Gooday : Value Village Edition

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



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

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

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

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

I got myself JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE WORLD TOUR TICKETS! FUCKYABITCHES.

Then I saw this cat video courtesy of ChaCha

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

Captured a real gem right here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was an awkward QFC, deli section conversation.

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

And that's all.

Thanks for reading.

The Moral of the Bachelorette Party

This weekend I caught a glimpse into life.
It was refreshing, scary, hard, surreal, fun.
This was the first weekend away since I can remember actually having a social life that I was addiction and disease free.

I went to Leavenworth with my best girl friends for my friend's bachelorette party.
In a word is was wonderful.

It was no crazy party weekend in Vegas with luxury topped with glamour but that's not who I am or my friends are.

My friends are real people. They are down to earth. They are humble. They are kind. They are not afraid to be themselves. They say what's on their mind. They do what they want to do but put friends first. They have healthy relationships with food, alcohol and their significant other. They are my role models.

Considering the elements of a bachelorette party - or any weekend away really - it could be a feeding ground (er literally) for my eating disorder and alcoholism. When we were in the car over I was like WTF am I thinking? Everyone is going to want to day drink. Take shots. Pop bottles. Have mimosas. Have "bad" foods around 24/7. These girls can eat what they want when they want and still be thin. These girls are all gorgeous inside and out. And who am I to them? No one.

When I got to the cabin after the car ride my mind was racing and my anxiety high. I just saw everything I wasn't. I saw these girls that had career paths. Fiances. Awesome travel experiences. Great looks. Natural beauty. They could  hold a beer in their hand and causally drink. They could say I'm full after a cupcake. These girls were not me. Once again I was alone. The outsider. The boring one. The one who didn't fit in. I had nothing to offer this group--I wasn't even the skinniest one anymore--more like the largest.

I left the laughs and conversation a half hour after it started in the cabin and went on a walk. I felt the sun on my arms and the tears force themselves from my eyes. I tried batting them away-that's the last thing I needed-to look like the loser who wanted attention. Who was already creating drama "Everyone hates me. Poor me."

So I kept walking and I found myself talking. I don't know who I was talking to but talking turned to pleading. It turned to honesty. It turned into prayer.

I asked for help. I said I don't know how to do what I'm doing. I don't know how to be around so much alcohol, food and people at once with none of my old coping mechanisms. I prayed for strength. I prayed for Him to help me help others feel happy and comfortable on their experience.

Then I called some people. And while they didn't answer just crying on their voicemail and telling them my fears, hatred for these thoughts and longing to just be normal was enough.

I went back in and it wasn't easy right away but it got there.

This is the first get away that I can remember where I was not binging, purging, or drinking.

And...fack I'm starting to cry again...it feels so fucking good. I feel so free. I ate waffles for breakfast and had a cupcake at 1 AM. I got cheese and mayo on my sandwich. I didn't have to force myself to go on a morning run. I didn't need to drink. I wasn't constantly checking my reflection or fixing my makeup when we were out. I didn't care what people thought and I didn't need guys to tell me I was hot.

I'm so blessed to have the support system I do and you know what I don't even think the girls there have any idea what they were doing for me or what was going through my head most of the time. But I think that's the best way to do it.

My dietitian told me "Recovery is what I do outside of treatment." And I love that because that means that I really am in recovery.

While the thoughts are still in my head and I'm having trouble with the number I read on the scale today and that one girl didn't seem to like me much overall this weekend couldn't have gone any better.

So I guess the moral of the bachelorette party is that anything is possible from finding true love to living a life you never thought you could.

God bless.

It's Not My Fault

Yesterday was a good day overall.
So was the day before that.
I mean they were hard and I had to constantly fight Ed but really I was in control and I was happy.

So today threw me for a loop.
I woke up with an off feeling.
I never know where to place the blame or how to combat it. But it almost feels like an inevitable binge purge day (yes that's probably where my problem is...but I do try to do everything in my power to not think that way).
But it didn't work.
I just finished bingeing and purging consecutively.
It's a Saturday night.
I should be with AA people hanging out.
I should have gone to the meeting.
I should have not opened that box of that one thing that led to me opening all the boxes, bags, containers, cartons of all things.
But I did and I can't change the past.
And while I feel like shit physically, something came over me mentally.
I got mad.
And for once I didn't get mad at myself. I didn't get mad at the food. Mad at my "too tight pants." Mad at "those fuckin' skinny bitches with big boobs (HOW DO THEY DO IT?)".
I got mad at Ed.
I just finished saying something like this out loud to myself while cleaning up my kitchen (because I stared at the box of food that started it all cursing it for tempting me) when I realized that it's not the foods fault, it's not the clothes, the media, the girls, the guys (even though none of these help) and it's NOT MY FAULT.
It's the fact that I'm powerless over this disease. It's a disease that's cunning and attacks both your physical, mental and emotional person.
I'm powerless over it. And what I do is not my fault. So getting upset that I fucked up again. Cursing random food. The Victoria's Secret models...isn't going to help.
Because I'm always pointing my finger elsewhere Ed was skirting the blame.
So instead of beating myself up and trying to find out where "I messed up" I need to find out where HE got in. What HE did. What HE said. What HE made me believe. And I need to get rid of it. To change it. Not me. Because the real me would never treat myself like this.

Even though I'm powerless over this disease it doesn't mean I'm helpless.

Now I'm going to rehydrate and watch Weeds. Good night.

When I stay at home and in bed

It's easier to stay at home and in bed because then I don't have to go through the torture of getting ready in the morning. From under my covers I'm not faced with the relentless not good enough comments. I don't come across yet another outfit I'm too fat for. I put on the shame for my looks easier than I can a pair of shorts.

When I stay at home and in bed I don't have to face people. I don't have to catch their looks, glances, judgements. I don't have to wonder if I'm being checked out by the guys headed south on my bus. I don't have to fear how fat I'll feel when I sit down. I don't have to play mind games and wonder what everyone is thinking. "Are they making fun of me?  I look like I'm trying too hard. I don't look good enough. I should've stayed home."

When I stay at home and in bed I don't have to try to interact with people at work. I don't have to go through wondering if I'm good enough. "What does my manager really think of me? Why don't those co workers talk to me?"  I don't have to get so nervous that I literally can't talk. I don't get so anxious that I avoid walking past people that might talk to me. I don't have to fight the urge to eat the donuts someone brought in. I don't have to make myself to go on walks and debate if I should workout on my lunch break. I don't have to persuade myself to not eat my breakfast lunch and snack all I'm one sitting...hating myself the rest of the day.

When I stay at home and in bed I don't have to go to treatment and try to figure out the right thing to say to cure me.  I don't have to confess all my sins and weird habits. I don't have to think about how much this hurts, how entrapped I am. I don't have to see the skeleton 13 year old girls and have a sick jealousy toward them.

When I stay at home and in bed I don't have to make myself to go to the gym and exercise til it hurts.  I don't have to see the girls that are better looking than me and wonder how they do it and ask myself why can't I do that? What's wrong with me? I don't have to plan out what not to eat later and regret  what I ate earlier.

When I stay home and in bed I don't have to lie to ChaCha about how I'm doing. I don't have to worry about being a burden. I don't have to worry about getting tiring and annoying.

When I stay home and in bed I don't have to deal with Ed.

I don't have to answer to him. I don't have to be trapped in my own head. I don't have to go through the pain, anxiousness and confusion that is my life. 

It's easier if I stay at home and in bed.

F*ckingSh*tF*ck

I'm shook up.

I feel like I want to get sick.

Last night after I had a scary binge I swore I wouldn't do any eating disorder behaviors again.

But then I wake up this morning and start to overeat.

Ok I get it I'm powerless. Help me God. Fuckingshit help me.

They keep telling me to pray and act as if but I'm still doing these behaviors and I really don't want to but at the time I do and I can't seem to stop and that's where you come in and help me because I know I need help.

I want to step down my treatment but I think it's subconsciously fucking me up. Putting even more of a weight on bingeing, making it more forbidden so therefore I do it more.

Last night I binged so hard I had 12 muffins 4 grill cheeses and I could barely throw up without choking on my own puke.

That's how others die not me.

I am hoping that if I have a bad enough one that it'll force me to stop.

Like when I drank so badly that one day and I haven't had a drink since.

I'm calling today my binge purge sober day. Day one.

But then again I'm having a hard time not overeating at breakfast. Even when I don't want to…I just do it. Then I feel like shit about myself and I hate myself.

I loathe myself.

And I don't think watching Girls helped because Hannah is going through some weird shit on her own and then she meets up with Adam and now everything is better?
But it doesn’t work like that. No man can save me from this. Only God can and he doesn't seem to give a flying fuck.

Maybe I'm just too sick to see how he's working and helping but I  just want to be better and I work so hard but I can't work this hard all the time.

Is that the truth or just an excuse?
I feel like I use it as an excuse to use behaviors that I deserve to because I've been working to damn hard.

That really makes no sense. I've been working so hard to not use behaviors so to bring me relief I need to use behaviors?
I can't stop shaking because I feel so unsettled.

I feel like shit from BP and from lack of sleep.

I feel like shit from eating weird combinations of foods.

I feel like shit because I almost got hit by a bus on my bike and my nerves are through the roof.

I'm shaking. I can't stop shaking.

I feel so fat right now. Like all that food I ate last night already went to my thighs and ass.

I can feel it. Why did I do this again?
Why can't I stop?

Fuck you I fucking hate you.

I'm done with myself I'm so fucking done.

Update

I keep meaning to write but then I don't want to.
So I'm forcing myself to do it now.
It's like getting me to leave the house instead of isolate and eat all day...once I do it I'm happy it's just hard getting me to do it.

So...I've been following the Boston bombings (like the rest of you all) and am so fucking happy to hear they caught that fucker. It doesn't bring lives back though.

Today has been a hard day.

This morning I stayed at home until 11 (compare that to a 7 AM usual start) doing errand type things.

1. Quit my job at Bonneville Seattle where I did promotions for ESPN and 97.3 KIRO FM. It was great and I learned a lot but I just could never work and when I did I was always exhausted the next week. Plus, well, it didn't pay well. It was more for the experiences and people than anything.
2. I have been looking for a new job and found one! Yay! BUT they don't offer insurance at first. Insurance=my life. I need it to continue treatment. I looked into Cobra but they couldn't help me since I don't have 24 months of almost consecutive coverage. And that's thanks to those fuckers who stopped my coverage when I graduated college. So I was just fucking pissed all morning that something I wanted, deserved and needed was taken from me. And it's once again because of Ed and things out of my control. I hate that feeling. HATE IT. SO that's what set me off.
3. So so far I've declined two jobs and here's where maybe I'll gain one. I was a photo booth hostess last year and was let go because of my disease. Yes that's fucked up but I think the owner did have my best intentions at heart (I mean there's nothing BUT booze and food at weddings). BUT they are giving me another chance :)

So after all that I get to work out of my routine and try to start working.

Then I'm reminded by my mom that my Granny's birthday is today. The one who passed away in September. It's a very hard day for my dad and then I hear that he had to leave work early. My dad IS NOT emotional. So then I get upset. 

Then I start eating. I don't really realize it because it's lunch time. I'm not hungry and I'm not not hungry but here I am eating. And I don't stop. I still eat on my meal plan but I keep pushing it eating lunchsnackdinner in one sitting.

Oh shit. As soon as I come to I feel really full. I want to purge. I have to purge. OMG what did I do?

No. No you don't do that anymore. You want to get better and not need treatment? You need to talk back to Ed you need to defy him.

But it's so fucking uncomfortable. 

It won't make you feel better and it'll throw your day off more.

Call someone.

So I did. I called three friends and they all helped and I'm happy to say that I didn't purge.

This disease is a sneaky one but I'm onto him. I'm really just sick of him telling me what to do and how to do it.

Lately I've made these changes:

1. asked to step down to outpatient from intensive outpatient. I just can't handle going to work full time treatment then AA. Everything is falling a part around me and I'm spread so thin I can't do anything well.
2. I am working out every other day instead of every day. I realized that I have been resenting the gym because I would push myself to go to the gym when I actually had free time.  Plus then there's no room for other fun things which makes me sad and want to isolate.
3. I've had to work really hard at not future tripping. I want a new job and I want it now. But it doesn't work like that. When i hear other coworkers getting these amazing offers and things I'm like what's wrong wiht me? Why can't I get that? But no, in good time God will show me my way.
4. I've been working on not eating in front of the tv and or really taking the time to taste what I am eating. Slowing it down. It's helping me to show me when I'm full and what that feels like.

PS I was on the phone with the Cobra lady and I told her I had bulimia and she goes...what's that? And I was like uh seriouslY? In my head. I had to resist the urge to say I can read minds (from Zoolander) and tell her what I did to myself. She had heard of it but didn't know the extent of it.

CRAZY that something that has taken over my life someone else couldn't even be familiar with.

An Update...Thing.

I've been meaning to write.
But that would require effort.
That's not something I have much of lately.

(For those of you who know where I work please respect to keep this to yourself)

I can't get up for work in time to save my life. I have to bribe myself with a latte.

I don't want to go to the gym.

I would rather wear sweats-every day.

I keep cancelling my plans with friends.

It's much easier to do nothing than something.

But it's not like I've been doing NOTHING. I do a shit ton. And I think that's why I want to do nothing.

I'm tired. Really fucking tired.

I'm constantly sick from work stress and not being able to take time off.
I'm constantly sick from throwing up (this only happens weekly if that YAY!).
I'm constantly thinking, doing or acting on my two addictions (bulimia and alcoholism for you new kids).

I go to work, go to treatment, go to the gym, go to AA.
There's no time for me, whoever this person I'm becoming is doesn't get much time to herself.

I'm so exhausted by the end of the day or week I don't WANT to be social.
Sitting watching Girls and falling asleep early is much more appealing to me than going out into the terrifying world of my social life. So that's what I've been doing.

Something needs to change. I want recovery, but my steps to recovery is making my recovery suffer.

I'm going to once again ask my therapist to have my dinner group be on Wednesdays  (when I'm already there for nutrition and therapy). This way I'd have at least Tuesday and Thursday off during the week.

I don't want to point the blame in the wrong place though. I mean it's like a catch-22. I need to recover so I don't keep using behaviors to relax when I finally get a second. But I need to have more me time in order to be able to take time for myself which means less time dedicated to going to treatment or AA.

I'm at this crossroads right now.

I see where I can make recovery / non disordered choices and I see / hear when Ed is talking.
However no matter which option I choose I'm still pissing one or the other off.

Yesterday was day two of not working out in a row. BIG NO for Ed.
He was making me obsess over my pants and how tight they felt.
He was trying to convince me to not eat lunch.
He was trying to get me to go workout during work when I really should well be working.

BUT I was craving something sweet so I got zucchini bread. Yum.
I ate it. All of it. And I enjoyed it.

Then Ed was trying to make me go get more so I could throw up.
Then he changed his mind and told me just to not eat dinner.
Then he thought cancelling on group to go workout would be ok.
Then he thought about just eating green beans for dinner.

And all of this crazy, repetitive, nonstop thoughts made me so anxious and uncomfortable that I wish I hadn't eaten the damn bread. I realized that I don't go out on a limb or against Ed because of how loud he gets. It's just easier to follow his rules because then he leaves me alone for a bit.

However, what I ended up doing was praying for him to leave me alone, going to group, and eating everything on my meal plan. It was so fucking hard but I did it.

Luckily at group there was a speaker that talked about how hard this truly is. She talked about knowing those feelings of being out of control and anger and how you just have to sit through them. And that's what I did yesterday. It won't always be uncomfortable but it just royally sucks right now while it is.

Every time I keep defying him and pushing forward the stronger I get.

If it weren't for Ed I wouldn't need insurance and could have sought other job opportunities months ago. Just another example of everything he's taken from me. And I'm so sick of it.

So basically I'm fighting with him...and I'm a scrappy mean bitch when you really piss me off.