I Figured Out What's Wrong With Me

Recently, I've been told more often than not by you all how much you appreciate my blog.
It means the world to me that you read and call me things like "brave" and "inspiring." Your comments are what keep me writing. It feels good to know that I'm heard, and perceived in the manner in which I intend: honest, flawed, hopeful, real.

I haven't written in a while because I have not felt I have anything useful to say. There is no epiphany, no morale of the story, no insane amount of feelings that needs to be purged onto the page.
And more often than not, I am having a hard time making sense of my feelings.

It's like when I am asked, "how are you?" I cannot answer. There's a blockage. I think back to therapy, when the tears and words flow so easily. I try to do the same in the comfort of my own room, the privacy of my desk, my car. And I just spin. I cannot connect. I get frustrated.

And I think it's because I do not actually want to feel what I feel. My mind is protecting me from feeling that deep, dark, loneliness that has haunted me since I was 12. I do it subconsciously, I do it routinely, I do it well.

I want everything to work out, I want to know what is going on, I want to have a path to follow. But every time I try to force my life down this path that I THINK I should be on, I get this stuck feeling in my mind. I want to avoid the feelings of anger, of dislike, of hurt because these feelings are telling me that what I'm pursuing isn't right for me. Isn't going to work. And that means I don't know what the fuck I'm doing anymore. That goal, that life, is not going to work for me and now I'm left with the unknown. And that is scary.

So I push myself down this path, invalidating who I am, ignoring my heart, the universe and it's signs in order to have some sense of safety. Some sense of worth. And yet the more I do these things, the more I feel less secure, and  like shit about myself.

I am reminded of this, "What you want and what you need are two different things." I need to get out of my own way and let it happen.

I have been listening to a lot of motivational speeches throughout the past month and something that stuck out to me was: in order to obtain your goals, you have to focus on the WHY not the WHAT. So why do you want a million dollars? That reason, the why, is what gets you up in the morning, the why has to be greater than all your excuses you have in your head.

And I've been realizing that I don't really have a goal, and I most certainly don't have a why. So I think that's why I'm so stuck. Why I make the same mistakes. Why I care so much about what other people think. Why I feel stuck. Because I have not found anything that drove me to want to do better and be better than my relationship. And now that that's over, I'm just idling. And I am ashamed that I don't have a self-righteous path. I guess it's because I don't see my worth. I can live for others, but I can't yet figure out how to live for myself.

I love the idea of being an independent woman. Of knowing who I am, what I want, being driven, passionate, dedicated, confident etc. but there, for whatever reason, is nothing driving anywhere. Nothing pulling at me. No passion. No goal. I just don't really care right now and I'm not sure how to find what that one thing is.

Thank you again to everyone who tells me they appreciate this. You are the reason I wrote today. And this helped to sort my thoughts, and also gave me a small sense of purpose, which I guess is what I'm looking for.

The Breakup

"What if it was ok to be yourself?" asks my therapist.

My heart drops into my stomach. My immediate answer is "No."

I try to wrap my head around it, not only the question but my reaction. Isn't that what I'm all about? I thought I was so independent. Isn't that what all those songs are about? "I don't fuck with you."? What all those Pintrest pins are about? "Just be yourself, everyone else is taken." 

I'm told to sit with this feeling. I don't want to. There's a pain in my chest and my eyes burn. Oh man, here they come. And I ugly cry about the realization that for most of my life by very influential people I've been told I'm not ok the way I am, to deal with myself, that I can't handle you anymore.

Since this session, my nearly year and half relationship  has ended. That question keeps finding its way to the forefront of my mind. "What if it was ok to be yourself?" 

My relationship didn't last because we wanted different things. He knew what he wanted, and he wanted it more than me. And me? I thought I wanted him. I thought I was being so smart and authentic by putting my relationship first, believing in love, fighting for it, dedicating myself to it. Doesn't lifelong happiness matter more than a job? 

The answer is yes, but what I was investing all of myself into was not going to end up the way I wanted. But I kept pushing, it had to work, I didn't leave everything I loved for it to all fall apart. And yet that's what it was doing. Slowly but surely our differences appeared and I didn't want to face them. 

I have spent most of my life thinking that things go sideways because there is something wrong with me. People left me throughout the course of my ED because they couldn't deal with me, because I wasn't good enough, because there was something wrong with me.

That's the storyline (oh therapy) that I've told myself over and over and over. And believed it wholeheartedly because I needed to make sense of what was happening, so that way I could try and fix it. And try I did. I would try to mold myself into the person I thought I needed to be so I could be accepted, and was exhausted because my authentic self was screaming at me that this wasn't right. I got very good at ignoring it.

And after my conversation with my therapist, a couple of TED talks and a fuckton of courage, I'm noticing more and more that I shut my heart up the instant it doesn't make sense. My ex wanted things I thought I should want. So I tried to conform, I tried to continue to push us together as we moved farther away. My anxiety escalated, my drinking and my ED. My body, my heart and my mind were screaming this isn't right but because I couldn't make sense of it I couldn't fix it so I pushed on. Until I was too tired to go on.

And now I'm left with the knowledge that I loved someone so hard and they didn't love me the same way. And that fucking blows. And this human isn't a bad person, he just wasn't the person for me AND THAT'S NOT MY FAULT, it's no one's fault. We've said our pieces and while you'd think that's enough to move on it's not. There is no defiant end point to when I have to be ok. I can process this anyway I want to. I can continue to talk it out. I can think I want him back, I can hate him, there is no right way to do this except to listen to my heart, accept my feelings with grace and curiosity. 

But it's interesting to watch me begrudgingly do so, even though I know it's right, I know it's what I want, what I need, my heart still drops into my stomach when our separation is apparent. 

When people breakup everyone always talks about personal growth, more you time. And at first I was like what the fuck does that REALLY mean? But as I type this I see how much I'm already learning about myself, my past and what can be my future. 

• I need to make the decision to change the storyline I tell myself.
• Listen to my heart and my head.
• Not have judgement on my feelings, rather look at them with curiosity because they have something to tell me.
• It's ok to not be ok and to reach out to friends.
• It's time I come first (and I always will).
• I need to take care of and respect my mind, body and soul now more than ever.
• I deserve to be loved and that includes love from myself.

Six Months. That's Half a Year.

I realized I've been here six months. The idea brings me to tears, I'm not sure what kind of tears but I don't think they are over joyed happy ones, more like I really miss home tears if I'm honest. And not like a super depressed I can't take it anymore but more just genuine heartache for the city and my friends. I can't believe it's been that long and yet I can, I guess that's how time usually goes. October feels like forever ago and I just want to hug my old self and show her she's ok and will be ok.

One thing my therapist here has taught me (or well I'm sure I was taught it but now I'm listening / seeing it) is that I will be ok. That my feelings are not something to fear but to welcome and listen to. That I do not have to fear sadness or anger or the future because I can handle whatever happens. 

When I get mad or sad or have some 'unpleasant' emotion I run from it. I subconsciously distract myself by thinking of how my thighs have grown, seeing what needs to be cleaned, have a physical impulse to get away from myself. My therapist has shown me that once I calm down from the emotion using grounding techniques (music, meditation, ice, petting my cat) I can stay present with the feeling. I can see what is happening in my body, if I'm clenching my jaw, if I'm sweaty, if I'm hot (all of these genuinely happen) which makes me want to escape more---making me more sweaty. Nice huh? When I feel the emotion, and I do not run from it I begin to learn what the emotion is telling me. It, like happiness, or fear, has a purpose. 

When I shun my feelings thinking that they are problematic, shameful and hurtful I just begin to spin. I know I'm not supposed to feel this way for one reason or another and then I get more mad I'm feeling it and then I see myself making it worse and I get more mad until I explode. Not productive, yet natural.

Now that I'm learning to give space for my 'unpleasant' emotions I am able to learn from them and calm them and not fear their return. This kind of mindset has also shown me that no matter what happens in my life I will be ok. I am learning to not live in fear. I am learning to live in the present. I like to say to myself something like I have this negative emotion but I do not want it, this is ok. We can listen to that emotion give it room to tell us what is going on and then appropriately move on. Yes I really do this. 

​I'm almost on my period (you so wanted to know that) so I'm super emotional and holding back tears as I'm at work. I haven't BP for a week and three days which is a record since moving here. I fought off the thoughts all night last night using softer language on myself and understanding. I've been thanking my body for what it does for me instead of hating it and I've been trying to be open to the idea of my rose-gold heart even though it feels very far away. ​

 I've already began to see myself in a different light and appreciate who I am rather than compare and contrast myself to others, seeing what I should do differently, what is wrong with me. I've been able to validate myself when no one else will. And try to accept the apology I was never given. I do not believe I'm fixed and I don't know how long this road will be but I feel like I've found my footing again.

The end.

Welp It's Happening.

I have my first therapy appointment scheduled for this Sunday right before the Seahawks game. Hopefully I'm not a mess as we are having like 15 people over in our one-bedroom apartment.
I have missed therapy so much. Having the space to talk and have someone listen. Priceless. (or well in my case a $20 copay each time)

But as I filled out all the questionnaires about the nature of my disorder I started to get uncomfortable. I right now am regretting not forcing myself to the gym and feel that I am getting fatter by the second.

Trusty ED always there to distract me from my feewings. (Yes I typed it that way on purpose).
Sarcasm is another coping skill I practice.
I wish you guys could hear me say this in my head--it's much funnier in my head.

Question 1: how often what is the nature and duration of your restriction?
Question 2: how often what is the nature and duration of your binges?
Question 3: how often what is the nature and duration of your purges?

Well piece of paper, I'm so glad you asked...fucking shit I hate having to put out something that's so private and shameful on paper. Trying to find the words or even summarize what I go through daily is just ... fucking annoying. No. It makes me feel stupid. I can't put it into words. I cannot summarize the pain, the struggle, the agitation whatever I even fucking go through daily in a two inch by two inch box.

And yes I know this is only to get an idea of what I do but having to face what exactly it is I'm doing is hard. And yes I'm really pretty open but damn I hate filling these out and exposing who I am and what I do so clinically. It is hard enough to relive the traumas of my past once but to have to go through this again and possibly again and again to someone new until I find the right one is just exhausting.

I hate seeing what I do in black and white. I hate facing it. It's so much better but it's not at its best and I hate it. I don't want to have to admit my faults, my struggles. I don't want to have to really think about how much of a hold on me it still has. I don't want to be analyzed. I want to be listened to and understood and helped.

I didn't know how emotional this form would make me or the idea of going back to 'treatment' would be. I actually have to work. I actually will have to delve deep and pull it out or rip it out and it will hurt.

I already feel like retreating and going to work out. That'll solve it. If I can just eat perfectly. If I can just get the perfect body. If I can just be perfect at work, with my boyfriend, never be mean, never upset the balance then I don't need this.

...and alas I have tried that and I know it doesn't work. And I am where I am today because for so long I tried to make it 'perfect'.

So ya I'm looking forward to the session and I'm also petrified. ED is getting louder by the second in revolt over being prodded. Ugh.

Why can't they just create a pill to cure me?

Just Cried In A Ball On My Floor

Exhaustion.

That's what I feel.
Emotionally.
Physically.

But I want to capture this. I want to share this with you.

It was hard for me to not go to the gym tonight, I still needed to move but I'm getting too obsessed with the gym again so I came home and put on my Sporty Spice outfit (sports bra and yoga pants).

I start trying to gogo dance and realize it's not authentic and I'm just trying too hard.
So I lose the mirror and go into my room.
Dancing for myself by myself.

I start moving into some yoga when I tire.

Then on comes Kaskade's Invisible.

Memories of high school come rushing back.
It's been on the surface as I'm talking about my molestation and need for acceptance in therapy and groups more often.

I see myself. My many faces. I feel my pain, depression, confusion.

I hear the lyrics "every day I try to look my best even when inside I'm such a mess."

I'm no longer in my studio in Seattle. I'm no longer 26. I'm 15. I'm in the halls. I'm seeing the looks, I'm hearing the words that still cut me. The pain is so real and so raw it over comes me.
As I try to go through my moves I succumb to the pain.
I almost collapse into the memory that feels so real.
I have not allowed myself to think about that time since it happened.
It's too much.
I'm curled up on the floor, sweating, crying, shaking.

The song fades and I feel like I will not move from this spot ever. I feel I will be stuck in my high school at 17 and anorexic forever.

My concept of time is gone.

Moments but what feels like hours later Titanium by David Guetta feat Sia comes on.

Goosebumps move from my heart outward.

"You shout it out but I can't hear a word you say."

I always relate that to my ED and everything he says to me.

I'm snapped out of it immediately (so much for my dramatic comment earlier).
I'm at Ultra in Miami two years ago.

I feel the night's humidity, the lights bounce off my skin, the beat moves me.
Moves us--the crowd and I are one.
All of us strangers brought together for one purpose.
Unity.
There's power here.
Power in the universe.

I feel it here in my room. I realize my arms are up and I'm mouthing the words as tears stream down my face, "You shoot me down but I won't fall, I am titanium."

I do power yoga moves until I collapse once again with pure anger.
Anger at this disorder.

"Shooting at the ones who run."

I am so mad at my eating disorder. Preying on my weakness. Relentless. But I am becoming new. I have power in the universe, there is power in me.

The anger and the determination mix and I am clawing at the carpet.
I heave with each trying breath, harder to get out.
There is so much passion here.
Passion within me to live.

It ends.

I rest, waiting to see what my higher power picks for me next.

Moment For Life by Nicki Minaj.

I'm brought back to a post I wrote a couple of years ago.

It was when I first felt the presence of myself. Of my authentic self. When I first felt alive in a long time.

It was the first time in years, YEARS, I wasn't numb. I felt my anger. I felt it strong.

I am taken back to the sunny gym on an innocent Sunday afternoon where I punched the bag until my knuckles bled and my arms couldn't.

I think of that girl and I'm so fucking proud of her.
I look at me now and I see who she's grown into.

And I'm so proud of where she's going.

I wish I could have this moment for life.

PS Yes I took a picture and yes it looks so much more dramatic and cheesy out of the moment but what I just experienced, and what I just wrote about was real and I wanted to try and convey that in more mediums than one. So there I am raw and real.

Let's Get Sexual.

I've been waiting for you.

The anticipation is killing me.

This excitement only comes with the unknown.

My heart skips a beat. My head races.

Then I see you.

My stomach drops.

You start off slow. Tease me.

With the lightness of a breath you trace up my spine.

My body is alive with anticipation.

My breath quickens.

I let out a yell.

I can't help myself. 

I want you. All of you.

You've enveloped my senses.

I don't know where I am.

What have you done.

Don't stop.

You bite at my ears.

Play with my hair.

I stretch my body to the sky.

Vulnerable.

It's just us.

Just do it. 

Make me lose control.

And with one movement. In one second. 

You have all of me. I'm yours.

Pulse push twist turn. 

Grab me. Hold me.

Make me work.

Push me harder. Pump it faster.

Excitement shakes through my body.

Here it comes.

Lift me up. Get me high.

Sweat drips. Hearts race.

I pulse to your pace.

I'm yours if you just take it-take it all away.

You see me at my worst and bring out my best.

You make me feel alive. Transformed

Take me away from who I am. Where I am. What I am.

Make the impossible possible.

There's nothing other than this moment.

And this is all I need.

Exhausted you slow.

I've never felt more alive. Calm, serene yet awake—aware.

Present.

You are my hope. 

My ease. Happiness. 

Maybe everything will be ok.

Maybe life is this simple.

EDM you are everything. 

So I was trying to be dirty and make you think I was talking about ChaCha and I and well that's just none of yo bizznass. But I wrote this to apply to how EDM makes me feel time and time again. Nothing but my higher power who I call God and electronic dance music get me as elated as they do.

So screw you bulimia and alcoholism. I just need to hear the bass drop.