whole control / lack of control / ED realization I felt soft. As I realized it I forgot to breathe, clenching my jaw I tell myself don't let the tears come, I'm not done writing. Get this emotion out of me, ironic I wrote a post about giving them room last time she snaps at me, see failure? The control thing is textbook ED. You don't feel you have control or you don't so you create it with something you can control, your food or lack thereof.

All of this started because of a fucking number on the scale and the fact that I tried on XL boy shorts in hope all my hard work at the gym would pay off. I would look sleek and sexy in white boyshorts at my next rave like all the other girls. And while the shorts were made for women they might as well be made for little boys by how they fit me. I bulged out of them. Standing there pasty white, slightly sweaty, under the unforgiving Fred Meyer dressing room lights I saw myself, I turned around to see just how bad it was and the tears flowed. I am a disgrace. How could I even think I was alright? How could I let go of what was 'working'? I hung my head through the store after I left the dressing room, the feeling of shame all too familiar and welcoming.

And that's where I'm at.

Six Months. That's Half a Year.

I realized I've been here six months. The idea brings me to tears, I'm not sure what kind of tears but I don't think they are over joyed happy ones, more like I really miss home tears if I'm honest. And not like a super depressed I can't take it anymore but more just genuine heartache for the city and my friends. I can't believe it's been that long and yet I can, I guess that's how time usually goes. October feels like forever ago and I just want to hug my old self and show her she's ok and will be ok.

One thing my therapist here has taught me (or well I'm sure I was taught it but now I'm listening / seeing it) is that I will be ok. That my feelings are not something to fear but to welcome and listen to. That I do not have to fear sadness or anger or the future because I can handle whatever happens. 

When I get mad or sad or have some 'unpleasant' emotion I run from it. I subconsciously distract myself by thinking of how my thighs have grown, seeing what needs to be cleaned, have a physical impulse to get away from myself. My therapist has shown me that once I calm down from the emotion using grounding techniques (music, meditation, ice, petting my cat) I can stay present with the feeling. I can see what is happening in my body, if I'm clenching my jaw, if I'm sweaty, if I'm hot (all of these genuinely happen) which makes me want to escape more---making me more sweaty. Nice huh? When I feel the emotion, and I do not run from it I begin to learn what the emotion is telling me. It, like happiness, or fear, has a purpose. 

When I shun my feelings thinking that they are problematic, shameful and hurtful I just begin to spin. I know I'm not supposed to feel this way for one reason or another and then I get more mad I'm feeling it and then I see myself making it worse and I get more mad until I explode. Not productive, yet natural.

Now that I'm learning to give space for my 'unpleasant' emotions I am able to learn from them and calm them and not fear their return. This kind of mindset has also shown me that no matter what happens in my life I will be ok. I am learning to not live in fear. I am learning to live in the present. I like to say to myself something like I have this negative emotion but I do not want it, this is ok. We can listen to that emotion give it room to tell us what is going on and then appropriately move on. Yes I really do this. 

​I'm almost on my period (you so wanted to know that) so I'm super emotional and holding back tears as I'm at work. I haven't BP for a week and three days which is a record since moving here. I fought off the thoughts all night last night using softer language on myself and understanding. I've been thanking my body for what it does for me instead of hating it and I've been trying to be open to the idea of my rose-gold heart even though it feels very far away. ​

 I've already began to see myself in a different light and appreciate who I am rather than compare and contrast myself to others, seeing what I should do differently, what is wrong with me. I've been able to validate myself when no one else will. And try to accept the apology I was never given. I do not believe I'm fixed and I don't know how long this road will be but I feel like I've found my footing again.

The end.

How The Fuck Am I? How the Fuck Are You?

I've always had an issue with the question "How are you?"
Generally this is a very nice thing to say to someone, but if you say it to me, I will not be happy with you. This is because I am ... I don't know. That's the problem. It's not that I'm not happy, it's that I don't know what I am, I am every emotion, every minute a different one. I cry a lot, let's start with that.

Everything makes me cry. As soon as I have to stop my routine, my constant doing, listing, thinking about what I did, what I didn't do, and what I have to do, I fill up and I want to explode. I don't know why and I don't know what to do to calm down, all I know is I need relief. 

I picture it like this. But more tornado-y and in a very sterile, high-tech building. It's just me, this ball of color, loud, vibrant, swirling and nothing around me, nothing to latch onto or to anchor me.

(These are underwater ink plumes documented by Italian photographer Alberto Seveso)

It's ironic because this is beautiful, and my recovery self tells me that all of these emotions and confusion is actually beautiful because it is life. And I am FEELING because I'm alive and blah blah blah.

The anguish I feel and the racing thoughts, and hyper-sensitive body response (getting really hot, clenching my jaw, muscle tension) is actually information, it's telling me something. If only I could calm down long enough to listen to it.

But generally that scares me. Calming down requires to look at what's happening. And I do not want to poke the beast (ED). It generally makes me very mean, makes me regret my actions and I'm constantly left trying to please it. It is never satisfied however.

Even now, as I try to make sense of this so publicly, so honestly trying to see what is going on, it's getting mad because I seemingly cannot do it. I can keep typing and keep pushing and searching and asking questions and I do not have the answers. And the shame of not knowing. Of being so lost in this seemingly endless turmoil is just so exhausting. And then I don't even remember what happened or why I am so upset in the first place and I feel more out of touch with myself and life. More lost. More far gone. Worthless.

If I try to go get ice cream because I thought I craved it. It will tell me it's not ok, I'm at my highest weight since recovery and I better not go over. I should be running away from the ice cream, in fact run home fat ass. 

Then it will tell me that I'm weak for not knowing how to just eat ice cream like people do every day. I'm pathetic for breaking down in the grocery store again. And I'm selfish for asking my boyfriend drive me there before he had dinner. So I succumb and I go workout. And yet the physical release and exhaustion helps. . . was I just giving into it or was I helping myself? The thoughts, and the tornado pick up again. . .

Another thing I am is anxious. Constantly. To the point of where I feel the need to finish everything that is in front of me. You text me I have to answer then. I get a like on Facebook I have to investigate. And when I go online I remember that I didn't contact the bank. And that I need to see if I got a measles shot. And oh I have a work email. And I never cleaned my dishes. I should brush my teeth. Is it time to eat yet. Oh ya my food journal. It never stops. I haven't slept well in weeks. 

I am also sick, I'm sick and tired of making everything an ordeal. I can't just make my boyfriend dinner, I have to tell him how it makes me feel, how he should feel and how I am justified in my feelings. I will leave the room and then come back in to tell him more of my thoughts. In reality I realize I'm just trying to get them all out so they can no longer be stuck in my head. In doing this I then feel guilty for once again bothering him with these things, because I do this with everything. 

But I can't seem to help it. I can't be without spinning inside my head and I'm exhausted. I just want to be. I want to be left alone. What's the answer? Why can't I just figure out the answer? What is so wrong with me? 

I ask that question a lot. And with therapy I'm slowly finding the answers. It seems as though I've become a very anxious person in order to ignore the sinking hole inside of me. The tornado distracts from the imploding that's happening underneath it. 

But learning that each emotion I have is valid, and has a purpose helps. I'm learning to hold different parts of myself, the tornado part and the sinking hole, and still find myself within it. I'm learning to make room for that self-doubting, critical voice. Separating it from myself has really helped, well kind of haha 

I was never really taught how to deal with emotions when it was important. I was met with silence, or anger, or frustration (and this is because of how my parents were taught to deal with emotion). Then the eating disorder manifested, helping me to 'cope' showing me distraction from the emotions--relief in twisted way. And now 13 years later with a couple of years of hard work in recovery I feel as though I've only scratched the surface. Only now learning to just be aware of all the things I'm doing out of habit and only just now being aware of all I do to distract. The dealing with them part seems so far off. The normal part of life seems so far off. 

And that's where I'm at.

Also, I need to build my support system back up. If you feel inclined to reach out to me I would greatly appreciate it.