Slice

Energy surges through my heart
Slicing it open
My stomach fills with fear
I'm bare
Air dances in my rib cage
Fear of the possibility of failure
Fear of the possibility of success
Dare I look down
Dare I face it
Face me
This naked vulnerable small scared
Blink open
I see my heart working
Surreal it's happening right now life
I'm so aware
Heart beats my faith has no choice but to leap
No
I want to close off
Put myself back together
But the air is refreshing
I can breathe
Is this what living feels like?

Treatment Day 3: The Terrible Three's

Man. I am a meany.

I just sent two of my best friends like a three page text about why to not ask me about treatment.

"How's treatment?"

The thoughts, feelings came hard and fast. Uncontrollably
My initial reaction is to throw it back in their faces.
How the fuck am I supposed to summarize treatment. In a word? In a text?

I mean it's like someone asking you about a vacation...so much happened, so many emotions, activities, feelings, experiences...how do you honestly answer that question?

I'm not sure why I get so mad and so defensive so fast.
I mean these are my best friends, or people that truly care how it's going.
I'm lucky to have them I don't want to push them away.

"It's mostly positive right?" Well no. It's not. This is the hardest shit I've ever done.

I like to compartmentalize things. This is what I'm feeling, put it in a box, put it away.
But I don't know what the fuck I'm feeling so I can't put it in a box, it's not going away.

I guess some of me just doesn't want to think about it all again.
I guess some of me just resents that I have to do this still.
I spend 7 hours in there, please just let me have some peace outside of it.

I mean today the morning was great. I was on high. Such a high I almost cried of joy (yea wtf). Then came our outing to Tutu Bella.

We went and got pizza and then had to have dessert. Then sit in a car on the way home in awkward silence as every girl is in their heads. Then sit and do a stupid fucking art project that I didn't want to do and then BAM there's dinner in my face and then oh yes let's do yoga in jeans in a small ass room so I'm uncomfortable and crammed and full.

GREAT. Just fucking great.
So that my friends is how treatment was today.

Meh. Not that's not accurate.
There was the part when I reached out to a girl who was struggling and we were buddies for the meal.
There was the part when I ate the pizza and I enjoyed it (but man it was hard to fight Ed constantly, he was saying don't do this. You have to workout later. You're going to get so fat if you keep this not caring about what you eat shit up....) And then dessert on top of an already super hard meal. Sitting next to girls that are struggling too. Their anxieties catching like fire. And ED still saying this is bad. This is so bad. And me going but I liked it. A constant battle.

My anxiety is felt so strongly in my body. My heart races. I clench my jaw. My hands sweat. My mind is everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Then there was dinner where the dietitian next to me was leaning into my space and just chomping her food. GET OUT OF MY FACE I yelled in my head but then I heard my actual voice go you're really triggering me. We worked through it.

I hate typing this out because most of  you don't have EDs and don't understand why something like that would be so damn hard. So then there's a shame that comes with it.

Which makes me more mad.

I guess there's just a lot I had to push today. A lot I had to deal with. A lot I had to do. And then to have people ask me how is it? Reminds me that it's not that fucking great right now. And I feel so much pressure to get better since everyone knows I am in here.

But it's a blessing that you know because I then have so much support.

I guess it's the hard days like these that show what I'm made of and I did it all. It wasn't pretty. I wasn't very nice. But I got through it.

Treatment Day 2: Today I...

Today I...

helped create and then ate from an ice cream bar.

found out my sensitivity to noises (chewing, smacking, people talking loudly at the gym...) might be biological, linked to my depression and PTSD. And can be lessened through medicine.

had a therapy session WHILE EATING.

was told by my therapist that I am one of the most motivated clients she's EVER had.

spoke up for myself

fought the mean thoughts

tried to be more outgoing

had my friend join me for family group and really got to open up to her about what's going on and what it's really like to have an ED.

felt like recovery is really possible.

My Year In Review

Facebook has been full of updated statuses to summarize 2013.

Mostly from what I can tell...

1. People lost weight.
2. Got married.
3. Had kids.
4. Got promoted.

So naturally I compare every one's successes to my own--or lack thereof. 

1. I gained weight.
2. I broke up with my long-time boyfriend.
3. Thank God I did not have any children.
4. I'm currently on probation at work.

I unknowingly slipped into a depression and a relapse.

Cheers?

But the more I thought about it I realized my year can't be summarized in words, numbers or events. Right now it's just too complicated for that.

As I look back on my 2013 I see struggle but I see success. 

1. For whatever reason I no longer hate my body. I cannot tell you what it's like to finally have boobs after never having them (I've always been too underweight). Call me a late bloomer. 

And while I'm still very scared of gaining weight, I don't really have the anxious drive to lose any. No day is perfect but I'm not constantly pinching, sucking in, analysing myself in the mirror.

2. I can eat most foods. I used to have very strict food rules. Nothing EVER has been full-fat since I was 14. Carbs? No thank you. My parents weren't allowed to have anything in the house that wasn't green or lean for over 12 years. If I didn't workout I didn't deserve to eat. 

While it's still a struggle to eat a full or normal meal I can eat pretty much whatever is in the house or on the menu.

3. I have begun to be able to break some of my disordered rules and regulations. I used to have to workout everyday. I could only eat salad for every meal (yes even breakfast). I would have to go on two long walks at work. I would have to throw up any meal that wasn't a salad. I had to walk the stairs while waiting for the bus. Etc.

While I'm not free from these thoughts I LOVE eating breakfast. If I'm swamped at work I take a shorter walk. I no longer embarrass myself by walking up and down the stairs while waiting for the bus. 

4. I can accept compliments. I got very good at making jokes off of whatever you guys would say to me. Or making up reasons why on earth you'd say those nice things to me (you feel sorry for the eating disorder girl). I couldn't look you in the eye if you called me pretty. I would immediately change the subject. Etc. 

But now when I hear something nice I take it in and I try to believe you--most of the time I do. 

5. Lastly, I've started to learn that life is about being happy. It's meant to be enjoyed. As I've let go of the rules and the thoughts have subsided I have more time to do what I want to do. 

I have to be careful with that happy thing because I am very big on instant gratification. I feel shy? Drink. I feel fat? Workout. I can't sit with myself? Binge. I am depressed? Stay home. So it's more of the what will I be grateful for tomorrow? What in the long run will truly make me as a person and my life fuller?

So I go on walks and take pictures. I take the time to make dinner. I watch Netflix instead of exercise. I show up to work. I write in here.

I hope that this helps you look at your past year and realize that maybe while you aren't being promoted, getting skinnier or having children (GAH) that that doesn't mean we aren't headed in the right direction. 

And any accomplishment, no matter how small is something to be celebrated.

Cheers guys happy 2014!

No One Wants A 25 Year Old Bulimic

Hi candy canes.

I'm in an especially good mood because it's Christmas Eve!

And there was a rumor we'd get out at noon. But it's noon oh one and I'm still sitting here at work. So of course I blog.

Update:

I am going back to treatment.

Two Mondays ago I walked into an INTERVENTION (what I thought was a girls night) with my 4 besties and another friend who had an eating disorder.

When I saw the chairs in a circle and water bottles my heart plummeted and I was like WTF. I think I said that out loud...multiple times.

What happens next is pretty private but basically I was given an ultimatum go to INPATIENT (meaning I live there) treatment in NYC (sometimes places give people with diseases / disorders free treatment if they participate in a study) or my best friends would not be in my life anymore. AKA I wouldn't have a life anymore.

So after this I freaked the fuck out.

I was mad. I was confused. I was sad. I felt betrayed.

These were the same friends who I finally got the courage to open up to and they were telling me I was doing well. Keep it up. You're doing great!

And then this?

And by freaked the fuck out I mean that I cried every other hour at work. I wasn't hungry then I was. I was fine then I felt extremely fat. I was calm then I wanted to throw a fit. It was like eating disorder overload.

I went to bed with texts from my friends and woke up to them, got them through the day. Was ok, had I looked into treatment, had I done my labs?

I went from trying to hold my miserable life together and enjoy it so all of a sudden being told I'm going to have to leave my job, my home and my life for this "free treatment facility'' in NYC.

I mean I already get really anxious when people text call me a lot and I'm trying to work but on top of that I was having to be interviewed by NYC for the program.

Just imagine midday having to leave your desk and go talk to someone about your deepest darkest secrets. Rehashing the sexual abuse. How you starved yourself for months. How you've gained so much weight. "What did that feel like?" "And when about was this?" "What weight were you at?"

So that on top of life was more than I could handle.

I skipped work on Wednesday.
Got shit faced on Wednesday.
Skipped work on Thursday.

Oh and throw in all of my friends and I meeting with my parents about how bad the situation has gotten Thursday night.

After having my adult tantrum I started to realize I DO need help and I DO need inpatient.

Then my boss slaps me with probation for missing too many days.
Fuck.

Then that Friday after countless hours interviewing and phone tag with NYC they tell me I'm not eligible.

While I felt betrayed at first by my friends I started to realize how lucky I am not to have just one person that really cares but five! I mean my own parents couldn't even do this for me.

And while my ED told me not to tell them anything else, because they'll just crack down harder on me, I didn't listen and I opened up more.

I cannot tell you how nice it has been to not have to hide this from them anymore. They answer every time I call. They try to understand and sometimes do.

So that all was a couple of weeks ago. I have checked into other free treatment places but they are only interested in 12 - 18 year old  anorexics. No one wants a 25 year old bulimic.

That leaves me with one option in Washington state. The Center For Discovery.

Currently I'm in talks with them and my insurance. So it's a waiting game. And of course no one is answering my messages or the phone. It's the holidays.

It's a little bit hard to know that I'm going to treatment but not there yet. It makes ED say do it this one last time....you'll get fixed later...they think you need treatment well then fuck it let's prove them right.

But also it's helped. I have tried harder than ever not to binge. I have spent time doing / making things for people. Calling them more. Caring about them (instead of myself). I have gone and done things I wouldn't usually take time to do because I feel as though it's my last for a while.

(I've taken so many videos of my cat. So many.)

This brings me to now.

Yesterday I stayed home from work. I cleaned. I cooked (if making a salad is called cooking). Put pictures up on my wall. Made my brother his Christmas present. Went to the gym and actually lifted weights. I realized this is what my life could be like every day.

But it didn't come without the constant fight of telling ED no we don't have to go eat BBQ chips and a pizza. No we don't need to stay on the cardio machine another 30 minutes. NO we don't look fat in those pants.

I'm looking forward to working my ass off to get a better life. One where these thoughts aren't constantly breaking up my day.

I'm looking forward to a life where going to work won't be a struggle. And I will have enough nutrition in my body to stay focused and not forget things.

I'm looking forward to WANTING to eat which currently I don't have. It's all or nothing at the moment.

I'm looking forward to wanting to cook.

I'm looking forward to a new life. The life I was always meant to have.

Merry Krismas kids.

Krismas

I have like 5 minutes until my laptop dies.
I MUST stop forgetting my charger at work.

I have decided. To try my hardest. More than I have ever tried before. To not binge / purge all of December.

Now you'd think I would have obviously been trying so hard most of my 'recovery' life to not do this...but it was always a forever goal. Never again will I ever...

But this time it's just for Christmas.

I was talking to a friend and he asked me what do I want?

It was a very open ended question and I couldn't think of the answer.

I have not really thought about my life, or a life, or what I want because I've been so clouded with ED for so long.

All I could say was not have an eating disorder anymore.

So that's what I'm going to try to give to myself this year.

I have not had a 'normal' Christmas time since I was 14.

Now I know there'll be food. There'll be tons of booze. Indulgence galore. But I would really really love a season where I am not on a roller coaster with food, my body, my health and my eating disorder.

Last night at midnight I was just wanting to hurt myself because I felt stupid after talking to a guy, my friend was upset with me and I was alone.

So I went to binge but I saw that it was in fact December 1st and so I just said no and went to bed.

This is really all over the place but I'll write more tonight or tomorrow.

Sorry if it doesn't make sense.

Lastly, after the fiasco that was my parents' house. And a passive aggressive text from my mom today. I have decided to cut them out of my recovery life.

They will not know the bad or the good. That topic is not their business. And I think it's best that way.

I can't stand taking any more time focusing on how to try to fix my relationship with them when I have so much support here with you.

God I'm crying again.

You all mean so fucking much to me. Here's to day one!

How Dare You.

"How dare you have the audacity to throw up or think about throwing up in this home?
After everything we have done for you.
After nine years of this Kristin..."

In this home?
This home where my cries for help were met with anger and hostility and excuses.

In this home?
Where my dad would pick on me. Not answer my questions. Act like he didn't hear. Look at me with disgust and disapproval when all the while it's he himself he hates.

In this home?
Where I thought I was safe.

In this home?
Where my two role models made cutting remarks at one another. Muffled voices raising louder and louder as I hide under my pillow.

In this home?
Where everything must have a coaster. Don't paint your nails there. You did the vacuuming wrong. You got the wrong bread. It's not what you said it's your tone of voice.

In this home?
Where I'd ask to go on a walk with you and you were too tired. Where I try to introduce you to new movies that you still haven't watched. Where I try to tell you what it's like to be me and what I need help with and I'm met with a blank face.

In this home?
Where I am scared to be myself. I am scared to be anything but fine.

Yes I am that fucked up mom that I can't help but throw up one of the most anxiety causing dinners for all bulimics, overeaters and anorexics plus fucking normal people.

"I don't understand how you can do that."

"Mom, I'm a BULIMIC. I have a MENTAL DISORDER."

"I shouldn't have come home, it's not the  best place for me."

"How dare you say we are not a loving home."

"I didn't say that, it's just in treatment I wouldn't be met with anger, I would be met with understanding."

"I'm just mad you lied about not trying to throw up."

Could you imagine what would happen if I dared tell you the truth?

We calm down. Part ways.

Dad asks me like nothing happened to take out the recycling.

...fuck you.

I'm Full And So Hungry

Just finished a normal dinner.
ED is disgusted that I ate everything I am supposed to.
I have been home sick all day and the most exercise I've had is walking up and down the stairs to sleep.

My dad just walked in and I had to rewind the news to try to figure out WTF they were saying AGAIN.

"Did you get the mail like I asked?"
"I didn't know you asked me to."
"Fine. I'll get it."
Slams door.

Immediately my mind goes. OMG He's on a walk. I should walk. I haven't exercised. I feel fat...
The urge to get up and move and burn calories takes over. I can't sit here and type this much longer.

But I need to recognize that the only reason I want to walk is because my dad upset me. Talked down to me.
Not because I truly want to exercise.
My mind just goes there to cope.

Being here reminds me of the cutting remarks and the child-like behavior that I lived with my entire life. It doesn't help.

I had texted my dad asking him to pick up Sprite and Jello on his way home since my throat really hurts. He goes "Ok I'll just take the money I spend out of your checking account."

Now I may be being a brat but ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? I have had to move back in with you because I am so depressed, so desperate and drowning in debt and you can't buy me fucking Jello?

They'll put money toward an $800 new faucet but when I'm telling them to their faces that I am sad. I need help. And I can't afford it. The offer to help pay doesn't come up.

It's just like when I was in high school and finally asking for help. Trying to tell my mom about my anxiety and these thoughts. And she would shut me down. Tell me to cut it out. To stop being so selfish.

I told my mom I wanted to go to an energy healer (I think that's right). She just looks at me blankly.

"Well I think it'll help. I've tried other things. She can give me direction. It worked for multiple of my friends. I wanted to ask for it for Christmas."

"How much is it?"

"100 or more?"

Looks back at her computer.

As much as I wish it, it seems like somethings may never change.

So I also tried looking up therapists and dietitians today. Most of them are a 40 or more minute bus ride from my office. Which is just like my old commute and mostly why I stopped going.

The other therapists I found that are close are not in a network so I would pay out of pocket.

However with how little I make at my current job I can't afford a twice a week therapy dietitian thing.

But in order to get a new job I need more experience and my current job won't give me more experience and responsibility because I don't show up because of my bulimia...so...it's a circle.

I can't seem to get out of it.

I need a lucky break. A new job. A cheaper therapist. My parents to help out. I so desperately want to change and work to get healthy but I feel trapped.

Lastly, ChaCha and I are on a break  / broken up whatever you want to call it.
So I'm also losing one of my best friends. But I can? can't? be that sad becauase I'm mostly the one who wants it to end. Or I feel like it needs to. I won't go into details but it's pretty much over (he's abroad so we've only been able to text...sigh) so I'm mourning that too.

Sorry to be so depressing but I have every right to be. I just can't get stuck in it though.

So as always gratitude list:

That my parents let me stay here.
That there's a bus to Seattle near their house.
That I have a big support system.
That an interview I had today was able to be rescheduled.
That I have contacted three therapists.
It's ALMOST Thanksgiving!

So...I Moved Back In With My Parents.

Hi kids.

Checking in.

I'm not doing so well-still. 

I'm staying at my parents to help stop the BP cycle. Today will be the first full day I haven't done it in months. So that's good.

The fact that my mother drives me fucking crazy and she doesn't understand at all what it's like to have an ED and my dad is as emotional as a table...doesn't help. But I have my cats.

I don't know why I'm so sad one moment and then the next I'm mad.

I am like a junior high girl getting picked on at school. I run to the bathroom to hide my tears every other hour.

I just want to feel better / at least not like this so, my ED thoughts have come back. Like full force. I skimped on breakfast. Hated myself for eating lunch. And felt out of control when I was eating trail mix for a snack. Each peanut, chocolate, raisin (for goodness sakes) I regretted. 

What am I doing? Why am I eating? I have so much weight to lose. This isn't going to help.

I even had the thought that I have to lose weight to prove to work that I really am sick again so they won't fire me.

I forced myself to workout after work but I think I would explode with irrational anger when I got home if I didn't. But I did feel sexy and strong while doing so. 

However sick thoughts came flying through my head.

You're all about to learn how shallow I am. Er ED is (trying to separate the two).

My favorite ... their favorite thing to do is to picture myself as a gogo dancer. Yes that's right. All sexy and slim but fit. And tan oh so much spray tan. With big hair. Gorgeous makeup. Amazing costume. And I'm on stage and I'm free.

I can dance. I can listen to my favorite music. And best of all I look good. Damn good. And everyone loves me. Everyone wants to either do me or be me.

THAT is my dream. THAT is all I want.

WHAT a lame ass goal. But that's what ED wants. And thinks would make me happiest. And I'd just ride my life on that high forever.

When I go to shows I dress up in my costumes with my fake confidence (sometimes it's real though) and pretend that this is my real life. That I go with the flow. That I'm just here to have fun. To enjoy. That I don't give a fuck.

But it's not true. It's so opposite.

But I can't blame myself for wanting to escape because for whatever reasons (well I guess I know what they are. Important relationships are falling apart, I'm trapped in my work and I'm losing control of my recovery..er lost.). And all I know or can think of to do is either drink, binge, or exercise. Because nothing else seems to let me feel better or not feel.

I have been holding it all in. I'm so afraid of what will happen if I let it go. I don't even know what IT is though. I'm not sure what's wrong other than I feel wrong. Sad. Mad

But then I'm just avoiding it. My friend reminded me of that today. And she's right. But I want to pretend that recent events didn't happen and they aren't happening. I'm too scared of what will happen if I let them in if I give them weight and truth.

In a life, the life I want to live I know that everything will need to be seen and felt. I would wear my heart on the outside.

My friend sent me this letter that another woman wrote to her ED. She was breaking up with it. And this really inspired me.

"When we were asked to describe ourselves as others see us, the words “fat” and “gross” were not among those used. It is time to remove those words from my vocabulary. It is time to end this book, finally, and begin another. It is time to say goodbye." 

I guess I couldn't have read this at a better time because Ed has been VERY loud. Loud like it used to be loud.

But I know when I'm being disordered and I just have to do the opposite. To tell that thought that it's wrong. That it's not true.

I'm kind of watching MNF while writing this so I hope it makes some sense.

As always I can't thank you all for reaching out to me. If anything I'd love to hear what you're going through. I'd love to get out of my own head and stop thinking about myself for once.

My friends have been great and they now know just how ugly I am inside but they have been nothing but supportive.

OK I'm going to look up nutritionists because one of you lovely (I mean that) people are texting me to do so.

Every Little Thing Is Going To Be Alright

I'm singing that. OUTLOUD to myself right now.

Don't worry. About a thing.

Ok cheesy but I have been in such a low place that this whatever it is feels like the best shit ever.

I feel like I can do this. Like I can be ok. Like I can have a new life.

A new life where I don't have to take out my trash can full of puke before friends come over.
A new life where I don't have to take out my trash can full of the boxes of food I ate before friends come over.
A new life where I don't have to make up at the gym for what I did last night.
A new life ... what no not new life ... I don't want a new one ... I have the makings for a fine one right here. I want an IMPROVED life.

So I just talked with my friend who is 30 bomb blonde and so wise beyond her years. She's like the big sister I never had and my idol. I got the guts to ask her to talk about everything that's going on. (Some things have happened that I haven't shared with you all) And she totally put my mind at ease. Made things seem easier, more hopeful, like I have a direction.

And actually that's how I feel after any one of you message me. Suggest advice. Talk. Text. Call.

I feel a spark of hope and then I ride that for  a bit until I hit another down...

And in the past I have stayed down but now I'm getting the courage to ask for help and you're giving it to me. You people are not as mean, judgemental, disgusted by me as I thought and I really appreciate it.

I was able to talk to another friend about food and exercise and tell her all of my confusion I've had for two months and start to sort it out.

Lord this isn't making sense. I'm just so damn happy that I don't want to throw food down my throat...that I want to throw food down my throat. HA.

BUT tomorrow I'm going to Pretty Lights and Odesza and ain't nobody got time to be tired when that's happening.

So I wanted to write and tell you guys that all day all fucking day I have held back tears and now after talking I don't want to. So I guess I should keep doing this talking thing.

So anyway I guess it will just really take a day by day hour by hour thing to help me not binge. And I'm ok with that because that's how life should be lived anyway.

Night.

How Am I?

Many of you ask this to me on a daily basis. Whether you want just the basics, to know what's currently on my mind or you mean like seriously--how are you?

I am not very good at honestly answering this question.
I have not written or truly answered it for what feels like forever.
I've been living in a numb state.
And while that sounds dramatic when I really look at my actions and my life and everything it's true.

There are definitely ups. I mean I'm still having a social life. Something good at work. I hang out with my cat. But mostly I think if I really thought about it it wouldn't be so good.

So together we are going to really think about it.

I have been bingeing and purging 2-4xs a night. Every night.
I am sick once again from me killing my immune system.
I do not want to go to work.
I do not want to workout.
I do not want to eat normally.
I do not want to look at myself in the mirror.
I do not want to leave my house.

I have depleted all of my savings on food and treatment. I have nothing left. I'm living paycheck to paycheck for the first time in my life and its not a big paycheck.

It gives me great anxiety. But I cared so much for so many years about money and savings that I immediately reject any kind of rules around money.

Me: "no coffee today!"
Friend: "want coffee?"
Me: "yes!"

Balls.

Also I'm looking at food this way too. I do not know how to eat a normal dinner anymore. Nothing-NOTHING looks appetizing. And I'm also afraid to eat for fear of binge...which I figure will come anyway so I give in. What I now have to eat in order to be full enough to throw up is. 3 mini pizzas. A bag of chips (yes the family size). A container of those ready to make biscuits. And usually 12 donuts. I have my go to foods that I know I can eat fast and throw up and that are cheaper.

Lately though it hasn't been coming up. And then I'm scared shitless of everything I ate. Then I hate myself more.

Oh and that brings me to the fact that I was weighed yesterday. 153 lbs. Fuck. Fuck me. That number. My thighs. My belly. Fuck me.

But then as soon as I try to get back into the gym habit I reject that too. I can't force myself to do it. I don't want to live by those rules again. Where I restrict all day. Ditch friends to go to the gym. Push myself harder as I tell myself just 10 more minutes.

So as you can see my thinking is fucked.

BUT at work it's so fucking busy that I can barely find time to go on a walk let alone look for therapists. But it's so apparent I need one.

My friends even sat me down to say they are worried. "I can't be that bad--can I?"

"Tomorrow, tomorrow I'll try harder."

Today is my tomorrow and I just finished bingeing. Threw some tater tots in there-they were not as good as I expected.

I don't really know where I'm going with this. Oh standard blog style for me means up next is what's going right.

I HAVE been able to fight and go to work mostly every day.
I HAVE been able to make my personal training appointments where I start to feel strong and hopeful again.
I HAVE been able to open up my circle of trust (God that sounds so cheesy) and ask for help from friends.
I HAVE a list of therapists and went to the doctor yesterday who gave me some more dietitian names.
I HAVE gotten in touch with a friend about church and am going to try the higher power route.

And I keep having this confusing thought-what if life was meant to be enjoyed? What if all of my decisions could be made on that? And not like oh right now enjoy but what if I write my blog post and then later I feel better and get some support from you all? What if I push myself to go to work every morning so I'm not at risk of losing my job? What if I say no to the extra 20 minutes at the gym so I have energy tomorrow? What if I don't binge tonight so I'm not depressed the next day?

But then all of these rules and thoughts and anxiety get in the way. And I get so confused.

So I hope this makes sense to you because well it makes sense to me.

Basically it sounds like I'm lost and I really need direction and some hope which I think will only come from a customized recovery plan. Soon to come. Promise.

The Face of Bulimia

I was talking to a friend today about how we get jealous of our friends, coworkers and colleagues from facebook.

Of course we mostly look perfect (even if it is a silly picture), we tag ourselves at only the cool places, and do status updates that beg congratulations or at least a zillion comments about how "Mondays totally suck."

And I am guilty of this. I mean who isn't? It's not like we think our life is facebook-we know there's bad and the ugly too. But it's not out there. Which is why I think my blog is so popular.

And now what I'm about to show you isn't to get more readers, make my stats go up--whatever. What I'm about to show you is incredibly private.

No one has ever seen me binge and purge. It's been my secret for years and is slowly unfolding as I recover.

I just finished eating 9 muffins and 12 pancakes plus a yogurt (to help it come up easily) while watching Netflix. I ignored a text from my boy friend and a call from my mom (it's her birthday). My bedtime was 30 minutes ago seeing how I have to be at work at 7 AM and go to four meetings, finish my normal workload, apply for other jobs, go to an AA meeting, go to a personal training session and then dinner with my man and then another AA meeting.

This is my life it's its most honest, true, raw form. I have this fulfilling meaningful life with people I love and support and then I come home and I have my secrets, my shame and my eating disorder.

Last thing I'll say is that it always surprises me who reads this and who is kind enough to reach out to me. I am risking coworkers, ex boyfriends, my current man, aunt, mom's best friend, and future employers seeing this. But I feel more compelled to show you all the many faces of me. This is not who I am because I am not bulimia but it most certainly is a part of me. And maybe if it's out there and it's not so secret it can't have this hold on me. This shame.

Here is me on my best day:

And here is me now, after a binge:

You can see how swollen my face is from leaning over the toilet. My lips my nose even. And my jaw has started to get stuck open and swollen right next to my ears which freaks the fuck out of me but not enough to stop.

I'm not sure what I want out of this post--selfishly it's for me. So expose my ed and say that even though you see this---this thing that I become during a binge--that doesn't mean that's who I am. That doesn't mean you won't like me. The shame and secrecy is gone. It's all out there for anyone to see. It now holds no more power over me.

I'm Being A Total Brat

I just realized I'm acting like a 5 year old.
Not that I'm around many 5 year olds but I think that's what they act like. Hm maybe more like a 7 year old.
Like I'm in that annoying phase where I just piss everyone off and I've lost all cuteness.

I can't stop moving around. I'm fidgety and feisty. I have been shaking my leg nonstop for like a week.

I want to make others feel as bad as I do.

I stayed at work until 8ish last night and I just HAD to tell my coworker that left early all about it. I wanted to make him feel bad that for once he took a break (when in reality he works as hard as I do and shows up to work on time).

But no I had to rub it in his face that he not only felt early, but he didn't stay to enjoy the BBQ I planned with the rest of the "Fun Committee" team. So rude.

Another reason I stayed so late last night was because I had come in late that morning.
I was late because I decided to throw up my oatmeal. Eat some more and do it again. And again.

When I got on my bike to race to work by 10:30 AM I felt free. I had left that little place I call home that's like a cage with me and my food and my hatred and my desires. As soon as I got out I realized that life is out there. I could go act like a normal person.

But then as soon as I got to work its like the doors closed on my cell again. There was more food and more stresses and more people. So I went to work, all day and late into the night. And by went ot work I mean I did my job like a boss but I also did not give into my binge desires. Even with free food all around plus a bbq and no one watching me.

And I fought hard-well that is until I didn't.

I got home and felt the need for SOMETHING-anything. Let me get out of this anxious feeling. Let me do something about this anger I have at work for makig me stay until 8 at night.

So naturally I ignored my small protests and went to the store.
I fought with myself back and forth, longer and harder than I have in a while but I gave in and ate a bazillion pancakes and got rid of them.

I felt calm. I felt better. But I also felt well sick. Sick of this. This is no way to live.

I prayed.

Then I had this idea to shower and as I did I asked God that he wash away my binge desires, my selfishness, these urges, this wicked disease.

I awoke ready to be at work on time and get shit done. Now I think I can make my new addiction work--we'll see how long this goes.

I awoke determined to have that free feeling again where I am not held down by the chains and rules of ED.

Then that vigor and fire to do right dwindled (yes in less than ten minutes)...my mind started to feel sorry for myself. Poor me that I'm so helpless over my bulimia. That I just can't fucking stop. That my work stresses me out so much no wonder I don't want to show up. No wonder I am tired all the time. No wonder I binge and purge as soon as I'm home because I want escape.

But am I really that different from anyone else? Yes I have a disease but I'm not the only one stressed.

AND something that's really just pissed me off is that I am on probation for missing so many days because of being out sick from bingeing and purging. So I can't miss anymore days but NOW they are upset that I'm not coming in on time. And while yes that's legit does anyone see HOW LATE I STAY? How I do do my work when I'm here?

And I'm pissed that I can't get a fucking raise after two years of being here because of my attendance but I have a fucking true deadly legit disease?!

Is this alright to be upset about?

My mind is racing back and forth from no no no say the serenity prayer to FUCK THEM ALL!

#crazy.

Wasted.

I realized the only time I deal with what I'm feeling is when I write in here because otherwise I just avoid it by watching Friday Night Lights or bingeing or both.

I was doing well for four days. Feeling like I had really changed. Was on the right track when. BAM. Friday night I did it. And so Saturday I tried not to but my anti puking skills were down from the day before so I just lost control again.

I was just standing in the aisles of QFC trying to find the latest and greatest food to eat. Since none of the other ones, even my best go-tos cut it anymore.

I got home and forced down three boxes of cereal. Ended up with a massive headache and didn't get out of bed until 8 PM.

This is kicking my ass.

But it's so hard to pul out of this when I'm in it.

It's a cylce. I've typed that so many times and even now, as I type out how much it sucks, just talking about it makes me want to do it. Again.

It makes no sense!

I feel ashamed and embarrassed that I was supposed to have a super productive cool weekend by working PAX and going to Bumbershoot and I got so sick I couldn't do either.

I bailed on friends.

I hate myself for doing it but obviously ed just makes itself more important.

Right now I could go wash my sheets, go donate clothes, figure out how the fuck to use mint.com. Apartment hunt. Paint my nails...and yet eating pancakes is what I'm likely to do.

BUT I have planned to go to an AA meeting tonight with a friend so I can't bail. AND I am planning on working all day tomorrow at PAX and then see Bassnectar after.

Not all will be lost to this. I can pull out of this. I have in the past and I will now.

So I Bought Some Pancake Mix.

I have had a long day.
I was at PAX this morning at 6:45 AM with my fake eyelashes on ready to charm some gamers.
Then when my short whirlwind shift of meeting a ton of people that have all worked together before in an overwhelming electronic environment I went to my real job and pushed through 9.5 frustrating hours of something to do every time I finished something else.

I was very very tempted to binge at that point. I had a whole box of cereal. I could just eat it all. Not have to focus on my work or the stress...just eat and get a high off it being secretive. But I didn't because I remembered that this feeling will pass.

I get home around 6:45 and know I have a meeting to go to for AA that I didn't go to last week because I was sick from bingeing and I don't want to go now because I just got a note that my rent is going up $80 and I feel trapped and like everything is pulling at me and I have no control. I want to sit and eat as much salad as I can because that's the 'safe' way to binge. I don't have the courage to tell anyone in my AA group I'm not coming-so I don't.

I then proceed to try and back out of my other plans I have that night. A birthday party in Ballard.

It's with my best girl friends at a really awesome place but I don't want to go. I'd rather hide. My anxiety is through the roof. I'm not sure if I'd drink if I went out. It sounds nice. But what happens if I stay home? Do I binge?

And then I think more about going out. I always feel in adequate. My friends are just gorgeous. Always get hit on. Have a cool confidence about them. And I just don't measure up. The thought of me having to be the ugly girl in the group, the odd one out scares the fuck out of me.

So I bail.

But they don't let me.
And I'm glad.

All it took was the two of them saying they understand but they'd like to see me anyway. They challenged Ed. In a way it was saying yes you feel that way but you don't have to keep feeling that way. you don't have to act on those thoughts.

Oh. I though. Oh ok.

And to see that someone cared. Someone actually wanted me around. THat I could be a PART of the gorgeous hilariousness that are my friends was so flattering-how could I say no?

So I changed my outfit too many times. Paid $30 taxi fare and went out.

I was welcomed warmly.

And then as my nerves settled I found myself talking and making people laugh. Engaging in conversation...not feeling on the outside but like I belonged.

THIS this is why I love these girls. Why as jealous of their looks as I am I admire them more. Who they are, how they treat people and how they treat themselves.

We ended up going to a bar bar and it was loud and no fun. My anxiety skyrocketed. I'm not sure why but I couldn't focus or calm my nerves.

My friends drove me home just in time for my bedtime. They went way out of their way to do this and what do I do?

I get home and turn around and go to the grocery store.

I don't know why but I feel I need something.
I get to the store and fill my cart with hate, doubt, insecurity and shame aka cereal and pancake mix.

WTF am I doing? Did my friends just not totally show me the help I've been wanting and what do I do? Throw it all away? I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. You're fucking stupid. You're going to have to tell them the truth and then they'll never want to deal with you again.

But here I am with the pancake mix still in it's box. The cereal was never bought. And I'm blogging. I'm not eating and I'm very much looking forward to my bed.

I'm sleepy. Good night.

I Would Like To Eat a Box of Cereal.

This is really hard.

All I have to do is NOT over eat and throw up.

There are plenty of other things to do.

Like watch the stupidfucking Oakland Raiders get stomped by the Seahawks.

My nails.

Look for a cat.

Look for an apartment that allows cats.

Shower.

Do my dishes.

Watch Netflix.

Sit...

And yet all I want to do is eat the cereal I bought-eat all of it-and throw up. Well mostly I just want to eat it. I don't really want to throw up. It isn't easy like it used to be. And I feel like butt hole the next day after throwing up. And then I waste money. And then I'm mad at myself. And there are people who can't even afford cereal and I just want to throw it up.

Oh shit. AND I just spent $800+ on personal training for the next three months which makes me want to just scream for joy and in fear.

I'm doing this so I can hopefully be more in touch with my body. How it works. What is actually good for it. What is not. And mostly to see how 'normal' people workout. I have all these ideas of what cardio machines are best. How much cardio I MUST do. What doesn't work aka everything that's not on a cardio machine. All of these disordered / confused American 20 something girl thoughts and I want to set them right.

So my first sesh is on Tuesday. 

I also shouldn't binge because I work PAX tomorrow morning and have to be there at the crack of dawn. I have to be on my game. Then I have to work at real work. Then possibly workout. Then go to a meeting. Then go out with friends for a friends birthday.

Sorry Ed but I got shit to do.

Day four. Down. Well almost down. (pun not intended).

3 Months Sober!

While I've had a hell of a time with the eating disorder I'm happy to say that by the grace of God I haven't had any alcohol for three months. This is of course after the Sasquatch drinking binge that ended in total embarrassment and shame. But I'm happy that I hit that low so I could feel this high.

And I think that's what I'm doing now with bulimia. (or at least I really hope so). For the first time that I'm aware of it I'm giving myself multiple reasons to NOT over eat and throw up rather than the opposite.

And for the first time EVER I am wondering why is it that I care so much about being thin? What does that even mean? Why does it matter?

I can answer that though. It makes my life 'easier.'
It makes girls jealous of me and like me.
It makes people ask if I'm a model.
It makes people ask what my diet and workout routine is (aka starvation / hell)
I can wear just about anything except for a bra (i get flatter than a fucking pancake when I get skinny).
And it makes people think I'm attractive so therefore they like me and then that's my ultimate goal.

All of this was to not be rejected. To not be hurt.

Because so much of my past from the molestation to the teasing to the bullying was all so painful and excrutiating that I put up my wall against it-controlled the one thing I could-my looks.

I'm off to an AA meeting (in a half hour...I need to do my "natural" make up and find an outfit that says "I don't care" when I totally do. I'm going to be on time for once. And I can't wait to announce I have 90 days.

Loves.

Two Days Down.

I said I'd write in here every day so I'm going to do just that. But as fast as I can because I'm eating dinner.

I didn't binge or purge last night. And I am so thankful for the cycle to be stopped (at least for now).

And now I'm swinging the other way...

I tried all day to eat as little as I could only to give in when my stomach turned and I got light headed.

I just can't do it anymore.

I forced myself to workout after work for fear of what would happen if I didn't.

My mouth is still sore from throwing up and I have cuts where my gum and lips join that hurt really fucking bad and so the final thing that stopped me from bingeing today are the thought of them tearing further.

Also I reminded myself that I told my lead I'd be to work at 7:30 AM and take a picture of my desk every morning to prove it. (She didn't ask me to do this...I volunteered).

Then I thought about the fact that I have to wear jeans to work this weekend...I HATE JEANS...and the thought of putting them on makes me wish I stopped eating a week ago.

Then my mind went to how much it hurts to throw up now.
How hungover I feel the next day.
The rushing regret that comes moments after I'm done.
The shame.
And how I can't stop once I start. There is no such thing as a little or just once with me.

And then my disordered brain finally remembered those of you who've written me encouraging texts and messages especially in the past day.

And I'm going to have to have you all believe and love me until I can see it myself. And you're doing a wonderful job.

Tomorrow I make the decision to go back into Intensive Out Patient. Meaning I'll be going 4 days a week again.

This scares me because of a lack of a social life I'll have, how much time I'll spend commuting, how I'll miss AA meetings...but then when I really am honest with myself I haven't been doing any of those things because I've been getting sick.

Ok I'm going to go skimp on my dinner and watch Mud.

Love you guys.

I Need Some Help.

Hey guys. I haven't been writing because I was slowly going downhill and then I tripped and went down fast.

I guess it started with skimping on program, making excuses to not show up to things, being afraid to leave the house and believing the best use of my time was to constantly binge and purge. Even at work.

I've lost control of my behaviors once again and see my life falling apart.

I can fake it for a while that I'm ok and that's when I avoid food altogether. Yesterday I thought I was getting on track but then I realized that I was just not eating all day only to come home and give in. Or I'll be normal and social for a couple of hours only to have my mind race about what I can eat next and when I can go back to "that place."

I hate myself for bingeing and I binge because I hate myself.

It's getting incredibly hard to get out of bed in the morning because I just don't give a fuck. It's easier to stay in it and avoid everything. Avoid my thoughts. My urges. My friends. Family. Job. Responsibilities. FUN.

But then when my job is threatened and I really must go and I do get out of bed I see how much my life is affected by bulimia.

I plan things and miss out on them.
I waste so much money on food.
I waste money on not going to things I bought tickets for.
I let people down that I say I'll show up for.
I'm constantly late to everything.

And the shame of being where I'm at now is so bad that it has taken me a month to tell you all the truth.

I'm bingeing at least twice a day and hard. My throat is raw. I'm swollen. I'm tired. And I'm depressed.

I woke up to a text that said "Today is the day of complete recovery! You are made new each day. Praying for a healthy and happy day! You were made for more Kris."

"Made for more" resonated with me and hit a nerve. I am made for more. My life is not about trying to live this double life of self hate and loathing and shame and then being happy go lucky me.

So I've taken initiative to try somethings to get me out of this:

-I'm texting my lead a picture of my desk when I arrive on time every morning
-I'm going to write in this daily
-I'm going to eat a cookie a week (I never let myself have treats unless I throw them up)
-I'm going to check in with people at dinner
-I'm going to go to as many aa and treatment things as I can

I have lost my footing and my hope and my common sense. I don't know what way is up or how to have the energy to climb but I know that when I show some willingness amazing things will happen.

Thanks for your support and for reading.

Let's Get Sexual.

I've been waiting for you.

The anticipation is killing me.

This excitement only comes with the unknown.

My heart skips a beat. My head races.

Then I see you.

My stomach drops.

You start off slow. Tease me.

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

My body is alive with anticipation.

My breath quickens.

I let out a yell.

I can't help myself. 

I want you. All of you.

You've enveloped my senses.

I don't know where I am.

What have you done.

Don't stop.

You bite at my ears.

Play with my hair.

I stretch my body to the sky.

Vulnerable.

It's just us.

Just do it. 

Make me lose control.

And with one movement. In one second. 

You have all of me. I'm yours.

Pulse push twist turn. 

Grab me. Hold me.

Make me work.

Push me harder. Pump it faster.

Excitement shakes through my body.

Here it comes.

Lift me up. Get me high.

Sweat drips. Hearts race.

I pulse to your pace.

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

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

You make me feel alive. Transformed

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

Make the impossible possible.

There's nothing other than this moment.

And this is all I need.

Exhausted you slow.

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

Present.

You are my hope. 

My ease. Happiness. 

Maybe everything will be ok.

Maybe life is this simple.

EDM you are everything. 

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

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