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!

Numb : My Remix

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

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

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

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

"Numb"

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

Skinny, perfect
Feeling so faithless, lost under the surface

There's no hope here with you

Don't know what you're expecting of me

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Relapse

I've been avoiding you.

It's not you. It's me.

If I write it out, then I have to face it. I have to feel this shame and hate and guilt. I have to come to terms with my weight gain. And I'm going to be a hot mess after this post is over.

I'm already snotting all over myself from thinking about what to write.

Ed is coming back.

About a week ago, I tried on my leggings (which are my always comfy go-to safe pants) and they were tight. So I tried on another pair trying to keep my spirits up. And as I stripped off each failed pair my positivity went with it. This was proof—I've gained more weight.

Since that Tuesday morning I have had nonstop thoughts about exercise, how much I hate my body, how uncomfortable I am at this weight and that I should start restricting.

I mean I go upstairs or on walks and have to hold my hand across my stomach because it jiggles.

My leggings dig into my sides when I sit down.

My boobs don't even fit in my bras anymore. Which is what I thought I wanted but now there's no hiding them.

Yesterday I went out and it took me a while to get dressed. Nothing fit right because I was exploding out of the tops and bottoms. I finally put on my comfy pair of (get this) pink leopard pants (SUPER stretchy) and a tank that covered these bad girls. I walked to get a cab and got stared at and hit on by three different guys. Which you would think is flattering but they don't know that this is all I have to wear. I'm trying to act confident and not cry in front of the drunk black gentleman (ahem guy) asking where I'm headed if he can holler, I'm losing it inside. He doesn't know that behind my heavily mascaraed eyes, push up bra (the only one left that fits) and my skin tight pants that the last thing I want is to be seen.

It's so shameful that you, them, everyone can see me, my fat, my failure. It's there and it's big and it's in plain sight.

I am so ashamed. So disgusted with my body. I want out.

These thoughts are exhausting.

Ed's starting to choose what I wear, what I eat, how I spend my time (aka choosing the gym over friends). I'm losing my life again. But I don't know how to stop it because he's so strong and so convincing. And I am so unhappy.

I believe I'm right. I believe I've gained too much weight and this needs to stop.

My recovery team was saying it's possible that my mind is creating this sensitivity to clothing and obsession. But I do not believe that my mind is that warped, that fucked up. It has to be true that I'm fat. And that it's not stopping. It's like if you touch an oven that's on and your brain tells you it's hot then you know it's hot. The way my clothes fit, the jiggling, the uncomfortability…that's my brain telling me how much I've gained. It's not ok.

Especially not now. Come on man not during the start of spring / summer. Not when I have to wear less. Be more social. Have girls that are thin running around in outfits I wish I could wear. This is usually my favorite time, I mean hello have you seen Seattle in the summer? But I can't do summer because I don't have anything to wear.

I tried on my shorts—every last pair. And NONE of them fit. What used to fall off of me a year ago is now SKIN tight. And when I went to shop for more in sizes like 30 and 13 they didn't fit. They were too tight. I don't fit in anywhere. I'm just too big. I don't get it. I don't understand how other girls are thin and don't have this. Why am I so large why can't I eat and not get fat?

I tried so hard to do this right but I can't. I can't be this big. It's a huge red flag. I MUST lose weight. Or else I'll continue to be this obsessed and miserable.

But I'm so confused because I was miserable when I was thin.  But now that I'm fat I'm more uncomfortable, filled with more hate. Recovery is supposed to make me feel better. But now I don't believe that I need to eat as much as they are telling me. I believe my disordered ways worked…at least in the weight category.

I'm also confused because I had this photo shoot for fun and people are leaving incredibly nice comments on them. I think they are making them up. How could THAT be pretty? THAT body be admired? It's disgusting.

I can't even walk normally because I hate how my thighs touch. I don't like showering because then it's just me and my body.

I don't know if this will even make sense to anyone who doesn't have one but I'm hurting. I'm so confused. I'm so incredibly uncomfortable. And I'm full of hate. The only thing keeping me going is that every day I eat less and workout more is a day closer to being comfortable.

IAMAFUCKINGBALLOONANIMAL

I'm supposed to journal about my hunger.

I say I'm supposed to like it wasn't my idea - BECAUSE IT WAS!

I said it at some strange point when I was in a fine and dandy mood. Recovery? Yea--I can do that. No problem.

Now I'm just white knuckling not using behaviors (over exercising or bingeing). I'm making myself write this before leaving work because Ed was all "oh do it when you're home." As soon as we get home we go to the kitchen and eat the first thing we see.

I feel like a fucking balloon animal. My safest leggings are tight. Yes I know they are leggings you smart ass...but they are worse or feel worse. I didn't want to wear them but I had NOTHING else to put on this fat ass.

So I'm uncomfortable. Every movement is a reminder of my insecurity and I get more and more annoyed with myself.

On top of that I'm insane because I'm on birth control and prozac but when you throw up 3/7 days of the week you don't really get the full effect of the medicine. AND I'm on my period kind of. So my body is all sorts of fucked up.

I just want to feel better now. And I'm not. My anxiety is growing by the minute and writing about it is not helping. It's magnifying it. I'm so aware of what I'm feeling physically and emotionally and I can't go to what I usually do to make myself feel better sooooooooooooo...what the fuck do I do?

My heart is racing. I'm sucking in while writing. Clenching my legs. My teeth are  locked. I want to explode. I want to feel better. I want to be thin. Then all this would go away. I want to run away from myself. I don't want to be this anymore. I don't want this disease. I don't want to be an alcoholic. I want to be normal. I want to not have treatment four days  a week and meetings in between just to fucking function.

I'm getting madder as I write.

I'm hungry. I haven't eaten in 4 hours so it's probably real hunger. But sometimes it's just emotional. It feels like real hunger. God this disease is everywhere. I fucking hate it. I'm going to go hit something. Fuck I can't the gym is taken up right now.

I don't know what to do.

I'm a fat emotional wreck and I hate it this me everything. a,sdmfl;k;df jfd;lkd;lkf;dskfgp FUCK.

Plus Size My Ass

So I'm a product copywriter-which means I write about products-so no not copy RIGHT.

The age range for the clothing and accessories that I cover has changed from infant, toddler, kids and now to tween. Tween is exactly what it sounds like in-be-TWEEN ages. So I cater to the confused, awkward, not grownup yet but are starting to discover their independence girls. It's a WONDERFUL age. When you really think about it this is one of the toughest ages to be. So I'm giving props to my Justin Beiber, cropped smiley face neon tank wearing, eyeshadow over-using ladies.

Ok cool. So getting to my point...

Today I'm writing a sale for 'plus-size' tweens and I'm a bit pissed off-er well, more than that since I'm blogging about it.  

As soon as the higher ups saw the words "plus size" I was told to "not say plus.... (because it's a) sensitive age."

THIS IS THE SHIT that got me started (when I was a tween) hating my body. I was always bigger-no one is really 5'8'' in the 6th grade and I was VERY aware of it. 
The kids made fun of me. 
I had to shop in the grown up sections but it wasn't fun, rather it was shameful.

This "sensitive age" shit won't go away until these girls are in their '50s and don't give a flying fuck anymore. 
HOW DISGUSTING. 
HOW AWFUL. 
How sad. 

The plus-size just means that the clothes are cut wider, not longer (because that just looks frumpy). These styles just give girls the room they need while coming in looks that are trendy. 

But it just pisses me right off that everyone is tip toeing around the fact that they are for "larger girls" "bigger sizes" "husky ladies." 

I talked to the buyer who used to work for Nordstrom and she said in her 25 years there that they NEVER sold plus size, that's just not something they did.

And after checking their website just briefly (so feel free to correct me if I'm wrong) I don't see PS on there at for juniors or girls. It's like they saying just because the girls are not petite, not cookie cutter sized that they are not able to shop where all the other girls are. 

THIS is the age when girls start to realize that everyone is different, that body size "matters." They start listening to the media and their peers and make judgements about themselves and their self worth. 

WHO SAYS PLUS SIZE IS OFFENSIVE? That it's an insult? I say fuck you. I wear a size 11 / 13 and that's one of the biggest out there but I'm not fat. I'm me-sized. I eat, I exercise and I'm the weight I'm supposed to be and I can barely fit in most jeans out there which makes me feel like shit. Like I'm less. Like there's something wrong with me.

This is the first time our company is running a plus-size girls event and I am SO happy that we are. The styles we are running look just like all the other tween styles out there, they just come in bigger sizes. I love that we are starting to cater to ALL girls because all girls deserve to look and feel their best no matter what their size.

Props to Khols and JCP for doing this too.

Thanks for reading.

Like Anyone is Going To Read This On a Friday Night

That was me a year ago. I was too skinny, just out of jail (seriously), miserable and confused.

Today was supposed to be a celebration.

To mark how far I've come.

How successful I am now.

How changed, enlightened, happy, healthy…whatever…I am.

I'm writing to you from the tangled blankets of my bed. My eyes sting every time they close because they are dry—that's what happens when you throw up three times in three hours.

 I am disgusted with myself.

I have more support than I've ever had.

IOP at the Moore Center which I go to four days a week.

A full time job with understanding lead and manager.

A sponsor in AA and the fellowship.

My wonderful boyfriend.

My gracious friends.

My now understanding parents.

And yet here I am. Eyes half open. Hands shaking. My stomach nauseated. My throat raw.

Some celebration.

I see the negative working in my head. It wants to bash me, make me hurt. Just give in…you've already fucked up your meal plan…fuck up your sobriety. Let everyone down. Who cares? I mean really? They'll just be disappointed for a while but you've put them there before. They've heard it before. Just do it again.

This all started when I stopped drinking.

The compulsion to overeat was uncomfortable. I would find my mind drifting to what I could binge off of "for the last time." I began to mourn my eating disorder. I never understood that until now.

So I did it. I looked everyone in the eye and told them I was ok as my destructive plans worked in my head. I binged and purged last night. It hurt. It was not enjoyable.

However, I woke up rejuvenated. Happier than I'd been all week. Shit. This eating disorder DOES serve me a purpose.

4 hours later I'm eating my lunch an hour early…then going into my snack. All my food gone before lunch even started.

I slowly began to binge after that. Grabbing snacks, cookies, breads, cakes no one stopping me. The rush of doing it in front of people. The hate for myself swimming in my head with each bite.

I was so full I could barely move—this girl was not going to treatment. It was family night too. So I bailed on my recovery team, my parents and myself for food. Luckily work got so busy that I ended up having to stay late.

So I had to sit with all this food in me. It was so uncomfortable.

I called my AA sponsor for peace. She gave it to me and yet I could hear the thoughts going. "Maybe this one last combination of food…cake batter and cookie dough…maybe that'll do it…"

But I fought it. I fought it for an hour until I found myself at QFC with the cookies in hand.

So I came home and did what I do best. I ate until I couldn't stand up and barely had to force myself to vomit. Then I did it until I was shaking and stomach acid was stinging my throat.

"There. That's it." I thought. And yet I forgot, like I do every time, that that "last time" isn't my last time. I found myself searching the cupboards for another concoction that'd wake me up give me that jolt of whatever it is I needed. Nothing came out so I just ate things I knew I could throw up easily.

I know this is graphic but well, I'm being honest. This is the only place I am honest. Because I don't have to look at any of you…I don't tell my best friends this or my treatment friends…the shame is too great. But here I can tell the black and white of my screen and release. Anyway…

So I did it. And then I did it again. And now I can't stop shaking.

I'm supposed to go to Lucky in 2 hours. I'm dehydrated, exhausted and well fucked up. A drink sounds good right now. Escape from my escape.

 But does it really sound that good? What did I just learn? That bingeing and purging didn't help but rather hurt so what will my other addiction do? Help then hurt.

I can't tell if I've come as far as I thought, there's that negativity again.

So here goes my gratitude list:

·         I'm so grateful for ChaCha he listens to me and doesn't blame me for any of my faults.

·         I'm grateful I'm not in jail right now

·         I'm grateful for finding glitter nail polish and flower clips at Walgreens

·         I'm grateful that my mom and I talk pleasantly to one another every day

·         I'm grateful that I get to dress like a slutty rainbow tonight and it's ok

·         I'm grateful that I have gigantic boobs to show off tonight

·         I'm grateful for Gatorade because my electrolytes are so fucked up that I could have a heart attack if I don't drink the stuff

·         I'm grateful for the legs I hate that allow me to dance all night long

·         I'm grateful for Pretty Lights because a year ago at Ultra they helped change my life and how I felt about shows.

Thanks for reading.