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.

Fuck You Fries

I couldn't stop staring at this. Anyone realize what's wrong here? Anyone?

If you said: The fries have barely been touched. 

YOU ARE CORRECT!

Those fries belonged to my brother, Steven.

Dad, Steven and I were at Blue Moon Burger for Fathers' Day.

I hadn't seen either one of them in way too long.

And here I sit staring at fried potatoes.

I had to consciously drag my mind away from how much I wanted to eat those fries, and my bewilderment as to why Steven hadn't devoured them yet.

The kid couldn't stop talking about the amazing work he'd just finished doing at Whipple Observatory in Arizona with a professor. His burger sat, with a perfect bite taken out of it, lonely, unnoticed as all of his attention went to trying to explain to me different physics terms, facts, theories and other super intelligent thingys.

Poor burger. If I wouldn't throw you up and hate myself for eating your delicious, fattening, greasy goodness I'd have never let you sit there for so long.

The third time I had to say "Wait. What?" to Steven I realized just how much attention I was giving his food, that I was so inside my own head and my obsession and my twisted thinking that I was ignoring my little brother talking about one of the coolest experiences he's ever had. That's fucking stupid that I do that. And yet I do. That burger and fries was like an open bar to an alcoholic. Or dangling drugs in front of an addict.

I had to laugh at myself though. Realizing that this really is a disease, a physical, mental and emotional disease. Which led me to realize how different I am. And not just because of my disease but just how different of a person I am from my brother.

And at first I was ashamed.

(please keep in mind my wheels are turning and working this through as I try to understand spectro-something theories and hold conversations with my family haha)

Steven talked so passionately, excitedly about his work at the observatory. He showed me pictures to point out what he was talking about. He cared whether or not I got what he was talking about. It made me admire him even more than I already do.

So then my mind wandered to: What have I done lately? Oh ya I wrote about tie-dye tutu tee shirts. And my new zit cream is so not working, but at least my eyelashes look pretty today. And I um get my hair done on Monday. COOL LIFE.

I made the comment that I was too stupid to get what was being talked about. And as soon as the words left my lips something inside me said "no you're not." And the fact that, on my own that came up as a red flag is huge improvement. That instead of continuing to put myself down I stood up for me (it's  fun fighting with yourself).

Then, by the grace of God, I began to embrace and make fun of the differences between myself and my brother.

The burgers and fries were their splurge. Mine was having ketchup and a couple fries. And Parmesan cheese on my chicken.

And that's ok. Because that's who I am. That's where I am at in life.

It's ok that when Steven said helium I immediately thought of sucking the air out of balloons and talking in funny voices rather than it as an element.

That when I heard the words "Super Nova" I didn't think of an exploding star but rather Zenon Girl of the 21st Century.

And it's even kind of cool that I started jotting down notes in my phone so I could remember what I wanted to blog about later.

Because while I am not a scientist, I am a writer.

There are a lot of things I'm not, but that makes me who I am. And I'm learning to stop fighting that and embracing it. So kids, and you should try this too, here are five things I really like about myself.

1. I like my witty sarcasm
2. I like the shape of my lips
3. I like that I will dance at any time and anywhere 
4. I like that I wear a ring on each finger
5. I like that I have a blog (and if I may add to that-I like that you're reading it)

Now those are not that exciting, cool and really quite random but they help make me who I am. And who I am is slowly becoming ok and I'm slowly becoming ok with who I am.

For your viewing pleasure:

Sassy Pants

It's your attitude Kristin. I heard that so many times from my mom. My nickname was 'Tude or bitch (behind my back thank ya) during a season of club volleyball. I've heard once or twice "Oh she got SASS!" from a gentleman or two at the bar. So that word, attitude, has surrounded my life and I'm full of it. And it has inspired this INSPIRING blog post. It's all about attitude ladies and gentlemen. Every morning when I wake up I'm a crabby ass bitch. I glare, frown and give mean looks to everyone from old ladies in my way on the street to stupid stop lights that won't change for me. UNTIL someone who doesn't have an attitude problem wakes me up out of it. Lately, especially today, I was feeling sorry for myself. Everyone at work seems to be taking on bigger roles, training for things, and surpassing me while I'm over in my corner with my Most Improved Award. And actually I didn't get an AWARD, my lead just said that to me once. Fail. Now we all know what that means, you sucked and now you don't suck as much. So while moping to my sad little self I decided to drag my fat ass on a walk. I stomped my stress out. I came back rejuvenated and ready to take on my next event. Then I hear someone else is training for a new role, who started months after me. FUCKINGSHIT. I swear a little raincloud grew over my head when God said. HOLD UP. He reminded me to focus on me ONLY ME and what was happening right now. I had a 75 item event to write up. So I could either pout and be a brat or I can do my damn best. I owned that damn thing. I did a 75 item event in about an hour and 20. I remember back when that'd make me CRY (remember attitude problem). God has His plan for me. I'm not sure what it is, we can safely say it's not to be a really killer copywriter, but there are so many other options for me. I need to trust in Him that He knows best and if I keep striving to follow and do His word I'll be ok. Plus, I am improving (there's that damn word again) and well, I'm not fired. Someone please knock on wood. Another word I want to put into your head is perspective. This came into play was when I decided todance around in my room instead of going to the gym. I was dog tired but there's nothing like Hot n Fun by Boys Noize to get me going. As I was shaking it like Beyonce (remember it's all about your perception) I noticed that it didn't take much to get my thighs to jiggle. Not the good kind. WHOOSH CRASH BANG ANOREXIA!!! My head swirled with not nice words, plans of dieting, cursing the Reeses I had earlier and believing the world was out to get me. And this kids is my disgusting flabby white thigh, unedited I'm sorry to say, to prove my point.

So I went harder, did more lunges to the back of my room away from that damn mirror that spoke nothing but the truth. I turn around and WHOOSH CRASH BANG BOMB. "OH SHIT. I look good." Literally came out of my mouth. WTF MATE? I flexed my leg some more, bent one way, twisted another and got my sausage legs to turn sultry. TA DA!

Oh ok. I get it. It's all in how you look at it. Hating your situation, pouting, whining, all that annoying crap doesn't fix a damn thing. So focus on the positive, speak kindly to yourself and focus on what you have—because no one likes a grumpy pants. <3