Last Night Was A Shit Show-But I Wasn't

My favorite producer is on. I've waited 4 months for this night. I've got a boss ass outfit on. I'm with some of my best friends. But I'm having a terrible fucking time.

I have been stepped on, spilled on, bumped into, pushed, and harassed for the past two hours. My body is shaking, my mind is saying escape-we are not safe. I use my manners trying to not lose my shit, "excuse me, oh sorry, can I get by?" I'm talking to everyone and yet no one. No one is present, no one has any sense of self, everyone is fucked up and for once I'm not.

I find solace in the green room where it's bright, empty, and you can only hear the bass. I'm talking to two of my friends but I'm not really present. I feel myself shaking. Why can't I calm down? I look at my phone seeing nothing. I fidget and get water. I stand up, sit down. Can't stop moving. They talk casually, calmly and my mind is blank as to any kind of response to the topic. I can't be here anymore. Even in this "peaceful" (as peaceful as a green room can be) place I'm about to explode.

My mind and body are saying get out of here. I dip out as politely as I can which turns into awkward mumbles and sarcastic comments that I don't even think made sense.

I venture back to the stage. Hoping that dancing will help. I get pushed back and forth like I'm a ping pong ball at the bar and I explode. I tear through the crowd heading for the door, I vaguely hear my friends asking what's wrong, "I can't". My anxiety raises to the surface and releases itself through my hands, I gasp for air.

This is not how tonight is supposed to go.

I post up as far away from everyone as I can. And all I can say is "I get it."

Realization waves over me, almost comforting. "I fucking get it."

THIS is why I continually get way too drunk at shows. The stimulation from the lights, the music (as much as I enjoy it), and mostly the fucking fucked up people. Girls with eyes half open, black lipstick smeared over their face that elbow me when I'm trying to get water, the guys that get in my face to tell me I'm pretty, the people that decide to rage really hard when no one has room to move. The guy that needs 3 bouncers to take him down because he's so angry about "some bitch".

This has been my first sober show in a year. I've never been shy about my substance abuse issues so you all know that this is a huge feat for me. And one that I've learned so much from.

It's sad to me that something that used to be so healing, rejuvenating, fun for me has turned into this. A place where I'm so triggered that I am in mid panic attack for hours on end. I have been going to EDM shows for 5 years now and always plan for them to be something that helps me find myself but it's mostly turned into a place where I lose myself.

I always wondered what was so wrong with me. Why, no matter how many limits I set, no matter how many goals I write, how many people I tell I need help I keep drinking too much. And now I get it. Alcohol is a"coping skill" that "works" instantly. And I need to learn another one and also probably not put myself in these situations anymore. It's kind of sad to let go of something that I thought was so good, maybe like a boyfriend you really shouldn't be with but he's what you know, how you identify yourself, how you spend your time, how you feel like you belong.

You go back to what's comfortable but this is no longer serving me. And no I'm not like swearing off shows or anything because it is my life but I definitely will have to be much more selective about which ones I go to and really think about what the environment will be like past the I love that producer that'll be a great show.

And the other half of this is my social anxiety. I don't know what to do about that yet but I know it won't get any better if I continue to self-medicate with alcohol.  Last night I finally calmed down after riding through that panic attack and maybe that's just what it'll take.. Being really fucking uncomfortable for a while knowing it will end and knowing how to take care of myself in that moment.

This post isn't really as emotional or profound as I'd like it to be, but I needed to get my thoughts out. And maybe it'll help someone else. <3 p="">

Silhouettes, Echos

Just press play.

Song is Silhouettes by Echos. Check it.

Then let's talk feelings.

Like feelings that overwhelm you.

I don't know where to start, let's deal with it later feelings.

Emo, Dashboard Confessional, black nail polish, I never belonged feelings.

And yet I try to adapt.

When I go to write my mind becomes as blank as the page.

Even though I'm exploding with thoughts.

Things I want to share with you.

Things I want to purge.

Things I want to forget.

Things I wish I never thought.

Things I wish I never felt.

Things I can't speak about.

And yet they scream from my skin.
Your traces burn and the smoke lingers.

The only time I feel centered is when I write.

When I rip the words out of my throat and slam them against the wall.
An unorganized, honest attempt at expressing myself.
At making sense of myself.
I dare you to tell me my worst fears.
Tell me I don't belong.
Tell me I'm too much.
Tell me you don't understand.

The memories cut, leaving me vulnerable.
I confess my wrong doings, my shame, my imperfections.

Everytime I write I stutter. 

I speak my truth.
And I want to fix it.

It can be better.

That's what my life has been.

It can be better.

I can be better.
And yet there's a voice in me that wants to accept me as I am.
I want to be as impulsive and imperfect as I am.

Is anyone else as confused as I am?

I feel like the unknown destination in front of me should be exciting.

Should give me hope.

But it gives me dread.

I fantasize about a life that isn't mine.

Toy with what self-acceptance looks like.

I never can escape 14 year old me.

The one who decided that starving herself was the way to live.
Limiting her food, bingeing on men.

And now I'm full of regrets.

I want to be someone.
I want to matter.

I cannot be no one.

Because then I will become as insignificant as I feel.

As deep as the hole in my heart is.

Wanting a father who could never be there.
And a mother who had no more to give.
And it's not fair.

And it'll never be fair.

Because the only person that can make it better is the one who caused it.

All I want is you to say my name.

To see me.
Everyone else saw me but you.
And judged me.
And I was this thing.
This beautiful thing.
That never amounted to anything.

Starved, abused, confused.

You did this to me and now I'm captive.

Held by your actions and impulses.

Held by your sickness and weakness.

I don't want to be a grown-up anymore.

I don't want to have to stand tall.

I want to be held.

I want to be safe.

But my soul is housed in a graveyard.

And my body is my enemy.

And my mind plays tricks.

You stole something from me.

I'm paying debt to your sin.

I will never be safe.

I will never be home.

I will never be who I should be.

Because I can never escape who you made me.

Getting Over You.

Last night I broke down around midnight asking my very recent ex to talk to me tomorrow. Our first conversation since I told him everything.

He said he would.

I realized with a breathtaking flutter of my heart that if he had wanted to talk to me earlier, if he wanted me back he would have simply contacted me. And that yes this is actually over.

I started to gasp for air. I couldn't breathe. I felt as though I couldn't physically take this reality.

My mind miraculously—no give myself credit—because of my time in recovery my mind went back to my earliest treatment days. To the I am a tree grounding technique. 

I pictured myself at Paradiso (a music festival here in the Pacific Northwest—my happy place).

My roots growing into the ground.

The sun on my face.

My arms wide.

Absorbing the energy.

Breathing freely.

And that helped put me to sleep.

This morning I wrote this while listening to Beat Organ (Original Mix) by 16 Bit Lolitas.

This is the first morning I actually wanted to wake up.

“I am a tree.

My roots need soft soil with nutrients to grow.

I cannot force my roots to grow in a hard, toxic, unhealthy environment or where they are not wanted.

There can be no conflicting energies deep down in my roots.

They are made up of my values: peace, love, unity and respect. 

I pull from Mother Earth to strengthen my roots and give me guidance.
My trunk is supported by my friends and family.

They help keep me stable when the weather comes down hard and appreciate the sunlight.

They are my forever supporters.

Because of my values and my support system I am able to reach tall and wide and blossom.

My branches are extensions of my learnings, my failures and my triumphs.

They open my heart wide for love and acceptance.

They create a beauty all their own.

I am a tree.”

How PLUR Is Helping Me Find Me

I do not think I have ever hurt this much.
I have never been this far in recovery either.
I am determined to not numb out with food or booze or drugs or hurting myself.

I had him and I lost him.

I can barely breathe it hurts so badly.

My life changed in an instant.

It is hard to explain without re traumatizing myself.

I am so incredibly tired. Everything hurts. I wake up and my heart drops into my stomach. I'm cold. I shake. I reach out for him and he's not there. He will never be there again. I clutch the stuffed animal he gave me telling him how much I miss him and how sorry I am. I can barely get the tears out.I squeeze it harder trying to feel something other than this. Do I let go? Do I fight?

I let alcohol and my lack of self respect take away the love of my life.

In the moment I had no idea what would happen. I thought I was being brave and going out of my comfort zone. Being social and that these men were actually interested in ME. I made it clear I had a boyfriend. I made it clear I would go home after one drink. I made it clear I did not want to take those shots. It did not matter. And now it does not matter.

I am tempted to feel as though I am back to where I was with men. Feeling they will leave me when it is hard. That they cannot be trusted. I wince when they touch me. When they look at me. Or then there is a rage that comes out when I am called at. All of that work I did. All of the recovery. Gone in a night. In a night I do not remember. A night I did not consent to.

But that is not true. My years of work from my first  incident to what occurred most recently is not gone. In fact if I keep working the way I have my recovery can be more reinforced. I am sacred, I am beautiful and I am me. I am not for you to do with what you please. And I can no longer look for my joy and my confidence and my self worth from you.

From you or him or them or likes or ass grabs and phone numbers and compliments. From jobs and raises and money. From clothing and area codes and cars.

Because I am finding out, from the hardest way possible that when you do not have any income, when you do not have a job and when you do not have a significant other that what you are left with is you.

And right now being left with just me is lonely. It's sad. It's empty. There is nothing to me it seems.

But this self destructive thinking will only get me back to wanting attention anywhere I can get it. And so I have been working on my values.

And I have gotten them from the EDM community.

Peace
Love
Unity
Respect

And I define them slightly differently for myself depending on what I'm working on that day. I've been writing them in a journal in the morning, writing out goals and checking in with them at night.

Peace in my mind and with others. I am not a bad person for what happened or mistakes I made. And I repeat that over and over again. And not all people are out to get me or will judge me for what I have done.

Love stands for acts and feelings of goodwill towards myself and others. Love for and from my friends right now especially during this time.

Unity with food and my body.

Respect means focusing on showing regard for the feelings of others through their actions and inaction. While also of course having respect for myself and my environment. Also in his wishes to leave him alone.

And it's scary to look at myself and I really just do not want to. I have not yet had the guts to say what I do like about myself because I feel after what happened that I am not deserving of praise or anything good. But my friends have been here every hour of every day bringing me up, and that must mean I'm worth something. I'm just not sure what that is yet.

Lights-No This Is NOT About Ellie Goulding.

I cannot stop listening to this song.
Felix Cartel-New Scene CRNKN Remix
Listen to it meow. While reading this. Listen to it loud. And shut your eyes and just let yourself be.
Take a minute for you where nothing else matters but you and this and this moment.
When is the last time you reallly did that? Just took a second?
Ok but don't think about that just do this. Please.

Oh then read my stuff.

Floating out of control

A quiet suffering

Pretty pretenses

Light show

Beauty

Enveloped

Goosebumps

Pump

Close my eyes

Transform

Fantasy world

Effortless

Whole

My hands are up and I’m throwing myself at the beat

Get this anger out

It is wrong

It is bad

It is scary

Power

Calm melodies

Hands paint the air with grace

Eye to eye

Shallow breath

All I wanted was more

Distance

Move effortlessly, simultaneously

Nothing calculated, authentic

Rhythm pumps through my chest

Through my arms

I reach for more

Can’t stop me

Don’t you dare stop me

I’m alive

So much in me

My fantasy is a reality

Living

Addict

The beat can’t get too loud

The bass can’t bump harder

Turn it up turn it up

Push this out

Make me feel

Erupt, I was freedom

Just feel, just fucking feel

High, I don’t want to stop

Eyes close

My protector, the light bounces

Singular bright white

Up down up down

Side to side

Then it goes and goes

My hands follow it

Twisting turning side to side around my curves

My legs follow

I’m stomping pulsing

More lights ignite

I have power

No longer am I victim

My energies are around me

Grace enters my movements

No thoughts just go

Feeling so outside myself and yet at home

Present real in the moment

And yet I’m imagining this all behind closed eyes

At a coffee shop

Inside my headphones

Jaw clenched

Eyes wet

Heart whole

Wah Work. I Don't Wanna.

I want to purge. 
The anxiety of returning to work has my stomach sick. 
Breathe. 
Remember to breathe. 
In through the nose out through the mouth. Again. Again.
I slowly release and immediately gasp for air.
I feel like I'm drowning--I am drowning. 
Swallowed up by worry and frozen with fear from the unknown.
Anxiety rocks my heart against my rib cage. 
The breath comes from my chest shallow, light.  
I'm outside myself. I can't calm down. 
Just calm down.
This goes on for minutes.
I don't know where I am or where I was or what I was doing. 

Then I'm brought back by the beat of Ultra 2014 streaming live into my headphones.
The steady heart of the music. 
I close my eyes and I'm back there, only two years ago.
When I was at my first ever music festival, UMF 2012.  
I'm a too skinny, scared, 24 year old, anorexic, bulimic me.
And somehow in that mix I began to find room for hope.

I felt it in the crowd. In the music. In the lights. The air. My breath. My body.
It was pulsing in the night.
I was completely sober and yet in those hours where the lights flashed and the beats crashed I was high.
Elated.
Anew.
Different.
Light.
Real and yet surreal.
In a happier, gentler world I never knew.

"You'll never fly if you're too scared of the height."

I was scared to go to Ultra back then.
And now I am scared to go back to work.
This is my second time coming out of a treatment center, trying to take those next crucial steps towards living a life without an eating disorder.

I am scared to fail, I am scared to succeed, I am scared to leave 'my home'.

And yet I went to UMF and I was so far out of my comfort zone. I was submersed in a world that while it was new and scary and foreign it was warm, it was love. People respected themselves, those around them, the air radiated love, positive energy.

There was a seed planted for the recovery life I am living today in those three days because I did something I feared.

Now I face my fears every day when I eat lunch, when I do not workout, when I talk about my trauma and when I ask for help.

And each time I am rewarded with a little more strength, a little more peace and a little more life.

The music quiets and the beat gets ready for a drop, my heart flutters and tears come to my eyes.

I smile to myself.

I close my eyes and picture myself next to the old me and take her hand and we sing the words together 

"Freedom ain't free it's a long road"

And she tells me it's ok to take this leap of faith.

"If you never say goodbye."

And now I am here and I am calm and I am ready for what tomorrow holds because I know there is a power out there, an energy that will help carry me through it as it did two years ago and as it will for the rest of the years to come.

Looking Back Helps Me Move Forward

A year ago I wrote this.

And a couple days later I went to Lucky 2013 and looked like this...

I look happy, pretty and fine but this night I was full of anger and anxiety. I was mean to my boyfriend and I had a terrible time at what should have been a great experience.

St. Patrick's Day has become a time of reflection for me because that was the first time (and only time) that I have spent a night in jail. That--for whatever reason--inspired a blog post and has a significant spot in my memory.

Long of the short--or whatever--I was on a commitment for my negligent driving charge March 2012. The night I was released I went to Lucky. I was anorexic, borderline alcoholic, depressed, angry and confused. I did not see those things at the time. Looking back I am sad for me, I hurt for me.

This last year, from reading my post above (SO weird reading old posts. It hurts my heart. I can be brought right back into that moment, that pain so quickly) I was still depressed, disordered, a drunk but trying so hard with the odds against me.

And here I am today. Almost exactly a year later.
And I'm in tears.

They are happy tears. Today I know I am not perfect, I am not cured, but I am no longer confused. I am no longer depressed. I am no longer lost. I have found hope, I have found life, I have found recovery. I am not underweight and I actually like my body now.

It is so nice, no it's fucking amazing to be here two long ass fucking years later and see my progress. To see how much I've fought fallen, struggled, gained and give myself credit for where I'm at now.

Thank you to all of those who haven't given up on me and wouldn't let me give up on myself.

I cannot wait to see what the next year holds.

Just Cried In A Ball On My Floor

Exhaustion.

That's what I feel.
Emotionally.
Physically.

But I want to capture this. I want to share this with you.

It was hard for me to not go to the gym tonight, I still needed to move but I'm getting too obsessed with the gym again so I came home and put on my Sporty Spice outfit (sports bra and yoga pants).

I start trying to gogo dance and realize it's not authentic and I'm just trying too hard.
So I lose the mirror and go into my room.
Dancing for myself by myself.

I start moving into some yoga when I tire.

Then on comes Kaskade's Invisible.

Memories of high school come rushing back.
It's been on the surface as I'm talking about my molestation and need for acceptance in therapy and groups more often.

I see myself. My many faces. I feel my pain, depression, confusion.

I hear the lyrics "every day I try to look my best even when inside I'm such a mess."

I'm no longer in my studio in Seattle. I'm no longer 26. I'm 15. I'm in the halls. I'm seeing the looks, I'm hearing the words that still cut me. The pain is so real and so raw it over comes me.
As I try to go through my moves I succumb to the pain.
I almost collapse into the memory that feels so real.
I have not allowed myself to think about that time since it happened.
It's too much.
I'm curled up on the floor, sweating, crying, shaking.

The song fades and I feel like I will not move from this spot ever. I feel I will be stuck in my high school at 17 and anorexic forever.

My concept of time is gone.

Moments but what feels like hours later Titanium by David Guetta feat Sia comes on.

Goosebumps move from my heart outward.

"You shout it out but I can't hear a word you say."

I always relate that to my ED and everything he says to me.

I'm snapped out of it immediately (so much for my dramatic comment earlier).
I'm at Ultra in Miami two years ago.

I feel the night's humidity, the lights bounce off my skin, the beat moves me.
Moves us--the crowd and I are one.
All of us strangers brought together for one purpose.
Unity.
There's power here.
Power in the universe.

I feel it here in my room. I realize my arms are up and I'm mouthing the words as tears stream down my face, "You shoot me down but I won't fall, I am titanium."

I do power yoga moves until I collapse once again with pure anger.
Anger at this disorder.

"Shooting at the ones who run."

I am so mad at my eating disorder. Preying on my weakness. Relentless. But I am becoming new. I have power in the universe, there is power in me.

The anger and the determination mix and I am clawing at the carpet.
I heave with each trying breath, harder to get out.
There is so much passion here.
Passion within me to live.

It ends.

I rest, waiting to see what my higher power picks for me next.

Moment For Life by Nicki Minaj.

I'm brought back to a post I wrote a couple of years ago.

It was when I first felt the presence of myself. Of my authentic self. When I first felt alive in a long time.

It was the first time in years, YEARS, I wasn't numb. I felt my anger. I felt it strong.

I am taken back to the sunny gym on an innocent Sunday afternoon where I punched the bag until my knuckles bled and my arms couldn't.

I think of that girl and I'm so fucking proud of her.
I look at me now and I see who she's grown into.

And I'm so proud of where she's going.

I wish I could have this moment for life.

PS Yes I took a picture and yes it looks so much more dramatic and cheesy out of the moment but what I just experienced, and what I just wrote about was real and I wanted to try and convey that in more mediums than one. So there I am raw and real.

Acceptance. Group Therapy Brought To Me By Above & Beyond.

Tunnel vision of the stage.

I grasp onto everything Above & Beyond is typing.

Lights flash, smoke rises,the beat starts.

"A little bit lost and a little bit lonely."

Goosebumps rise.
My heart jumps.
I'm elated.

"But I hold on and I feel strong and I know that I can," I yell with my hands up embracing the message and the of relief of being understood.

The song plays, the chorus hits, the beat takes me away.

My body moves. I'm not in control. I'm just expressing what's inside me.

Time, place, people, looks--nothing matters.

My mind takes me to a beach where I see myself age 20. I'm in a triangle green bikini, white floral bottoms. I'm walking past old friends who look at me and gawk. They comment on my weight. Their words cut me. I thought I was finally ok, finally thin enough, finally acceptable--loveable.

I want to hide but I am in my most vulnerable place-outside in a bikini-my disorder glaring.

I come back to the Showbox SoDo I'm holding myself. Arm in arm. Slightly buckled over in pain with the memory, in pain for her. She was so lost. So confused. So thin. So sick.

I open my arms and she willingly walks into them. I hold her. There isn't much. I feel her bones and see her rib cage. I stroke her hair and I tell her it's ok. Everything is going to be ok.

I tell her I don't hate her. I  understand her. It's ok to be confused. She's going to be ok. She'll be ok.

My mind shifts to 12 year old me. She doesn't know love. She knows anger. I try to take her hand. She doesn't want to be touched--not anymore--never again.

I look into her light brown eyes and let her know it's not her fault. She's grateful for the love. She sits with us.

Then I see no one else. I realize it's my turn to face me as I am now with the same compassion I just received my past.

Now it's just me holding me. I embrace myself in this moment as I am.

It is ok that I am not ok. It is ok that I do not know what's going on or what will happen. It is ok that I am frustrated. That I am confused.

 I am who I am because I needed to protect myself from my present which is now my past. I needed to be who I was and do what I did in order to survive.

In that moment of an accumulation of my past and my present I accept myself and I forgive myself.

Above & Beyond types "Group Therapy" on their screen.

I smile.

Where I am, who I am is exactly who I need to be.

Remedy.

It starts in my chest and breathes.
Finger tips grace my skin outward from my heart.
The sensation rolls over my shoulders and down my back.
Hug me closer.

Your hand slowly wraps around my neck and caresses my head.
Grips my hair.

You tug and my eyes are directed at you.
I grab your shoulders for support.

We're closer now.
The build up.
The bass.
The drop.

I can't look away.
I'm yours.

It all hits at once.
I'm no longer in control.

My lips part and we touch.
It's unknown territory.
I'm nervous.
I'm scared.
I'm excited.

We flow.
The music goes and there's nothing left to think about.

Your hands. My hands.
Your hips. My hips.

We're one.
Experiencing this high together.

We're alone but together with everyone.

I turn towards you.
I grab your face in my hands.

We kiss.
It's not enough.

I feel you. All of you in my embrace.

I'm so present. So alive.

Let's Get Sexual.

I've been waiting for you.

The anticipation is killing me.

This excitement only comes with the unknown.

My heart skips a beat. My head races.

Then I see you.

My stomach drops.

You start off slow. Tease me.

With the lightness of a breath you trace up my spine.

My body is alive with anticipation.

My breath quickens.

I let out a yell.

I can't help myself. 

I want you. All of you.

You've enveloped my senses.

I don't know where I am.

What have you done.

Don't stop.

You bite at my ears.

Play with my hair.

I stretch my body to the sky.

Vulnerable.

It's just us.

Just do it. 

Make me lose control.

And with one movement. In one second. 

You have all of me. I'm yours.

Pulse push twist turn. 

Grab me. Hold me.

Make me work.

Push me harder. Pump it faster.

Excitement shakes through my body.

Here it comes.

Lift me up. Get me high.

Sweat drips. Hearts race.

I pulse to your pace.

I'm yours if you just take it-take it all away.

You see me at my worst and bring out my best.

You make me feel alive. Transformed

Take me away from who I am. Where I am. What I am.

Make the impossible possible.

There's nothing other than this moment.

And this is all I need.

Exhausted you slow.

I've never felt more alive. Calm, serene yet awake—aware.

Present.

You are my hope. 

My ease. Happiness. 

Maybe everything will be ok.

Maybe life is this simple.

EDM you are everything. 

So I was trying to be dirty and make you think I was talking about ChaCha and I and well that's just none of yo bizznass. But I wrote this to apply to how EDM makes me feel time and time again. Nothing but my higher power who I call God and electronic dance music get me as elated as they do.

So screw you bulimia and alcoholism. I just need to hear the bass drop.