The World Ended Last Night

I thought my world ended last night.
I thought I couldn't bear to go on another second in this body, in this way.

But I woke up this morning dehydrated, swollen and exhausted.

Looks like my world didn't end.

Last night I had my monthly breakdown.
But this one scared me more than the others.
I didn't think it was possible to hate myself more than I did the day before but that's what happened.

I was having a wonderful week. The promises of AA and early sobriety started to come true. I was feeling free and happy. I was also following my meal plan. Having a treat if I wanted to / when I wanted to. I wasn't drinking. I wasn't forcing myself to workout. It felt like I was starting to have a life.

Then 'reality' hit me and hit me hard.

I just casually went to try on pants and after 15 pairs not a one fit. A couple were too big but mostly they were too small, one size large wouldn't even go over my calf for goodness sakes. With every pair I would get this false hope that maybe this size 11 / 13 would prove Ed wrong. Maybe this one will fit and make me feel better. It didn't happen.

My mind began to race. Fuck. What the fuck have I been doing eating what I want? Not restricting? Not working out? I had to see the ultimate determinate. My weight.

I went to my gym and weighed myself and I saw the blue florescent light scream 152 lbs at me.

This is the most I've weighed in my entire life.

I lost it.

I walked home crying and as soon as I hit the door I sobbed, heaved, snotted, screamed at nothing. I couldn't stop scraping at my legs and arms and stomach saying "get off of me, get off of me."

Everything I've been told has been a lie. Treatment AA my friends etc. I was consistently gaining weight and I'd much rather have a size 6 slip off of me than a 13 stay at my calves. How could I have believed them? What the fuck have I done to myself? I can't go anywhere. I can't get rid of this fat immediately. What the fuck am I going to do?

I was scared I would actually hurt myself so I got my sponsor to come over.
She told me to pray but I couldn't move onto my knees because I couldn't stand my thighs touching one another.

She eventually got me calm down. I know that not eating won't REALLY help but I don't know what will. That is a hopeless and scary feeling.

After about an hour of me freaking out into exhaustion, she left and I felt hopeful, calm.
I talked to ChaCha and told him I was fine-which I thought I was.

I went to get Powerade and then the next thing I know I'm eating anything and everything in my house and what I bought at the store.
And you know the rest.

I look at the clock as I clean up. It's 12:30 AM.

I am going to be late for work tomorrow. I'm going to feel like shit. Fuck I did it again. Fuck me. Seriously fuck me. I'm so fucking done. I complain about how I don't want to gain anymore weight and what do I do? I eat.

I'm so so so so sick of this cycle. And you've heard me say that and I'm sick of saying it. But since it's a cycle I have to break it. I have to do something different. However, doing something different is easier than said (obvi or else I would have done it now).

I've tried changing my diet, writing signs on my cabinets, drinking, not drinking, working out everyday, not working out everyday, putting a bathing suit in my kitchen, treatment centers, checking in after every meal...etc you name it. I've tried it.

But everything I've tried have all been tangible things. Human things. The one I haven't really tried is something that I can't see - a power greater than myself.

I've tried going to church and believing what I heard but that didn't work.

In AA I'm learning that I can make my own conception of a God. I need to give him my struggles and my urges because I know I'm powerless over them. And supposedly He isn't.

Phew that's a lot. Thanks for reading. Happy Hump Day!

Relapse

I've been avoiding you.

It's not you. It's me.

If I write it out, then I have to face it. I have to feel this shame and hate and guilt. I have to come to terms with my weight gain. And I'm going to be a hot mess after this post is over.

I'm already snotting all over myself from thinking about what to write.

Ed is coming back.

About a week ago, I tried on my leggings (which are my always comfy go-to safe pants) and they were tight. So I tried on another pair trying to keep my spirits up. And as I stripped off each failed pair my positivity went with it. This was proof—I've gained more weight.

Since that Tuesday morning I have had nonstop thoughts about exercise, how much I hate my body, how uncomfortable I am at this weight and that I should start restricting.

I mean I go upstairs or on walks and have to hold my hand across my stomach because it jiggles.

My leggings dig into my sides when I sit down.

My boobs don't even fit in my bras anymore. Which is what I thought I wanted but now there's no hiding them.

Yesterday I went out and it took me a while to get dressed. Nothing fit right because I was exploding out of the tops and bottoms. I finally put on my comfy pair of (get this) pink leopard pants (SUPER stretchy) and a tank that covered these bad girls. I walked to get a cab and got stared at and hit on by three different guys. Which you would think is flattering but they don't know that this is all I have to wear. I'm trying to act confident and not cry in front of the drunk black gentleman (ahem guy) asking where I'm headed if he can holler, I'm losing it inside. He doesn't know that behind my heavily mascaraed eyes, push up bra (the only one left that fits) and my skin tight pants that the last thing I want is to be seen.

It's so shameful that you, them, everyone can see me, my fat, my failure. It's there and it's big and it's in plain sight.

I am so ashamed. So disgusted with my body. I want out.

These thoughts are exhausting.

Ed's starting to choose what I wear, what I eat, how I spend my time (aka choosing the gym over friends). I'm losing my life again. But I don't know how to stop it because he's so strong and so convincing. And I am so unhappy.

I believe I'm right. I believe I've gained too much weight and this needs to stop.

My recovery team was saying it's possible that my mind is creating this sensitivity to clothing and obsession. But I do not believe that my mind is that warped, that fucked up. It has to be true that I'm fat. And that it's not stopping. It's like if you touch an oven that's on and your brain tells you it's hot then you know it's hot. The way my clothes fit, the jiggling, the uncomfortability…that's my brain telling me how much I've gained. It's not ok.

Especially not now. Come on man not during the start of spring / summer. Not when I have to wear less. Be more social. Have girls that are thin running around in outfits I wish I could wear. This is usually my favorite time, I mean hello have you seen Seattle in the summer? But I can't do summer because I don't have anything to wear.

I tried on my shorts—every last pair. And NONE of them fit. What used to fall off of me a year ago is now SKIN tight. And when I went to shop for more in sizes like 30 and 13 they didn't fit. They were too tight. I don't fit in anywhere. I'm just too big. I don't get it. I don't understand how other girls are thin and don't have this. Why am I so large why can't I eat and not get fat?

I tried so hard to do this right but I can't. I can't be this big. It's a huge red flag. I MUST lose weight. Or else I'll continue to be this obsessed and miserable.

But I'm so confused because I was miserable when I was thin.  But now that I'm fat I'm more uncomfortable, filled with more hate. Recovery is supposed to make me feel better. But now I don't believe that I need to eat as much as they are telling me. I believe my disordered ways worked…at least in the weight category.

I'm also confused because I had this photo shoot for fun and people are leaving incredibly nice comments on them. I think they are making them up. How could THAT be pretty? THAT body be admired? It's disgusting.

I can't even walk normally because I hate how my thighs touch. I don't like showering because then it's just me and my body.

I don't know if this will even make sense to anyone who doesn't have one but I'm hurting. I'm so confused. I'm so incredibly uncomfortable. And I'm full of hate. The only thing keeping me going is that every day I eat less and workout more is a day closer to being comfortable.

Fuck You Itty Bitty Bikini

I'm so sick of fighting with myself.

I'm sick of the up and down and the "you're ok" "no you're not" "you're fat" "you do need to eat" "no you don't"...

My legs are sore from working out.

My feet hurt from standing and walking and running so much—but I can't bare to sit down because it makes me feel fat. I've convinced myself that I must stand to burn more calories.

I've been doing 45 minutes or more of cardio everyday for two weeks almost, but yesterday I took the entire day off because I was weak. I lost sight of my goal, which is to lose 5 pounds immediately.

I've given into my urges to eat bites of a cookie. To have an extra protein bar to try to not be so hungry later, but that never works, I'm always hungry.

As I sat on the bus today I felt my fat stick over the side of my shorts. I felt the elastic squeeze me tighter—that sensation wasn't there before. I am reminded of my failure.

My bra doesn’t fit right because I have boobs again—I missed them.

I run up the stairs to my studio and feel my ass jiggle. Another cue. I clench my teeth and begin to condemn myself for not trying hard enough for not being better at losing weight.

I am weak for giving up. I am weak for not being able to go meals without eating. For not wanting to throw up after one. For not saying no to cookies at work.

I hate others that are thin that eat whatever they want with no abandon. Skinny girls that walk around in their cute outfits drinking, not caring about the calories.

I try on countless outfits only to end up in my underwear with clothes littered around me. I am faced with just my reflection. I'm in my Victoria's Secret matching set. I look nothing like those models.

I look away to avoid crying.

After dinner and giving into eating more than I should I have to pack for a river floating trip.

I get everything done except my bikini. I put my game face on and grab the one I'm always comfortable in. The one with the bottoms that sometimes sag and make me feel ok. I pull them on, there is no sag, they are tight and I'm ballooning out of every inch of it. And no I'm not being sarcastic. They don't fit anymore and it looks like I'm trying to wear a fucking thong rather than bottoms.

I try on another pair, my cellulite is there for all to see. My imperfections standing loud and proud. Mocking me.

I try on one more and they are a little better. But as my eyes trace my thighs that touch and my dimpled skin and my curves I feel them coming, the tears, the hot white anger and the shame.
There's nowhere for me to go, to hide, to make things better, this here and now is who I am and I can't fucking stand it.

I'm torn between breaking down and ripping my body to shreds. Screaming, throwing, fighting, destroying whatever I can. Then I cry. I pull the bottoms off and hide in a blanket. Me and my pathetic self.

Did you know that I haven't worn a bathing suit all summer? Well now you do. Not once. You know what's sad to me is that I work out all the fucking time and I'm still not in good enough shape to be seen almost naked. And I'll go through this entire summer hiding. When will I be good enough?

And it upsets me that I feel this way. I really wish I didn't. I envy guys that can just pull on baggy board shorts and go. For girls it's not easy.  I wish I could remember what I just realized recently. I truly understand what they say about media's influence on us.

The only life I really know outside my own is what's on tv or what people chose to tell me. So all I've seen about norms with sex, relationships, success, body image has been learned through television. But when I go to the beach and see girls that are heavier than me pulling off bathing suits with more confidence than me, it puts me at ease. I see the truth I guess. But I don't ever remember this. Plus if the movie stars can look perfect then why not me?

Fuckers.