Read Me

I'm amazed as to how long I've been writing.

I was forced to start this for my COM 101 class in 2008.

I think I wrote about food--(smirks, no surprise there).

It--somehow and you know what I'm not sure what made me want to start writing so openly on here--turned into a place where I shared my exploration in recovery. It turned into my best friend. Ya best friend. This simple little blog has always been there for me to pour my heart out to. To help me understand myself. My thoughts so plainly in black and white for me to read. See I like to talk but I don't like to listen--it's interesting when you listen to yourself. What are you really saying?

What I'm getting at is tonight I want to write about my night. I want to write about the fact that I had the guts and confidence to approach my favorite band after seeing them live. That I only had two drinks. That I didn't binge or purge tonight. That I felt like myself with people I used to put a front on for.

But when I write all of this and I start crying and laughing like a psycho at the same time because I don't know what to do with all of this emotion, I realize what I'm really writing is: I feel at home. At home in Vancouver (shudders) yes but mostly I feel at home with myself.

I'm constantly looking for belonging. I'm looking for acceptance. I want love. I want to be wanted. I want to be appreciated. I want to feel like someone. And with a lot of practice, tears, anger, drinking, eating disordering (totally a thing), money, therapy, and years of work I feel at home with myself.

There is no rush, there is no desperate pining for more: more love, more attention, more acceptance, more fucking food. I am. I just fucking am.

Letting go is something I've written about in here hundreds of time, with anger. If I could fucking let go I would. How do you let go? Those words vigorously typed out here while I succumb to tears. But that's exactly what I am finally fucking doing. I am living in the moment, I am changing my perspective, I am just here to enjoy my life.

Depressed me would want to punch me right now.

Easier said than done, but easy never got me anywhere.

I write in here about some very dark things, and some powerful emotions--and happiness, security, authenticity are among those powerful emotions.

The more I work to accept who I am, remove those things that don't align with who I want to be, the easier my life is getting.

I titled this "Read Me" because I will every so often comb my posts, the ones you read the most (that Face of Bulimia one pretty much kills it) and I ache for the girl that poured her heart out to an unknown audience hoping for some kind of acceptance.

And girl, I'm here to tell you, and remind you, that you can give yourself that acceptance.

My Imaginary Foe

It's quiet in the sunny room.
Lunch is only halfway over.
I still have to eat this stupid, fucking sandwich.

I wanted to keep her hidden.

My head is in between my hands.
Eyes closed.
Jaw clenched.
Leg shaking.
I feel like there's a spotlight on me.
Get me out.
GET ME OUT.

"What is your eating disorder saying to you right now?"

I look up to address the cold, tense quiet of girls inside their heads fighting their own voices.
They are angry, they are tired, they are conflicted, they are disordered--just like me.

"Mine is saying, wipe the grease off your sandwich. They won't notice. No normal person would even eat that salami. There's too much butter on that. This is disgusting. So unhealthy. You're disgusting. You can't eat that. Wipe it off. You have to workout tonight. I don't care that you did yesterday..."

I get quiet. I feel ashamed. I do not know how to move on.

The dietitian's voice brings me back.
"What would you say to your eating disorder if it were here right now?"

My head is back down.
My jaw is still clenched.
My eyes squeezed closed.
I see her plain as day.
We're sitting at the table together.
We've got the same outfit on.
Nikes, leggings, hoodie, vest.

I picture her--me--saying those things out loud to me.

"You fat fuck. You're fatter than all these girls here. You disgust me. Ya look at your thighs. Everyone sees them. I know you've gained so much weight since starting. You're just adding to it. You fat fuck. You disgust me..."

Then I hear me say loud and clear.

"Leave me alone."

The tears come instantly.

My eyes open. The girl next to me isn't a girl in treatment it's me but a mean me. ED me.

I look at her.

I say it quieter, scared of the power the first statement had and what it would ignite.

"Leave me alone. You have been talking to me all my life. I want to be left alone. I don't want to listen anymore. Just go please just go. You've taken so much from me. Just leave me be. Just leave me be. Just leave me be...."

My words turn into silent sobs.

She leaves.

Finding The Silver Lining In The Shit Of It

So after crying my eyes out and talking about a pretty bad / shameful night in here, with friends, my sponsor and my higher power I realize that long story short, I just got too drunk.

I don't have to feel like shit about myself forever.
I don't have to ask for constant forgiveness.
I don't have to suck up to my friends.
I don't have to be ashamed and hang my head.

Not to say what I did wasn't bad or doesn't mean anything but I just made a mistake-a big one but still an honest to God mistake. I made an ass out of myself and most likely you've done it too.
 
People make mistakes, it's how you react to those mistakes that matter.

What caused me to drink and has time and time again is negativity.
My mind goes that direction naturally, that's just how Ed has taught me to think over the past 11 years and it's a hard habit to break.

If something is gone I don't think I misplaced it, I 'know' someone has stolen it.
If I hear someone say my name it's not because they are giving me a compliment, it's because they are making fun of me.

You get it.

So, after beating myself up and being physically sick all day because of what I had done I decided to put my big girl pants on and get the fuck over it.

In order to do that I had to take action.

I apologized to my friends. One accepted it the other hasn't said a word to me and well that's on her.

I reached out to friends to help me talk my feelings through and make sense of what happened and why. I also just needed a pick me up.

I laid in bed and watched the rest of Weeds. I made myself a bomb ass sandwich. Did some chores. Basically made me feel human again.

I called ChaCha and we went and got pho for dinner. He gave me a pep talk or two and a much needed hug.

I talked to my sponsor about how to not skimp on program and what me drinking meant while working the steps.

And I went to bed on time. Peacefully and sober.

I didn't over eat or throw up.
I didn't give in and just get drunk to help me fall asleep.

I just took the next right step. I'm trying to follow direction, do what I'm told by people who care about me instead of what Ed and booze want me to do.

When they come up in my head and have me start to tell me how much I suck, how fat I am, how to not eat that, how I'm lazy...I just tell them it's not true and to leave me alone.

This is the first time I've figured out that positivity and kindness to myself will help me more than hating myself and just sitting in my anxiety.

So maybe this had to happen in order for me to grow, learn who I want to be and that who I am now isn't who I'm always going to be.

I Fucked Up

I have tried writing this all afternoon.
But I don't know how to begin.
So bear with me.

I drank  this weekend. I drank the entire weekend. I was all set not to. I almost had my 90 days. And then the anxiety came over me and I knew I would be obsessed with wanting to drink until I got that drink.

Now while my friends supported my sobriety I'm a grown woman and they aren't going to tell me no.

I'm finding it hard to have a balance of saying excuses while taking responsibility for my actions.

I fucked up. And I got fucked up on the last day, so yesterday, of Sasquatch.

I had been pretty good about pacing myself and being aware, happy that I was not wasted, so I could enjoy the music and the atmosphere and not have a fat hangover. But then something in me got off balance and I found myself at around 5 PM walking to go get a disgusting Margarita beer thing in a can.

As I walked alone across the lawn I was hoping someone would see through me and stop me. I didn't want to do it but I couldn't not.

I got my drink and walked back to my friends who were waiting for me. We had to jet back to pack up the tent so we could come back in time to see the last bit of artists.

I walked up to them hiding my shame. I couldn't not drink even for one day. We were supposed to be hurrying and here I am with a mancan in my hand of 8% fruity shit. I tried to act like I was fine. Totally normal. I mean look around us, everyone's drunk or on something right? I'm just fitting in.

We got back to the tent which was soaked and the girls started cleaning up. I of course hadn't packed so I was holding everyone up. And as I tried to hurry I seemed to be going slower. The alcohol was already effecting me and I could feel the angry, bitter, alcoholic in myself coming out.

Every suggestion and action I tried to do was wrong. So I'd try again. And again. And nothing was right. I began to get bitter so I opened up another beer.

I knew what I was doing and I wanted to do it. I felt like the outsider and wanted to put a bigger gap between them and me. I was the girl with issues. The one who was out of place. The one that couldn't stop doing her makeup when she really should be racing to go see a show. The one who needed just one more shot. The one who wanted to do what she wanted to do when she wanted to do it. And they don't have my anxiety issues, my food / alcohol addiction issues and I wanted to punish them for it by proving them right. I am fucked up. I am a loser. I am a failure. Look how good I am at failing.

Meanwhile keep in mind this is all in my head none of this has been said aloud by them. As I drank more and tried to help more I felt more and more guilty. More hate. More anger. More disgust with myself. So I just drank more.

I tried to break the bad vibe in the air by apologizing but I wasn't sure what I had done. All I could feel was animosity and like the outsider. Once again, like always, I didn't fit in and I couldn't do it right.

I went to Alt J with one of the two girls and I could sense the distance from her. She was onto me and my alcoholic ways. So I just talked to strangers made new friends. Ah see? This is why we drink! So we can be 'normal' make people laugh 'be happy'. I don't need my friend to have fun I have booze.

So then we split up so I could see Steve Aoki and I wanted to make more friends. Feel this high. This high of belonging. Of having fun. This is what I'm supposed to do at these festivals right? Make new friends, have crazy fucked up stories, LIVE man LIVE! So I got another beer.

Talked to a Canadian dude who leaves for Europe in two days while finishing the brew. Now I'm living. Now I'm having fun. I knew I just needed a drink or two that's all. Why did I think anything was wrong?

I ran into the venue and danced and danced and danced. I asked to join strangers dance circles. Everyone was welcoming but with an edge of "this girl is fucked up."

Then I got the idea to meet my own friends again. Be the good drunk. The one that listens and goes where she's told when she's told to. Then they'd like me.

If you've never been to The Gorge or seen pictures then you should do that. But long story short it gets very packed at the mainstage. I attempted to find my friends in hundreds / thousands? of people when drunk in the dark. I had no luck. So I said fuck it! More booze! I'll go see Rusko.

Thank God they cut off everyone at 10ish and I got no more beer.

The rest gets blurry.

I have the memory of finding my friends. Them not seeming happy with me.

Insisting I pay for Taco Bell and eating an entire Crunch Wrap Supreme and taco. Then the rest of the bagels and peanut butter in the back of the car while drunk dialing everyone telling them that 'everyone hates me.' Repeatedly. Mind you this is at 11:30 PM and most people work tomorrow.

I then went on to tell ChaCha to breakup with me because I'm such a fuck up and I'm not worth it. All of these issues. All of these needs I have. I'm sick of them I'm sick of me, he should be too. He deserves better.

I woke up this morning with a Steve Aoki tank I don't remember buying and peanut butter in my hair and a sickening feeling of regret.

I've apologized to my friend and she accepted it but she's not forgotten what I did or how I acted. I have a heavy amount of shame and hate for myself right now. I can't go back and change what happened. I can't get the images of me fucking up and fucking up more out of my head. I can't shake this feeling of regret.

What I can do is do my best to move on. I've come clean with my sponsor and today is day one. I've listened to some AA speakers and done my best to eat on my meal plan. I don't know what it's going to take for me to start listening to everyone else but  my disorder but I feel like this is a big push.

If I want to move forward I can't keep looking back.
If I want to be happier I can't keep thinking negatively.

I fucked up. Really fucked up. And it needed to happen for me to appreciate the gift of recovery that I'm being offered. My tail will be between my legs for a while and I'll be awkward around my friends for a bit but I can't let this shame, hate and anger keep putting me in this cycle of behaviors.

I don't know if this makes any sense but like always I appreciate you for reading, reaching out to me, being honest to me and never giving up on me.

Purging My Feelings

I planned a binge last night.
I planned two actually.
And I did them and that was it.
Then I called out sick to work even though we're really busy.
I slept until 11:30.

Then I woke up and reality hit.
I am upset with myself.
I hate that I have no control over my actions and that I keep putting this stupid disease before everything else.
I cancel hangouts with friends, I don't go to work, I don't go to AA, I don't spend as much time with ChaCha because I want to stuff my face and throw up.
It's disgusting. It's shameful and I hate myself for it.

I keep feeding the disease though (pun intended).
I keep feeling like shit about myself and keep it in so I don't annoy others.
I realized this morning that I don't want to tell anyone I'm struggling (anyone in my 'real life' opposed to treatment life). I want to tell them I'm fine. That everything is ok. That I'm working hard and it's paying off when in reality I'm scared, I'm sad and I'm lonely.
I am afraid people will leave me and get as sick of me as I am of myself if they knew the real me, so I lie.

So when I lie I keep it all in. Which is why I had a breakdown yesterday in the North parking lot of Century Link Field. I was so upset all of a sudden I couldn't get on a bus to go to treatment. I couldn't let myself go there though so I went to the gym and numbed out for as long as my body would let me.

Then I got home ate an entire box of brownie mix and threw up right before ChaCha came over.
I didn't mention it to him because I feel like I always have such issues and I'm so annoyed with myself that he'll get sick of me too.

So I held in the hate and shame longer. I met with my sponsor and casually told her what was going on as I ordered a donut from the coffee shop. I was starting the binge again.

As we read the Big Book I would tune out thinking of what I would eat next and how good it would feel to release it all.

I left her and went straight to the store.
Bought my food.
Did my thing.
And woke up at 11:30 this morning and had to face everything I've been avoiding since 1:30 yesterday. It all hit me at once. And I had to get it out.

I found out that because of my absences that I'm going to get in trouble at work. Rightfully so. But this makes me hate myself more. And as I try to eat a normal lunch Ed is already telling me to screw it up. I'm just a fuck up. After yesterday I don't deserve to eat. I should be at the gym. I really can't do this. And I really should just keep hurting myself.

I told my mom I had a hard time and she  went on to tell me how I shouldn't be posting this online. And I'm most likely hurting my chances at getting a new job by skipping work and having this for the world to read and judge.

And well she's right. But I took it as you're a failure. She reiterated all of the things I already know. My fears. What a disappointment I am. How I'm so slave to this disease. So now I feel worse. Plain and simple.

I just want someone to listen. To tell me I'm going to be ok. Because right now it really doesn't feel like it.

So I'm writing I'm getting it all out. I am feeling the stomach turning hate and sadness that I've been avoiding. I'm letting the tears sting my eyes and my throat go dry. I'm feeling the uncomfortablility that is being me where I'm at right now.

But I'm trying. I'm still fighting by letting this out. By finally being honest. By eating on my meal plan as much as I really don't want to. I'm trying. And that's all I can keep doing because I know how much it sucks when I don't.

Thank you all for your support and for reading.
You have NO idea how much it means to me.

Love,

Kris

And then ChaCha calls. And he tells me he won't get sick of me but if I don't try to help myself then that's what will do it. I need to believe that my friends and my family want to help but they can't help me if I'm not honest. If I don't try. He always has tough love for me. I'm lucky to have him.

My Conversations With Ed

So I'm reading Life Without Ed.

And the author Jenni Schaefer writes out her conversations with Ed.

This morning Ed wouldn't shut up so I thought I'd give him some attention and try out Jenni's tactic.

Last night I went to one of my best friend's birthday celebrations and overall had a wonderful time. It was just hard to fight Ed off.

Me: everyone keeps saying I look good. Like more than they ever have.

Ed / me?: I brush off the compliments because they probably read your blog and feel sorry for you.

Me: why would someone lie? But I don't get why now I'm ok to them when I feel the least ok I've ever felt with my appearance. It confuses my will and drive to keep working out and eat less. How do I stay this way in which everyone seems to approve? (I see it's an issue I want to please everyone else but then again I can't trust myself. I don't know what I really look like or when I'm ok and all I want to be is ok).

Ed (In his kind voice): don't eat that, you feel really full.  

Me: I'm going to try it anyway. I know if I don't eat I'll end up BP later.

Ed (as I'm eating a taco): see it's gross and you can't even taste it because you are so nervous. These are your closest friends why can't you just relax? Why can't you be normal for once?

Me: I am paying more attention to you than them. (then I focused on my friends' conversation making some funny comment. It felt good and natural but didn't last long before I was confronted with Ed again).

Ed: you're the fattest one here. I can't believe you wore those tight jeggings and a tight shirt. Who do you think you are? Go to the bathroom and check yourself out and see how bad you really look.

I go to the bathroom and it's a full length mirror. Ugh.

Me: I don't want to look. I can't look. Either way I'll be upset. My friends like me for me…not for you.

I leave the bathroom just fixing my hair only.

And that is how my night went.

Now this morning er afternoon:

Ed or me?: you feel really full and sick.

Me: that's because you ate three yogurts, 1/2 cup oatmeal and a banana. And it didn't even make you feel better. It tasted weird. But you kept eating it because it was in front of you, it worked in the past and maybe the next bite would be different.

Ed: just eat an apple for lunch.

Me: ok. I feel too sick to eat anything else even though I made lunch.

Ed: good. Don't eat those calories later. Plus you fat ass ate them all last night. You couldn't even throw up all of the stuff you ate.

Me: I know.

Ed: usually you'd be off of work right now and walked to the bus, from the bus, on two 15 minute breaks, to the bus home from the bus and a workout. But all you've done is sleep today and now you want to go shorts shopping? I'll show you.

Me: I know. But you exhausted me. I'm sick because of throwing up and my throat hurts. I kept pushing myself to workout—

Ed: ya and you couldn't even do it 5xs a week like we agreed.

Me: and I'm exhausted from it. I can't do that lifestyle of cutting calories and working out all the time anymore.

Ed: I know and it shows.

Ed: you remember the prettiest girl at the party from last night?

Me: yes.

Ed: did you notice how she didn't really talk to you or acknowledge you even when you had the courage to talk to her?

Me: yes.

Ed: why do you think that is?

Me: because she knows she's prettier and better than I am.

Ed: exactly.

Ed: remember how you left the party early last night so you could get in bed in time for work?

Me: yes.

Ed: remember how I made you binge and purge instead?

Me: yes.

Ed: you're such a failure. How embarrassing for you.

Me: I know. I always have these good intentions that each night after going out will be different but then I find myself doing the same thing. But I won't always do this.

Ed: yes you will. I haven't seen you do anything else. You're not going to get better.

And I'm here writing not sure what mood to be in. Not sure where I stand. Not sure if I'm a good or bad person when you tally everything up last night. My life is a lot of checks and balances. You worked out; good you deserve to feel better. You had a cookie REALLY bad regret it the rest of the day. Etc. It's all about Ed feeling in control to make me feel in control of my life and that I'll be ok. So if I do work out and work towards getting thinner he's happy and I'm therefore "ok" if I do something that I want to do like eat a cookie that's not working toward the goal and therefore "not ok."

I'm going shorts shopping and fighting off his anger with me for not working out or really moving from anywhere but my bed to the bathroom. Today I just don't want to care. I'm sick of caring.

Stoned

I feel like I'm high.
Like not weed high-the only drug high I've felt and when that happens I think my feet don't work-stupid-but like light, airy, easy breezy, sand in my toes and the sun on  my skin high.
Like that feeling that comes when every light is green on the way home from work, an old friend calls you out of the blue and it's sunny on a Friday.
That kind of high.

But in reality, it's Thursday, raining and not much has changed from last week's melt down to now. Except EVERYTHING.

I had become obsessed with losing weight again.
Was constantly condemning my body, working out and restricting.
Working on my little plan by my big self.
This only put me deeper into my disorder.

What got me here is you people who coaxed my authentic voice out.
Who told me that I am beautiful. That I am not fat. That I am just how I'm supposed to be. That I can do this. That Ed is a bitch.

I can't thank you enough for reaching out when I really didn't want help.
Or actually WE didn't.
WE wanted to be in that space. We wanted to be miserable that way all I could see was us two.

But you people wouldn't let us.

While I still honestly want to smash a mirror / cry when I see my thighs and ass there's something that tells me that having great legs isn't what it's all about. That if I stay at this weight that my life isn't over. It's just beginning...hahahaha had to.

If I keep working to accept that this is where I'm supposed to be I can stop worrying. I can stop obsessing. I can start to live.

How I've gotten here is also by taking action against these feelings. Before I was just letting them happen. And well I guess I needed that to happen to get here.

Now I'm actually talking to Ed, out loud (like a crazy) and telling him he's wrong or to leave me alone.

Now I understand what I use Ed for and how to start to not need him anymore.

My therapist explained it to me like this: there's a lot of distance between me and my feelings / emotions. I created that space with distractions like binging and purging, overeating, obsessing over not eating, obsessing over eating, working out, drinking, thinking about drinking, being hungover as fuck. Now, that I'm not doing those things as much there's still that space. I 've begun to fill it with being busy (not hard when you work full time, do treatment, AA and have a second job oh and friends) so as soon as I stop and have a second where I'm not distracted it all hits me at once.

This would make sense why my breakdowns were in the AM and on my one day off.

So now the goal is to keep telling Ed to shove it.
As well as saying my feelings aloud when I feel them.

I got to practice it as soon as I left treatment yesterday: "Dear Asian lady, I felt very pissed off and upset and annoyed when you almost hit me with your car while I was riding my bike on the crosswalk and I had the right of way."

So now the hope is that this won't come back to haunt me when I have a moment to myself.

I also can't thank you enough for calling me pretty, saying you like what I look like that I even look better. I am trying to accept that you wouldn't say this unless you meant it.  Keep the compliments comin' ONLY if you mean them. Otherwise you make Ed right-that you just feel sorry for me.

I haven't advertised this as much out of shame for trying to get sober once before and breaking it-but I'm back in AA. I have a sponsor and we are starting the steps this Sunday. I have 31 days today, which I didn't even realize because it made me sad as to how little there were at first.

Also, I've been praying. More on that later.

Lastly, on Saturday I'm going clothes shopping (shorts and bras specifically) with a friend from program. This is my first time admitting that I need bigger sizes and I'm doing something about it.

Thank you everyone for your support and for reading!

I Had A Bad Day

I binged and purged at every meal today.

I should have known when I went for a truffle before breakfast that I was in a disordered mindset.

I had a rough night on Valentine's Day—or let's say Ed did.

I had stayed home from work that day because I didn't feel well, my throat was super sore, I couldn't breathe through my nose and had an awful headache. Ed and I fought all day to not binge and to not go to the gym. I was successful. I ate on my meal plan and took care of myself. Then ChaCha came over to celebrate San Valentin.

I had done nothing that day but be in sweats and work. This was my highlight of the day and I was going to act like I wasn't sick and that Ed didn't exist—only thing is he fucking does.

I shaved my legs, washed my hair, did my makeup nicely and even put on matching underwear. This was Chacha's first Valentine's Day in the US with a girlfriend so I wanted it to be special and cheesy. 

Now to keep being honest with you all I have to embarrass myself a lot a bit right now. I am not sexy, I do not know how to get the mood going or how to make sex happen like it does in the movies...

My hope was that he wouldn't be able to resist me and we'd be at it as soon as he walked in the door—no such thing happened. Ed took offense and started talking louder than ChaCha.

It's hard to pay attention when you have two conversations going at once—one in your head and one with the person in front of you. All I could hear was how ugly I was, how unsexy and unworthy I was even to the guy I'm dating. I felt like such a loser. 

I went upstairs and weighed myself 150 lbs. WHAT THE FUCK. I had been working out every day. I had been restricting here and there in hopes it'll help and I gained 5 pounds?! I was at my high school weight. My shameful embarrassing weight. No wonder he didn't want anything to do with me.

I tried keeping a smile on but it just got harder as we went to the market (as Chacha calls it—I call it Fred Meyer). He picked out yummy foods to make that Ed had no intention of eating. I went along with it and got champagne to calm my nerves. He said it wasn't a good idea. I said I want it. So I got it.

We get home and I weigh myself again. Same damn number. I see ChaCha add oil to the pan, cream cheese to the salmon and crackers…my anxiety is through the roof. I sip the champagne pissed at myself that I broke my sobriety. Pissed that I do not weigh less. Pissed that I'm not a sexy girlfriend. Pissed that I'm a failure.

With a big breath I told Chacha what was going on. He of course doesn't see any of it. He says I am sexy, I don't have to try. He says this is healthy food and it's ok to eat a bit of it. He makes sense but Ed doesn’t believe him. Ed is strong right now.

I calm down a bit and don't even get drunk and don’t over or under eat which is good. We go upstairs and go to bed.

I wake up this morning feeling even worse. Still trying to not cough up a lung in front of ChaCha I see him off at 6 am. Write into work that I can't work today. My head was killing me. So what do I do?

I sleep. Overeat. Throw up. Sleep. Overeat. Throw up. Sleep. Cancel going to treatment. Overeat. Throw up. Journal.

I am so ashamed. I have not done anything like this since before I was in treatment. I think it's because I'm in my parents' house. I think it's because my mind is so fucking twisted. It's all or nothing. I can't have any junk food or I must have it all. If I don't work out I should just eat because it's a wasted day. I'm so upset with myself because I literally did NOTHING but eat and throw up today. I am sitting here in my puke splattered clothes writing this to you at 7:38 PM. I'm exhausted. I'm sad. I feel like I'm in such debt now. How do I make up for all the calories I ate today? It will require more restricting more working out…but that's what got me here in the first place. But food, is not something I want to see ever again. I hurt more than I already did. I've wasted a gorgeous day. I should have just forced myself into work.

But I can't get down on myself, that negative place gets me nowhere. But I can't find a positive in today except for the fact that I got to wake up to Chacha, it was sunny, and I'm asking for help now. Better late than never.

God I even have to remake all the cookies I was going to bring in for Valentine's Day to work since I ate ¾ of them.

This is probably the most important part of this post: I realized that I rely too heavily on this blog because I feel alone. I do not have  the guts to call up a friend without this disorder and say I want to eat. I hate myself. I am fat. I'm sick of saying it so they must be sick of hearing it. Ed tells me that people don’t care. People at work don’t like me at all. People in treatment don't want to hear what I have to say. My boyfriend is going to get bored of me. If I do bring this up to my friends I just get ashamed and brush over it-I'm fine I'm fine forget I said anything. I mean what am I supposed to say? What are they supposed to say? This is the only place I have to let it all out—I mean that and my therapist—but she has to listen to me. So I thank you for reading, I thank you for reminding me I'm a little less alone.

And this is so embarrassing but if you really wouldn't mind me calling / texting / messaging you when I'm struggling please write me because I need to start reaching out when I need help instead of being so embarrassed to do so before it's too late.

I'm going to drink water. Tomorrow is a new day.

Friday VS Saturday Night

Saturday night:

Wet toenails that I just painted with charmed, which is like my favorite pumpkin orange—rich, vibrant and yet wintery.

I have ponytail hair, which means I went to the gym came home didn't shower, didn't like my hair in a ponytail but it looks like shit down.

I'm considering falling asleep in my chair while Avicii is playing me Superlove.

The music is incredibly contradictory to my mood.

It's 8:59 PM and I could have fallen asleep an hour ago.

Friday night:

I had just worked a full day, leaving the house at 7 AM. Then rushing to treatment at 3 PM. Meeting my mom outside treatment for Family group at 4 PM. Be there for two hours until 6 PM, where we talk about things—the abuse came up again. Go to 6:05 PM and my mom is crying, in pain, asking me about the abuse. The images of those nights flash in my head, I hug myself as though trying to protect me from my thoughts, I don't want to talk about it.

So of course—I talk about it.

She says she's sorry. She says she never knew. She says a lot of things I've needed to hear—but not now. I just can't handle this now.

My nonstop day continues with dinner with her—on the outside you'd see a mother and a daughter having Subway together—you'd have no idea that she just asked me how many times, where, when, how…

Race off to my bus to make it home in time to meet my brother—he beats me.

My anxiety is through the roof. I need to drink. I can't eat in front of my brother so the other option of relief is the drink. I regrettably divulge a 13-year-secret to him.

We talk, drink two. Then I get my sexy on. I'm feeling good.

We taxi it to The Crocodile to see GRiZ with my friends and ChaCha.

I'm buzzed. I like it. I'm in control but my anxiety from earlier is gone.

I feel relief. I'm having fun. I’m surrounded by people and music I love.

I see friends from high school—I'm no longer that insecure girl. I no longer think they hate me. I'm just me. It's nice.

The music starts. I dance. I want more. So I have it. Still pacing myself. Still in control.

I see others who aren't. Others who are messes before 11 PM. Others who are getting kicked out. I thank God I'm not them.

We dance. We laugh. We live.

So cheesy but that's exactly what we did. I've been on a high from it ever since.

A high from the music, from the positive vibes—not from the disorder or from the drink, it's from something organic.

It's weird to contrast my two nights. I was up til 2:30 last night eating  normal portion of Pirates Booty and watching Wedding Crashers with my brother.

Tonight I went to an AA meeting and will be sound asleep at 2:30.

But I still have the same high. I feel like the world is much more simple. I feel hope. I feel like things are easy right now. I know what to do and I want to do it.

After last night realizing that I drank because of my anxiety scares me. Alcoholism is real thing. I can't take one disorder and trade it for another. So it's time to get sober, I know—it's just I'm not sure how.

Party ... Animal ?

So I stayed sober on Saturday when I went out dancing.

And the only way I was able to do it was by:

·         My therapist telling me she might have to recommend me for an outpatient treatment program for alcohol. Seriously? I said. Seriously. She said.

·         My therapist telling me I have to go to at least one AA meeting and get a paper signed proving I was there

·         My therapist telling me straight up that alcohol isn't good for me and is only making my life harder

·         My therapist telling me that I've "plateaued" in recovery

·         Going to an AA meeting (plus leaving my phone at home so I would focus and taking notes)

·         My friends asking me what I learned from the meeting

·         My friends telling me how proud they are of me

·         My friends asking if it was triggering for me to see them drink

·         My friends asking how I'm doing throughout the night

·         The fact that I tried on my favorite pair of shorts from the summer and they fit me like fucking Seran Wrap

·         The fact that I can't dance as ridiculously as I do with a drink in my hand

·         The fact that I clearly remember the binge purge session I had the last time I went out

·          The fact that I figured out that I'm the only one that can do this for myself

Last night I learned that I'm not as easygoing as I was in college around drunks. I think this is mostly due to the fact that those "drunks" were my friends or people I had to see the next day in class. Now, getting butt bumped by bitches in too short dresses trying to dance, stomped on my girls who don't know how to wear heels and grabbed at by guys on the wall…just doesn't float my boat. I found myself checking my phone at 11:30 PM. Party…animal?

I'm so much more aware when I'm not drunk.

Duh you think.

But it's making more sense why I feel pushed to escape when I go out and dance. First of all it takes Ed out of my head (until I get too drunk and emotional…ugh). When I'm not as aware he can't talk to me and tell me the girl behind me is super skinny, he doesn't make me ask how does that girl's thighs not touch? How come she can be thin and have big boobs? Why am I stuck in this frumpy body that isn't getting attention from any guys? What have I done wrong? I haven't worked out hard enough, looked hot enough, danced well enough…

That's what was going through my head last night. It wasn't very fun. But there were moments of good. Of escapism that was organic, just me and the music and my friends. And those are the moments I have to live for now because the other way just doesn't work for me.

So I walked in a little late (what's new) to the AA meeting and noticed I was one of two girls. And by girl I mean the other woman there had her foot propped up (old woman in AA tall tale sign) sweats under her skirt and Sorel snow boots on.

I sat in a chair that went sideways under my weight and creaked—moved over one. Opened up my heart covered journal to take notes—only to see the last time I wrote in it was when I was in church on December 18, 2011 I called the post "God is love."

As the guys began to talk, I began writing—with my neon pink pen.

"What is the worst that could happen if I follow direction rather than do what I want to do?"

"What else can you do while you're sober that you can't while you're drinking?"

"In order for this to work you have to keep going to meetings."

"God works for good even if 'good' doesn’t look the way you think it should."

"You've already had your fun, you've already drank til you black out, til you get sick, til you do things you regret…"

"It's a good feeling to wake up clean and sober and see what life has in store for me that day."

"Don't throw everything you've worked for away because things don't go your way."

"I'm just constantly trying to feel another feeling, another high…"

And my favorite:

"I've been using alcohol as a crutch…but I'm not disabled."

I feel that these things can be related to life in many different ways, situations and struggles. Whatever it is that's pulling you down, that you can't seem to kick, to get over, to stop … just try this once to change it to make it different. I did it last night and I woke up this morning very happy that I did.

                                                                                                                                                                                           

Isolating.

So I wrote this two days ago, but I got kicked out of my blog and fucking google doesn't have a place where you just contact them to say "I am not computer savvy, help me."

I finally figured out how to sign back into this sucker after two days of bitching and resisting to throw my computer. (google kept telling me I didn't have an account-bitch-I have an account).

ANYWAY: Pretend it's two days ago on the bus:

Just left treatment.

I wish the woman next to me wasn't chewing gum.

Oh shit she can probably read this.

FOCUS KRIS.FOCUS.

So I haven't written because I didn't want to think. I'm sick of thinking. Of summarizing how I'm doing. Are you sick of it too?

Here's to hoping you're not…

I'm not surprised I've gone back inside my shell.

Back when I would tell my mom I was struggling she would yell at me. She didn't understand the disease or how I saw what I saw or why I did what I did—I learned to not mention what was happening—it was safer for all of us.

In high school if I would complain about things my friends would talk behind my back.  (granted I was very sick then and probably talked about it in a different way and amount)

But my therapist brought up today that now isn't then. That what if my friends really do care? I'm not giving them the chance to by automatically shutting them out. What would happen if I did reach out to my support team?

And to answer that basically I'm just scared of being annoying. Being that person in your group you try to get rid of. That everyone talks about, "Oh Kris is doing her thing again…" "God does she ever think of anyone but herself?" So I'm going to go out on a limb and reach out when I'm struggling, not just with food stuff but life stuff. Work has been shit this week and my anxiety is through the roof. My therapist thinks that's because I have been keeping it inside.

Hmm what else? I have been drinking. I said I didn't want to but I am. Guys it's hard not to. I haven't drank in excess or anything so that's good—but now my therapist is having me get papers signed at AA meetings. Damn.

I'm actually relieved. I've been wanting to go to them but my anxiety freezes me and keeps me at home—not sure why—but now that I have to go, I well have to go. I can't do this alone. I think there's shame in that. It's just one more thing I need help with.

I've been very negative lately. My perspective is pessimistic. It's no fun. And it's not helping. So here I am again writing out the positive things from today:

1.       When I went to go throw away my banana peel a squirrel jumped out of the garbage can scaring the hell out of me—I then laughed alone for what felt like forever

2.       I'm going to shower tonight

3.       I'm going to see my best friends tonight to talk about my first ever bachelorette party (…not for me obviously)

4.       ChaCha said "Justin Fever" today instead of Bieber

5.       My socks aren't soggy

6.       I made a list of things I can do instead of bingeing and it totals 89 things

7.       I fought Ed and didn't workout today

8.       ChaCha just told me he's taking me to dinner on Valentines' Day (aw)

9.       I discovered Kid President

10.   I discovered Griz's new album Mad Liberation

I'm not allowed to wear jeans for a month (therapist's goal for me since my anxiety goes through the roof when I wear them)

That's it kids. <3 o:p="">

I Didn't Mean To Throw Up

Most people hate puking.
When they hear I'm a bulimic, most people's reaction is "I don't know how you do that to yourself, I hate throwing up."
There are two different kinds of throwing up, selfinduced and uh not.
The past two days I've been throwing up because I'm sick AND I FUCKING HATE IT.
It doesn't feel the same when I do it. When I'm sick like this I have aches and chills and shakes. I throw up stomach acid and that taste stays in my mouth forever.
So just to clear that up, that well at least for me, I don't feel like that when I throw up. It's not pleasant by any means, but it's not that unpleasant.
Also since I'm sick I have NO appetite. This is weird coming from someone who is hungry 1 hour after a full breakfast.
But I'm so proud of myself for not turning to food to fix everything, which is what I usually do. Each everything until I feel better...no it doesn't make sense but neither does this disease.
So I've been stuck at home two days and since I have a studio I pretty much live in my kitchen and I haven't binged or purged (on purpose) at all.
GO ME!
Also, I just made blueberry muffins for ChaCha because even though I'm pukey (yes that's a word) and sick and disgusting he still wants to come over and hang out. I'm thinking of introducing him to Anchor Man or Bridesmaids.
The texture of pudding and cheesecake and batter etc are the easiest to binge off of for me, so this was a challenge. I started licking the spoon, had one spoonful then another and then said WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?
And now I'm here,writing instead.

I also wanted to say that I've continued to learn things from my birthday fiasco weekend.

I DO have people that care about me.

This morning I actually went into work hoping I was ok and ended up getting sick at 8.
My coworker (there were only like two there at that hour) drove me home thank God and I told her I owed her big time and she said something that stuck with me "Kris, it's no big deal, that's what friends do."

And while all of my friends weren't able to make it to that one event, that one day, that doesn't mean I don't have any.

I have a tendency to zoom in on one moment, magnatize it and worry the shit out of it. It's an annoying habit.

But I've had other friends text and ask if they can do anything. Ask me how I'm doing. I've had friend who've read my last blog post and written me telling me how they saw me, instead of my one-sided Ed view.

A friend told me he had a crush on me but didn't bother because I had guys lined up. I didn't see my freshman year of college like that. That's when bulimia started and that's when I was so into the disease that life was just a formality. It was nice to step back and see the big picture and remember all elements of my past, not just the bad.

Ok I'm going to go put on deoterant and lotion and act like I showered for Chacha...haha I'm so gross.

Good night!

I Learned Some Shit Today

I've had some big realizations today.

If you didn't read last night's post you probably should—but then again why wouldn't you have? I'm so damn interesting how could you not?

But seriously.

On Friday we had a speaker come to the center, she was a bulimic, abused alcohol and was molested and raped when she was younger. I have many things in common with her.

At the end of the session we were allowed to ask questions, and I wanted to know whether or not she got over the abuse and rape.

Did she still hate men? Did she cringe at hugs? Did she have a relationship still with those who took advantage of her? Does it get better?

Her answer made my heart sink and my eyes fill with tears. No—no she doesn't have a real relationship with her abusers and no—it hasn't gotten better.

Today I brought this up at group therapy. And I heard somethings and learned somethings that I think I have been trying to figure out for years.

I have been trying to have a relationship with the abuser ever since it happened because I felt it was my fault—I wanted to make everything ok again—I wanted to act like it had never happened—so that's what I've tried to do.

Only it did happen—it wasn't ok—and it will never fully be ok again.

The person that I want him to be, he never will, because he never was.

All this time I've been trying to be good enough for him and his attention, friendship etc and I've never met those expectations because it's never going to happen.

This lead me to open up about my birthday 'party' snowball fight.

It is incredibly scary for me to take a chance and have confidence. I went out on a limb that people would want to show up for me, want to hang out with me, want to do this for and with me. It took a lot of courage to say, I'm going to think about making me happy today, not everyone else. And what happened? No one showed up.

At first I took this to mean, again, I'm not good enough, there's something wrong with me. How come I care so damn much about other people and they can't return the same common courtesy? Well that's because I'm not other people, I am unique, I am gracious, caring and selfless—not everyone is that way.

It took a very good friend of mine to help me realize that tonight and I'm so blessed that she did.

You see no one showing up reminded me of high school, junior high—where I was so confused and lost and didn't know how to be seen, to be liked, to be "ok." All I knew for sure was that I was attractive and if I got skinny I got some kind of approval that I wasn't getting at school or at home. And thus the eating disorder took hold.

And now I'm in a place where I don't have my looks, I'm not skinny, I can't have my disorder so who am I?

I used to base all my decisions on being thin. What I ate, how I spent my time, where I went, what I wore, etc all towards my 'value' of being skinny and attractive.

Now, I'm not supposed to do that—shit I CAN'T do that anymore—and I don't know how to find my value and my worth.  It's hard and it's confusing.

Living for God sounds nice, I'm not sure what that means, but I need to eat and to be healthy in both mind and body in order to serve him. So I'm going to try to do just that.

And you know something else? Every single girl that I invited from treatment had the time and the heart to call / text me that they couldn't come as well as ask me how it was the next day. Same with my best friends. So that just shows me who my real friends are, and honestly I have quite a few of them.

I feel so much better.

Sigh.

Goodnight and God bless.

Just Really Fucking Annoyed.

I've got to get somethings out of my mind or else I'm going to go out of my mind.

First is the shame and hate I have towards myself.

After my big woo I'm not drinking resolution-I drank on Friday.

I had gone 11 days without the stuff and thought one couldn't hurt but nope.

Before going dancing with my friends I said I'm ok, I only want two drinks.
I had four, my friends noticed, I brushed their questions off.

I drank more because my friend was getting more attention than me.

It's just not fair and so confusing, why am I not good enough?

She's already booed up. She's naturally pretty. Everyone likes her. I admire her. She's younger than me. A great dancer. Eats what she wants and is skinny. My heart dropped when the bartender brought me close and asked "so your friend, she taken?" thinking he was going to compliment me. Usually dancing is my thing, but nope, this girl one-uped me. I was just watching her in awe as she had only one drink, wondering how she does it. How she is so confident with herself. Wondering what she does that makes her so desirable and what I'm doing wrong.

I binged and purged when I got home that night. Telling my friends that I was ok.

The next morning, Saturday, I woke up ashamed and depressed and angry.

I binged and purged all morning until 2 when I was supposed to leave for my 25th birthday party.

To celebrate being a quarter of a century I wanted to go to the gigantic snowball fight at Seattle Center. What a unique thing to do!

I invited 40 people on facebook-20 said they were going-4 people showed up. 

Do you have any idea how stupid I still feel? How embarrassed?

Of the 20 about 8 were nice enough to say I'm sorry I can't come. Totally fine with me, I understand! But when it's getting late into the day and no one has shown up or called and my boyfriend and his friend ask me "where are your friends?" And I don't have an answer for them, it really fucking sucks.

The fight was ok and I tried letting go and being in the moment rather than thinking about how lame I felt. But I couldn't especially because of one person in particular that let me down. I'm always ALWAYS there for them and they did nothing to say they were or were not coming and all they had time to do was text me happy birthday on the actual day. I'm too chicken to confront them so I'm writing it on here.

Anyway, so fight happened, pretty cool to be apart of breaking a world record. And getting to hang out with Chacha since he's been gone so long.

Then we went to meet up with his friends at a bar. And I wanted a beer. I felt like shit about myself and just thought well fuck it.

I'm getting closer with my man and am less petrified to tell him about my disease so I told him what I had done that day and he said he'd help me not drink a lot today, which he did, bless him.

We went home napped-and this is a good thing-I ate pizza for my first time since recovery (so August). YAY! Then just sat and talked, or well Ed talked to me and I did all the listening.

He was telling me that Chacha's friends think I'm stupid. I was really out of it from binging and purging and then drinking so, well honestly wasn't being the sharpest tool in the shed that day. And I was already down on myself so when they were making fun of "Blondie" I took it to heart.

I HATE WHEN I DO THIS. I hate when I get so inside my head and so scared of people and what they think. It's very hard to get out. It makes it so I am too scared to talk. I shut down. My tongue swells and I literally can't say anything because I'm so ashamed of being nervous and not knowing what to say.

So what did I do? Drink more.

We ended up going to Cha Cha and that was fun then dancing at Neighbors which made my night.

I ran into old high school friends and one of them goes "congratulations" and I was like gurl what? And then she said she reads my blog. I was so flattered to hear that and to have her rooting for me.

I went home with Chacha so I didn't eat or throw up.

Today I woke up feeling like shit.

I can't do this anymore. I'm so sick of saying that I want to stop and I don't. I wish I could slap myself awake. I wish I could just fucking get it. I wish I could drink normally, eat a damn cookie, not cry when I wear jeans, not be jealous of my friends, not always be thinking about being skinny.

BUT I know that that thinking doesn't help, just makes me more depressed.

All I can do is the best I can and well, I honestly am trying. I'm still bitter sometimes that I have this and that I have to spend thousands on treatment. That I have to spend 4 days a week traveling to treatment and home again while my friends get to go to happy hours, soccer games, have a life.

BUT that doesn't get me anywhere except for mad.

I just want to get it right. I want to do this. I want to do it now. I'm so fucking determined sometimes but then I forget everything I know and do things to hurt my recovery. This is really fucking hard.

I'm just getting "back on the horse" - er I don't like that saying because it sounds like I was so defeated. Messing up is apart of my recovery too, each time I do I think I get a little stronger or am at least reminded as to why I want to be healthy and why I am spending thousands of dollars and hundreds of hours to be better.

So I'll go with the positive things:

Ahem.

1. I finally got to give my friend her Christmas present.

2.   I got mine from her! It's on my night stand :)

3.   I didn't binge or purge today

4.   Instead of bingeing and purging I painted my nails, researched primary care doctors, cleaned and wrote in my blog :)

5.   I got this for my 25th birthday!

6.   I'm learning who my real friends are. 

7.   I'm bringing in my Nerf gun to work tomorrow-where it will permanently live.

8.   I'm going to bed in about a half an hour.

9.  I was on The (206)  last night in a skit with Chris Cashman.

9.5  The Seahawks game was a good one. (it gets a half because it's not all positive)

10.  Now That I've had another weekend bender I hope / think / pray that I really will stop drinking for the time being, all of this mess, depression, anxiety and hate started from that "harmless" beer. I need to give myself  a chance at beating this and when I'm drinking I'm not doing that.

Ok that's all.

Goodnight. 

25 So Good So Far

GOSHDARNIT. I just scooted up my chair to write and forgot I put my favorite frame on top of my chair...it just shattered onto the floor. Damnit.

Well maybe this is a good time to go over the positive things in my life ATM:

1. My awesome possum coworker sent me a list of all the shows he wants to go to. I really like this guy who we'll call...Eyes...because he is like my show buddy. He loves going to them. Isn't fussy. Doesn't get wasted. And likes to dance.
2. So to bring me to point number two, thanks to Eyes's list, my little brother and I are going to see Griz. 
3. Also because of Eyes I found out about this new (to me new) DJ Listen To Him Here

I didn't realize how many people read my blog / facebook until "random" (as in not within the 5 people I told personally that I'm not drinking) people talk about me not drinking. Bringing me to my 4th good thing...

     4.  My friend showed me this which are different drinks that are not alcoholic. It's just so cool to see how many people support me and care. :)

     5.  Chacha and I are having ____(insert whatever I feel like eating in an hour) food tonight at my place while we watch a movie and he shows me how to use my present (it's a tablet for those of you who have as dirty as mind as I do).

     6.  I found a dollar going into work today

    7.   I slept in for an hour (but worked two hours extra)

So, part of my New Years Resolution and being 25 and because I fucking want to ... er resolution ... is to do something I'm scared to do everyday today that was numero 8 on the positive list.

   8.   I did yoga and zened the fuck out. There is a woman that teaches it in our "gym." I've only done yoga in treatment by the amazing Jamie at Ginning Yogi (can you tell that I just figured out how to link shit?!)  and once at Gold's which isn't very good. I learned new positions and got my coworkers interested in it too!

   9.   I am not hung over from my birthday

  10.  I ate cheesecake yesterday

  11.  I had an entirely veg breakfast and snack and lunch (not in that order) which was a goal of mine.

   12.  I had a really nice conversation with a girl I really admire in program today. I was feeling off since I didn't workout and got a ride home from work (aka no walking exercise aka I'm fat), but she helped calm me down and talk it out. 

I'm just so blessed to have you all support me and to have so man resources for love and hope. Sigh. I'm going to go shower and get ready to watch either Bridesmaids or Anchorman with Chacha.

<3 div="div">

Older and uh Wiser?

There's a mom and daughter in front of me talking about family issues.

Then annoying, stereotypical Mercer Island housewives behind me blabbing, "Oh it's an awesome show. Oh totally I know! I saw it in NY just amazing…"

As I try to ignore them I look outside. It's pretty much pitch black out minus a bit of blue sky that's getting swallowed up by the clouds and the cityscape. It looks magical, all the buildings lights glimmer brighter as the cloud cover overtakes the sky and night comes.

Today is my 25^th birthday. I can feel it. I feel special, I feel different and I feel confident—mostly I feel like myself.

My therapist said today that I'm just being Kris right now. I learned in our session that there are many Kris's—that's not a bad thing. There's frazzled me, there's sad me, there's fucking pissed off me and there's confused me, to name a few—the catch is they are all still ME.

But today it was easier to be me. I was comfortable in my skin, I didn't second guess what I said or what I did, what I wanted to eat and even though I was very worried about what to do tonight I'm set on my plans.

I'm the type that wants to make everyone else happy on my birthday. I don't want anyone the next day talking to their coworkers about their night and being like, "I had to go to this stupid movie which gave me a headache but I did it because the birthday girl wanted to…" that means I won't have fun, actually I make myself not have fun from worrying. Which is no fun.

So tonight I'm going to get gelato (which I love but am scared of) and to see Cirque du Soleil: Worlds Away 3D (have to google that everytime).

It's a great way to end a wonderful day.

I want to say the highlights of my day were the facebook "happy birthdays" what a way to feel loved by my 75 closest friends!

As well as my coworkers—who totally rocked today.

WE usually do a potluck thing where everyone brings a bunch of really tasty, intimidating food and it sits there all day for me to have to look at avoid and talk to –yes talk to.

But I requested a sandwich bar thing and they delivered! I was able to eat on my meal plan comfortably and without fear. It was wonderful.

So this doesn't really have a point I just haven't written in a while.

I'm still not drinking – 9 days! But I have thrown up—just twice which is good.

I'm doing well overall except for that Ed is nagging me to lose weight. I want to be skinny but without the eating disorder—is it possible?

So I'm constantly fighting urges to restrict. To throw up meals. To over-workout. As well as those negative thoughts that keep telling me I'll be happier if I'm thinner.

It's embarrassing to admit that I just want to lose weight,  but that's where I'm at. And it's really hard with everyone talking about their diets and weight loss plans.

Also, I've noticed that I do really well if I get an entire day to myself. Where I don't have to go anywhere answer to anyone—I used to think it was bad but I realize I need to recoup—regularly. So seeing that as a positive thing is new.

Anyway, that's where I'm at. Chacha is home J I'm going to dinner with him tomorrow. Dancing on Friday with my girls. Saturday is my bd and Sunday is FOOTBALL! Go hawks.  

That's all. My stop is up. Good night!

My New Years Resolution

June 23, 2012 I broke my 6 month sobriety.
Ever since I started drinking again I've been trying to stop. But been unsuccessful.

There are times when I can have just one and go home and not binge and purge. There are days when I don't restrict all day just so I can drink. I've had times when I've gotten just shmammered and not binged and purged. And all of those times make me feel like I could do it again. However, there are more times than not that I have done the complete opposite. Plus, the next day is also incredibly hard for me to not to continue my habits since I'm hung over and miserable.

I am embarrassed that I haven't been able to stop on my own. That I've said this to my close friends and they've said "that's a good idea" and I've continued to drink. I'm embarrassed that I keep saying "Oh I've been sober at a show before and I can do it again"...only to find myself buying booze the second I'm in there.

But now that I think about it, when I did it the first time it was very hard. I had to not go out  at first, and go to AA meetings instead just to get through the weekend without having a drink. And I had forgotten that. I had forgotten how uncomfortable I was being sober while everyone else was drunk. But most importantly I forgot WHY I had made that decision for myself, it was so I could stop bingeing and puring and restricting.

So this isn't forever, but it's for now. For as long as I'm in recovery and going to the Moore Center.   I know I can do this, I just wasn't willing to take the steps to do it.

After publicly making the commitment to do this again aka posting it on facebook-because everyone knows it's not official until it's on facebook-I will have to be held accountable. I also texted my close friends so I can't be sneaky when we go get dinner or HH.

And now saying something here makes it more real. A buzz, a beer, free shots are not worth the pain, ainxst and self-deprication that happens after and the next day.

I really am worth recovery. And I need to give myself a fighting chance at it.

There will be hard times and I'll have to white knuckle it and find other ways to "get a buzz" but I can do it with your support and His love.

Also, I am going to start flossing every other day.

:)

Happy 2013-May it be our lucky year!

Damn Those Jeans

I had to work-ahem GOT to work-my other job today. We are required to wear jeans.
As you know I've been avoiding them at all costs, but today I couldn't.

I pulled my safest pair on (the ones that are always loose, the ones that make me feel happy, the ones I can count on) and they let me down.

They were tight.

Well in my twisted mind they were at least-mind you I had to pull them up walking to my bus.

I couldn't control Ed.

The thoughts flew through my mind like warp speed fast.

"Screw my treatment team, they lied. They told me I wouldn't get fat and now I'm fat. I knew I should be working out more. YEAH RIGHT that it's ok to have a cookie once in a while and not workout everyday. YEAH RIGHT my mind is distorted-this is proof. They used to be baggy now they are not. I am fat. These are like size 13 (I later discovered they were 9s) they don't make many sizes bigger. How am I so fat? How do other girls not have this happen to them..."

Then I get a text from Cha Cha. He says good morning (even though it's the afternoon in Madrid).

I take a breath and a leap of faith and call him.

Before words come out sobs do, uncontrollable sobs. "MyjeansaretightandI'mfatandIcan'ttakeitandIknowitsoundssillybutIcan'thelpitandyou'regoingtothinkI'msogrossandIcan'tgainanymoreweightIcan't...does this make sense?"

And he calms me down. He reminds me that I'm healthy now. Ed doesn't like that word. Then he says in his sexy Spanish voice "Plus, your ass, it's really nice."

I'm one lucky lady.

So I work all day and have a blast. But I don't really eat on my meal plan because once we start working an event we don't really get to stop.

By the end of my 9 hour shift I'm starving but I want to workout but I'm tired.

I go home and eat normally. Then I have some more. And then I justify more. Then I say fuckit I'm going to binge so I can throw up. I eat anything that sounds good and nothing tastes good not even the chocolate bar I threw away last night. But once I'm full enough I throw up.

I'm shaking. Eyes watering. Gasping for breath. Thinking. Welp you suck. You really suck. And at the same time, good job. Get it all out you fat ass.

I clean up and decide to start cleaning my kitchen...then I decide to go to the gym...ignoring the scared thoughts in my head about my heart (is this ok for me to do? well you've done it in the past...if you're going to be disordered today just keep it up).

So I head to the gym and fight so hard to not over-workout.

I stick to my regular routine and realize somethings.

That my recovery isn't over. And who the fuck is in charge right now? Not Kris. Ed is like way too much. Fuck you dude.

I am ok.

And furthermore, I LIKE my ass. I wish my thighs didn't touch but that just means I'm not photoshopped.

All that started this was a pair of jeans that was too tight-that ended up being size 9 and stretching out.

I have been going through a lot lately. My soccer coach and his wife died in a horrible accident. Their children and son in law are in the hospital still. I'm in treatment for an eating disorder. My boy friend has been gone for 1 and a half months. I'm trying to not drink. I'm working two jobs. And facing financial trouble. For shits sake I need to give myself more credit.

Anyway, that's it. I'm home. I'm drinking Powerade. I know tomorrow will be hard but I don't have to do what I did today and today doesn't have to effect tomorrow.

Tomorrow I'm going to Resolution. AND I AM SO FUCKING EXCITED. I have an outfit I made (I love how I come up with these things) and can't wait to hang out with my best friend and dance in the new year (once again).

Thank you guys for reading and letting me be so honest and messaging me at just the right time (aka all the time).

Love,

Kris

Merry Christmas To Me

So Christmas was a success. But it was very hard.

I woke up and helped to prepare breakfast.

Which was a big meal full of foods my Ed normally wouldn't let me eat. My anxiety skyrocketed as I tried to figure out if I was going to be able to measure my meal and exchanges out exactly.

I got through it and fought the voice in me saying "don't you dare put butter on that. Jam? Why do you  need jam? That's extra calories." But I lived.

Then onto present opening which was nice. I love seeing the look on other's faces when they see what I got them.

Even though breakfast was three hours ago I started to get hungry for lunch. So I had that. It was fine. No one in my family ate-Ed was saying things like "why are you eating fatty? no one else is eating? Remember how much you ate at breakfast?" I calmed myself down by knowing that my meal plan is to maintain my weight not explode it.

Then came movie time. Lincoln. It is very long. And the idea of having to sit in the car on the way to the movie then sit and wait for the movie, watch the movie then sit on the way home overwhelmed me. No, I can't do it. I just can't.

My hands start to shake and I am like a two year old in a stroller- GET ME OUT.

So my parents understood and saved me a seat so I could walk around before the movie.

Their support is so vital and necessary in my recovery and I'm so happy that they are starting to understand my disease rather than disreguard it.

The movie was awesome. Go see it. 

We left which means it's dinner time.

I'm incredibly anxious and fidgety from sitting for so long when my dad asks me to help with dinner.

Yes let's hang around all the food when I feel like a cow.

NO THANK YOU.

So I hung out with the veggies - made a salad.

I couldn't calm down though. I hadn't gone on any real walks, I'd eaten more fattening foods then I have in a long time without throwing up and my pants seemed to get tighter by the second. Life was crashing down on me as I knew it...Ed is so dramatic.

I prayed, I called a friend, I listened to music, I tried talking it out but nothing helped.

Until we sat down and started to watch Rudolph with our grand dinner of sammies. 

I cleaned up the dishes immediately after finishing dinner. It made me feel better. And yet the food was calling my name. Everyone was out in the living room munching away and all the desserts and extra food was right there ALL FOR ME! But I white knuckled it and made it through.

To give you an idea of how backwards my mind is...after having such a huge fear of overeating as soon as my mom goes for the goodies after dinner. I immediately want them too.

So I have white chocolate peppermint bark. Just a smidgen. But it was good. 

Then comes the ride home. My dad of course takes the longest way home. Again I had to use all my mind power to calm the fuck down in the car instead of wriggle out of it. 

I get home and have my snack.

Then made my facebook status: 
This is the first Christmas in 10 years that I have not 

1) binged
2) purged
3) drank

Merry Christmas to me!

60 people-including myself liked it. I don't even think that many people wish me a happy birthday. I felt and feel so loved.

10 is a lot of  Christmases to ruin and I sadly, when calling out that double digit number, I wasn't being dramatic. Literally every single Christmas has been ruined by my disease. Self-loathing. Depression. Fear. And while this one was tough. I didn't let my bulimia, anorexia, overeating habits get in the way. 

But ... here I am a day later, feeling like I'm back at square one.

There was left over everything from my coworkers. I had some delicious fudge that made me want the cake in the break room. 

"Please Eat" - GODDAMNIT

So I started eating it and I realized I wasn't exactly eating it rather inhaling it. So I tossed it out. Ed yelling at me. But then I say no I want it I'll have it. So I try it again eating is slowly. But with each bite I like it less and regret it more.

I was so strong yesterday. And now I'm incredibly anxious, even sweating and hot from my decision. I can't sit down for fear of feeling my legs get fatter. My heart is racing-which reminds me of how many people with this die from heart attacks. Is it too late? Have I screwed myself over already?

So this is my attempt to calm down, get out of my head. But it's not really working. That one piece of cake and fudge won't make me fat. I need to step back, breathe. Thank God I go see my nutritionist today.

God bless. Happy New Year!