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.