Sweet Cherry Pie

I woke up this morning with so many thoughts racing through my head about what I did last night.

I had gone out.

I had binged and purged earlier that day even though I did everything I could to not.

I almost binged before going out.

Then I was extremely late because I couldn't find an outfit that looked right.

I get there and ran into at least three different graduating classes from high school.

I almost fought this duuuude...duchebag…who flicked his drink in my face when I told him to leave my girls and me alone.

I saw and talked to girls I used to envy and be afraid of in high school—ones I put on a pedestal, comparing myself to them constantly, knowing I'd never measure up.

I stayed out til the lights came on.

My DD got pulled over.

We stopped at 7-11 for goodies…I made an impulse decision.

I got home and ate.

Now, usually all of these things would be bad. Usually I would have had too much to drink and have racing thoughts of regret attached to each of the above statements. But last night I was sober and I didn't have my drunk goggles on, I saw my night through different glasses. It looked like this…

I went out last night. – Thank god because Ed had me wanting to give up, go home and isolate.

I had binged and purged earlier that day even though I did everything I could to try to not. – I was able to stop it before it got really bad.

I even almost binged before going out. – BUT I DIDN'T.

Then I couldn't find an outfit that looked right. – But I ended up finding one that showed off my new amazing, exquisite breasts (Anchor Man…) and even got compliments on them (THAT NEVER HAPPENS)

I get there and ran into at least three different graduating classes from high school. – Which was really fun, every time I turned around there was a new person I WANTED and ENJOYED talking to. I didn't get scared and quiet.

I almost fought this duuuude…douchebag…who flicked his drink in my face when I told him to leave my girls and me alone. – I was in a very sober state of mind and this guy who was trying to entice us with his drink sloshing and "baking" during Cherry Pie was not.

I saw and talked to girls I used to envy and be afraid of in high school—ones I put on a pedestal, comparing myself to them constantly, knowing I'd never measure up. – But they complimented me, said it was nice to see me, my nerves weren't there and the conversation was genuine, it was easy.

I stayed out til the lights came on. – which usually means I am at the bar trying to get in that one last drink but I was no where near the bar.

My DD got pulled over. – she was sober J

We stopped at 7-11 for goodies…I made an impulse decision. – I got a Slurpee and it felt great to get what I, me, Kris wanted not Ed (usually would have been cookies and candy bars).

I got home and ate. –I had a sammich because I was hungry and stopped there. Usually I would eat anything and everything until I felt sick and throw up in order to go to sleep.

I'm on a high right now, and it's the high I've been failing to get from food, exercise, booze, purging, restricting. It's this genuine, organic happiness … this light.

I have a clear head, I remember everything last night, I didn't check out, I don't regret anything. Oh AND I found $20 on the floor. BOOM.

I've had a VERY hard time lately. I can't seem to not listen to Ed when he tells me "just this one last time we'll eat this…" "just have the cookie … and add this peanut butter to it and maybe syrup would taste good" "Well you've already started might as well go for two more bowls of cereal…." "You have a disease … just give in to me…" 

I've been trying to find that combination of food and flavors that makes me feel happy, high, relaxed … but after many binges and attempts I've come up with nothing but pain.

But I've found it here.

And I've found it because I was honest about my struggles, and because I acted rather than reacted.

I went to an AA meeting at 7:30 before going out. And after I prefunked with a latte and a girl who has 18 months sober. We talked about our addict state of mind. I felt less alone, less like a freak, less ashamed. It was freeing, it's what I've needed and I want more.

I've found the gray area of my black and white mind.

And it's from doing what I'm told. 

It's from writing gratitude lists, staying in a positive state of mind, from trying, from giving a shit about myself, from going to treatment everyday and from calling up ChaCha and telling him I need help, from going to AA meetings and confessing that I have an alcoholic state of mind. It's from doing the work that I need to do and following direction.

I had to do a lot of reaching out, going out of my comfort zone and talking back to my disease last night. It was not easy but my God was it worth it.

THANK YOU to all of you who read. Every time I go out I'm approached by a new person who reads this mess of madness and confession. 

It's an embarrassing yet flattering feeling. 

Your kindness, encouragement and words lift me up and I'm truly grateful for you. 

God bless!

All You Have To Do Is Ask

My knees hurt from the tile. My left hand clasps the porcelain, while my right has teeth marks on it. My heart races.

Just keep going. You did this to yourself. The cake I ate ten minutes ago fills the toilet while relief fills my head.

I finish, brush my teeth and stop to look at myself in the mirror. I've popped blood vessels in my face, they look like freckles. My mascara is running down my face. I leave the bathroom in disgust.

I try to write.

I can't. I'm shaking too badly. Tears fill my eyes.

I do what I don't want to-I call my sponsor.

"I've done it again. I drank last night. I didn't want to. I over ate last night. I didn't want to. I ate a cake this morning. I didn't want to. I threw it up. I didn't want to. I called you. I didn't want to."

Deep breath.


"I want help."


And that's all I've gotten since I said those words.

I called my best friend. She listened to me. She let me cry. She gave it to me straight, I need help, I've needed it for a while. She gave me love and understanding at my lowest point.

I recieved a call from an old friend who has a similar story, only thing different is she's no longer sick. She told me I'm not alone, that I can recover, she told me that I deserve happiness. And I'm tempted to believe her.

That night at a wedding I met a woman who's a recovering alcoholic. She told me her story of multiple relapses and how she's healthy now. She told me it's not going to be easy but that if I keep working, I'll get there.

The next day, Sunday, I went to church. The pastor spoke about God's love. How He loves us no matter what, no matter what I do, where I go, my sins, he's always there when I seek him. There's nothing you can't redeem. I needed to hear that.

Two women from my church prayed with me afterwards. They looked at me with sadness, understanding and hope in their eyes. Their words and prayers were full of love. They asked God to give me direction, to talk with me, to walk with me. They blessed me and my recovery.

Before I could leave the church Pastor James asked me how I was. He remembered my name and that I'm addict. He leaves for a three month sebatical and I was one of the last people he spoke to.

That evening I realized I could go to an ABA meeting so I grabbed my journal and raced out the door. I got there 5 minutes to 7 only to hear that it started at 6, I was an hour late, no one was there.

I called the one person I knew in the meeting, we have met once. She told me she was in Colorado, checking into an inpatient program for her ED. We talked for an hour like old friends with no abandon, we understand each other better than anyone else because of our struggle. I gave her hope to go to her first session tomorrow and she gave me  courage to call a friend for help.

I called that friend who I used to think was much more sick than I, turns out she's healthy and has been for a year. She got a number for a treatment center that's highly recommended and told me who to talk to and that she'd join me for my consolation.

I can't make this up even if I wanted to. God didn't leave my side for one second yesterday since I let go and said I can't do this on my own and he's not letting me.

Part II : Drive Drunk : Get Fucked.

You always hear this but I'm not going to be creative and use my writing skills because well this statement is true-It all happened so fast.


The glow of my cell phone fade after sending my friend a text. Looking down for somewhere to put my phone. My head whipping forward my body being jerked back by my seat belt. The unmistakable crunch of my car against another. My adrenaline pulsing, pumping.

Then everything slowed down, I left my body and watched myself come to the realization of what just happened. My hands shaking uncontrollably as I turned the keys. Crying, screaming, “Shit. Shit. Shit,” as the engine failed to start. This is really fucking happening. Right now. You just totaled your car. Oh God and you’re drunk.

Fuck.

PAUSE. Now, to address those of you assholes who are about to shake your head at me and my stupidity, my ignorance and my actions in what follows-SHUTTHEFUCKUP. I know I shouldn’t blow in the field, admit to drinking and driving, so crying in front of the officer. But if we are going that route you might as well throw in, I shouldn’t have driven. I shouldn’t have drank. I shouldn’t have called my ex. I shouldn’t have chugged vodka. BUT I FUCKING DID. Hence why there’s a story to be told. There are a million things I SHOULDN’T have done but this is what I did. So save it, because let me tell you, there wasn’t an hour for about 6 months that I didn’t think those thoughts myself.
PLAY.

Back to me ruining my life.

I hopped out of the car and ran home. THAT is how close I was. I barged through the door. Yelling at my parents the news they never want to hear. “I crashed Pearl-I’ve been drinking-mom HELP.”

My dad made a very valid point for it being roused, no jolted awake, at 1:30 am, “you left the scene of the accident?”

Oh. Shit. Yes, yes Dad it looks like I did.

I ran down my hill rounded the corner to the accident and knocked on the truck owner’s door. Telling him what I’d done. To my surprise he goes “Again?” My smart ass wants to say “No, no sir, this is the first time I’ve done this.” What he really meant was that this has happened before, since he’s an idiot that parks on a corner on a narrow road that’s lined on either side with cars – or not wait, if we are talking about idiots, I may have this one in the bag.

It gets blurry.

The cops came. The lights flashed way too bright for my liking. The cop was an ass. He was condescending and as my parents watched from the opposite side of the street he talked to his intern kid as though I wasn’t there. I remember walking that invisible line, the flash light in my eyes and my mom across the street with her hands to her face, horrified.

I got cuffed, put in the back of the car, because while I failed the tests, I succeeded in being caught drunk driving.

I blew once in the field .15, then at the station a .122 … that’s a ‘low blow’ 1.5 is a ‘high blow.’

My parents picked me up at around 3 AM, we drove past my car on the way to our house.

That was the first of many times that I’d get to pass the spot where my life changed forever. And for the past 10 months I have had to walk up onto the sidewalk that my car went up onto that fateful night.

That street is the quickest way to get to the bus and my gym.

Oh the irony.