SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP

As I sit here in my new skinny, high-waist jeans I hear the words "you cut out this food and then that and I'm going to sign up for a marathon." And my pants get tighter and my anxiety higher.

I just barely am ok with letting go this holiday. Maybe because I'm writing I'm actually not ok with it. Ya actually my ED (I'm really trying to separate the disease from me and my thoughts) is so fucking pissed at the idea that I did what I did and I can't do anything about it now. The damage is done. And I am sitting here uncomfortably with the consequences. I want to rip myself apart verbally and physically. How could I live under this illusion that I would be ok with eating seconds? Butter on everything? Having a drink every night? Idiot. Now look what you've done. You've stepped out of line and now you'll pay for defying me.

Recovery and the work I'm doing never stops--or well it shouldn't if I want to make progress. Yes I had more than two cookies a day and yes I didn't work out once and yes I sat with the thoughts and the uncomfortability for the last week of it all thinking I was somehow pushing forward in my recovery but I feel like the biggest fucking failure now. I want so badly to workout non-stop, to cut calories to show all of you people that talk of diets and exercise how it's really done. But if I let up now and give in I'll only let it win and have gone through all of that for no reason.

God I wish none of this fucking mattered. But it does. It feels like it really fucking does.

All of this anger and hate comes from me overhearing a conversation. My simple morning turned upside down.

I am frustrated that life is like this for me. That I am not further in recovery. And I am also just fucking bitter that I'm so uncomfortable all the time. Before I was with therapists to talk to, dietitians, girls and guys just like me that understood. Now I am seemingly alone. Stuck in my head and these fucking jeans and this environment that's full of people throwing out their regrets, calorie counts, diets and distorted view of the word healthy.

Sometimes I believe I am not the one with a problem but the rest of you are. The way you define healthy, the way 'cleansing' is seen as healthy even though it's essentially anorexia, how you post photoshopped pictures of models on your pintrest to push yourself further in your workout and publicly shame yourself for eating too much food. AND I'M THE ONE WITH A PROBLEM? I'm just trying to get my five grains a day and workout to relieve stress. But nothing around me supports this idea of moderation, enjoyment and pride in our bodies for the way they are.

I'm so fucking sick of having to work so hard to try to be normal in a world that doesn't know what normal is.

I usually like to end on a positive note. To end concisely. But I'm going to leave this open and uncomfortable. I'm going to sit with my anger and feel it.  Because as much as I fucking hate it it's ok to be uncomfortable.

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?

Gooday : Value Village Edition

Hey kids.
So I had a good day.
Such a good day that instead of stuffing my face with muffins and throwing them up (ie last night) I'm blogging.
I saw something at Value Village today that made things click for me:



Lately I've been wanting to stay put.
Moving is too scary.
Moving would mean doing something about how I've been feeling.
Adressing those feelings.
But that's too scary and hard and I'd rather just not.
How have I been feeling? - Long story short I've been feeling FAT (yes fat is not a feeling but well that's the best I can describe it), disgusting, shameful, hateful and just depressed.
I haven't cared if I get better or not. I just wanted to feel better right then so I did behaviors to numb whatever it was that was going on.
But this sign is so right - but I didn't buy it because its like glittery and pink and that's just not me so I'm going to steal this saying and try to Pintrest some shit and do it myself! HA!
Oh yeah ok but this saying was put in that Value Village by my God so I would see it and remember to act, to move, to do.

When I ask for help, when I help others, when I go workout, when I choose to fight against Ed I feel better. When I lay in bed and hide from all my problems I don't feel better.

So here I am DOING. I will show you the sick weird funny twisted slash totally typical parts of my day that made me smile or laugh:

First up is this man's GIANT HAIRY FUCKING MOLE. I have circled it for you.

I got myself JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE WORLD TOUR TICKETS! FUCKYABITCHES.

Then I saw this cat video courtesy of ChaCha

Then there was that wind bullshit that made me feel like I had moved back to Ellensburg. 

Captured a real gem right here.

Ah and now it starts to get good. At said Value Village after "life changing" moment of reading the bike sign I found THIS!

It's the most perfect fanny pack for Sasquatch! YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS. For only 5 dolla.

And shortly after I got this amazing thing that why would anyone give it away I don't know but I'm happy they did because now it's mine...

 This will also make it to The Gorge for AT LEAST Sasquatch if not Paradiso and maybe even Resolution 2014.

For once this is what my kitchen looks like...the dishes are CLEAN and you can see my sink. Yes.

Also, after having a fight with my old favorite pair of jeggings that use to HANG OFF OF ME and are now like Seran fucking Wrap on my legs, I won. I won because I cut them into bootay shorts that are so not appropriate but they fit my ass like a glove and damn it looks good. 

So the same pants that made me cry (multiple times) are now my favorite pair of festival shorts.

I didn't trust myself to eat dinner alone (since I binged and purged last night) so the BF and I had pho. So now I have lunch for tomorrow. Yes.

Lastly, I ran into my old roomate from college-no not my best pal that I love and respect and have the best time whenever I see her-the other one. The one I KICKED OUT OF MY HOUSE and told him he was WEIRD and TO STOP LARPING AND LIVE IN THE REAL WORLD.

That was an awkward QFC, deli section conversation.

No, I will not be visiting you at your jewelry store downtown.

And that's all.

Thanks for reading.

Numb : My Remix

Yes, I'm talking about Linkin Park's song...but I like this version better.

After writing my blog post the other day I had an enormous response from you all that support me. It started to make my recovery voice louder than my Ed voice. While I'm not great, I'm most certainly not where I was. I really was scared that I was going back into that hell.

I came across this remix of Numb and became obsessed, comforted and inspired all in a moment.

So here's my take on it. Maybe it'll help you understand why I'm crazy and why recovery is so hard.

"Numb"

I'm tired of being what you want me to be

Skinny, perfect
Feeling so faithless, lost under the surface

There's no hope here with you

Don't know what you're expecting of me

Expectations get higher and higher
Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes

Remembering my glory days of Ed, when I was thin and "everyone liked me" "everyone thought I was hot" "everything was great"
(Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow)
Every step that I take is another mistake to you

Every time I do something recovery focused there's Ed telling me that I'm doing it wrong. I can't eat breakfast, I can't buy bigger sizes, I can't think that I look pretty…there's always a rebuttal 
(Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow)

I've become so numb, I can't feel you there

I follow Ed's commands—"you" here is me, the real me
Become so tired, so much more aware

This represents me in recovery, I'm sick of being sick and I am aware of my disorder
I'm becoming this, all I want to do

'this' means Ed again
Is be more like me and be less like you
Pretty self explainatory. I want to be me, whoever that is and less like the girl I have been for 11 years

Can't you see that you're smothering me,

Every action every choice Ed is there. He doesn't let me breathe without his permission
Holding too tightly, afraid to lose control?

Every time I get closer to recovery he snaps me back, because he is afraid of losing control
'Cause everything that you thought I would be
Has fallen apart right in front of you.

My weight has gone up, I've started to be an independent thinker and challenging his ways and he's becoming meaner and more harsh because he can see me walking away from him
(Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow)
Every step that I take is another mistake to you.

Every step in recovery I make never comes easy, it's always with regret remorse and a takes a lot of reasoning.
(Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow)
And every second I waste is more than I can take.
This can go two ways, every second I waste not working out is a wasted moment

OR
Every second I spend in this disease is a waste of my life

And I know
I may end up failing too.
But I know
You were just like me with someone disappointed in you.
This last part means a lot to me because it reminds me that even when I was in my "glory days" it was never good enough and the same Ed that's talking now was talking to that glorified sick Kris telling her he's disappointed in me.

I'm tired of being what you want me to be