Thursday, July 24, 2014

Battle Cry - Angel Haze

Lately I have been feeling like no one sees me.
Like my disease does not matter.
Like people forget I have it at all.
And it's a secret again.
My insurance cut out and I'm on my own now.
And it's harder than I'd like it to be.
But I'm ok I guess.
Or am I?

I don't feel as recovery focused. As in control. As productive as I was when I was in program. I feel like I'm falling.

I miss therapy. I miss my dietitian. I miss my group.
Mostly I miss people that understand.
I guess that's where some of the empty hollowness comes from when I sit alone too long.
Because I feel I have no one to turn to anymore.
My support system's lives never revolved around me in the first place but now their lives have gotten even busier and more complicated.

And even if I did reach out what would I say? What would I need from them? Half of the time I don't know.

But as I'm writing right now I know I would say that I'm scared of ED coming back. As I binge and purge about once a week now. And before I had a month without behaviors. I am no where near what I used to be but it's happening more than I want it to. I still drink more than I wish I did. I'm afraid I'm going to become reliant on it. I'm still scared to eat some foods. I still have major PTSD with sexual abuse. I have lost a significant amount of weight and need to gain it back but am petrified to do so. I keep most this to myself (or dump it on my amazing boyfriend but there's only so much he can handle) because I feel like such a burden. Like my time is over. I am done having the attention. I am no longer eating disorder treatment girl. Fix yourself.

And as I reread this I know that I'm in the part of recovery where I validate my own feelings, I become my own therapist etc and I have to advocate myself. And while this is a cowardly attempt at doing so instead of going to you people individually it's a start.

But it's ironic that all of THAT came out because I was actually feeling seen by someone. My brother.
He sent me Battle Cry - Angel Haze. And I have not stopped crying through this post or the 4 times I listened to the song and read the lyrics. 

You said it girl.

Sunday, July 20, 2014

Acceptance, Acting As If and Other Advice I Should Take

Oh life.
You just are so fucking funny right now.
I see you with your sarcasm.
When I’m finally situated to write on the Bolt Bus—shoes off, one leg mashed up against the seat the other one on the ground for stability since my seat apparently doesn’t need to be bolted to the floor.  I’m hunched over like The Grinch attempting to type with my laptop sitting on the empty seat next to me as my purse and denim jacket act as an efficiently failing desk.
I’ve had to switch positions twice since the girl across from me in the aisle decided to make out with her fork instead of use it to eat her salad with it. I wish I wasn’t so sensitive to weird fucking people.
All I want to do is go home in peace.
But that’s hard to do when you’re on a public bus with Chatty Charlie who has a voice for a children’s television show and an opinion reserved for The View.
I’ve got I Mean It, G-Eazy and Remo on repeat in my headphones while I type this so if “fuck” and “bitch” slip out more than often—so every four words—you’ve had your warning.
I try so hard to ignore the world when I’m in a mood like this—lack of wanting to be a  decent human being mood—and it seems that the world doesn’t want to be ignored.
I made fun of the girl sitting diagonal from me before boarding the bus. Her Lana Del Rey headband was asking for it. Of course she would be across from me and she would fucking give me the most genuine smile when we hear Chatty Charlie snort at his own joke.
I would ignore the ‘pushy’ bus driver who was only trying to put my bag away for me and then so kindly greets me when I get on his bus.
I would make fun of fucking Chatty only to see him give up his single seat so a couple can sit together.
And who knows what lesson Fork Girl could teach me if I didn’t have my back to her. Sans salad of course.
Continuously The Universe and my Higher Power teach me lessons, give me guidance and I still have an insanely hard time giving up my illusion of control.
My list making, my “what if, and then” fantasies, my manipulating.
I’m going through a really big change in my life.
I’m relocating from Seattle to Portland to take that next step with my boyfriend.
That means new city. New job. New lifestyle. New friends—no friends at first.
I have no idea where we are going to live.
I have no idea where I’m going to work.
I have no idea what kind of money I’m going to make.
I have no idea what living with a significant other looks like.
And I’m still fresh in recovery. Like Bambi fresh.
This is all so new to me and it’s so exciting, so romantic, so right—and yet fucking frightening.
I have stayed up til 1 AM way too many times already Google mapping where a gym is in comparison to a grocery store in comparison to a bus stop then trying to find apartment complexes that are within our estimated price range. Only to come up empty handed and feeling more frantic than ever. Zoom out repeat.
So I try job searching and I’m pushing my resume and I’m suddenly the best receptionist ever. Ya I love the service industry. Yes I love cold calling. Yes I like suits. Of course I’ll work overtime. WHAT?!
Then I’m living in the city. No I’m traveling an hour to my nonexistent work via the bus. No I’m in the suburbs. There’s a Target. Ok cool yes I can do that.
There are too many what ifs? Then this? Or then that. It’s a web of confusion and I’m stuck.
And of course I’m talking to my man about this (hahaha I never say my man but I just wanted to) and we’ve come to the conclusion to slow the fuck down and take it one thing at a time.
BUT IT SO DAMN HARD. I want the answer and I want it now. I want to know and I want to feel safe. I want to feel secure. I want everything to be ok.

And yet I have little examples every day that show me that it WILL be ok. AND I STILL FREAK OUT.
However, by the fact that I’m in recovery, I’m alive and I have a great life The Universe keeps proving to me that everything will be ok even though I do not see how or what that looks like just yet.
So some tips that help me with this and might help you if you are crazy like me:

-Act as if. So say you totally want to keep checking your ex’s facebook but you know you shouldn't but you so want to one last time (not like last time’s last time but this last time)—just act as if you are that new person you want to be and don’t do it.

-Repeat: “Resistance is suffering.” – So say it. “Resistance is suffering.” When you resist a situation, how a person is acting etc. it doesn’t change said thing. It just makes it harder on you. So Chatty Charlie—who is still going strong an hour and twenty minutes in—is still going to talk and I can be passive and glare and blow out my eardrums or I can say he’s fucking annoying but he’s not going to stop. I appreciate the conversation he’s having with the person next to him. Him talking doesn’t mean I can’t listen to my music or I cannot write.

-One Day—or thing—At a Time. – There’s a reason this is so popular in AA and other anonymous programs because it fucking works. When you look at your day and you see all the shit you have to do you probably want to crawl in bed. However, if you just see that you have to just get to work then do the next right indicated step when you get there it’s not as daunting. So I should listen to myself. I need to see if they are going to take unemployment away from me—then we’ll go from there. I cannot and will not pick my job, apartment, budget and fucking welcome mat tomorrow. I will stay in the present moment and focus on that and only that because that’s all I can do, all I want to do and honestly all I need to do.

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

Shoulders Suffocated.

The bellow is me exploring my feelings about my body and what it means to have one in our society.
About being made to feel like a sex object everywhere I go.
Feeling like it's not ok to take my sweater off when it's hot out because of what I am then subjected to.
How I've been made to feel it's my fault that I get hollered at...or worse.
How it's my duty to put up with cat calls because I have a decent body. And it's my fault that men react to me.
I realize more and more that as years of unwanted advances from men pile up the more I want to hide my style and my body. It isn't fair. It isn't right. And it isn't my fault. And most importantly I shouldn't have guilt or be ashamed.

I have just started to see how fucked up society's messages to men and women are about men and women. And self worth. And self esteem. And more. I really need to do more reading and thinking to develop a solid opinion on this but this video and blog post began to help me believe it's not me that's in the wrong.

Stop Telling Women to Smile and An Open Letter to My Daughter: Your Modesty Is Your Choice.

sunny sidewalk
uncomfortably hot
smooth knees
unknowingly alluring neckline
shoulders suffocated
breath abated
music bumps
windows rolled down
suggestive slang
coil back at the vulgarity
leave me be
life changed
never ok
sex object
my being is no longer mine

self medicated
doctor's out
head hangs with the weight of it all
knowledge, shame, undeserved guilt
eyes averted
no one look
but someone see my pain

a chuckle
manly grunts
I see them seeing me
naked, vulnerable
I pull my clothes tighter
weights slam
echos reverberate my body
they get trapped inside my head
relentless is the panic
muscles tighten
my vision goes
my heart races
I see only shapes
are they approaching me
fight or flight
flight flight flight

Thursday, July 3, 2014

Merry Krismas To Me : Seven Months Later

I wrote this post about seven months ago.
And it breaks my heart because I remember that girl.
So desperately wanting to be free.
Wanting a holiday without addiction, disease, turmoil and torture.
I tried. I know I did my best.
And my best got me about three days in a row. Which bless me, was amazing.
I hated my parents. I never saw how we could ever exist in the same room together.
It wasn't possible. Not with me, my disease and them--it was too crowded.

I was at ground zero then.

Days later I had plans with my parents to go shopping at the Seahawks team store. I would get a new hat. We would go on The Seattle Great Wheel. I would have the happy Christmas I dreamed of each year.

That never happened.

I was confined to my bed because I could not stop throwing up. I was a slave to my disease. I had binged and purged for meals and days straight. Like a zombie I went to the store just a block from my house, spent hundreds on food, ate as much as I could and got rid of it. And then did it again. Slept. Repeat.

But then my body began to shut down. I had no sense of time of day, hunger, self.

I remember lifting the chips to my mouth and so desperately not wanting to. Wishing with all of my might that I could just stop. Leaning over the fridge in my puke-splattered sweats, oily hair, shaking not wanting anything in there and seeing my hands reach for something new.

I could not stop.
Until my body did stop.

My body said I can't do this anymore the day we were supposed to have Krismas in Seattle.

I remember so vividly opening the door for my parents. All of my energy was drained. I didn't even try to hide the dishes, the wrappers, the food or my ghostly appearance.

My mom covered her mouth when she saw me. Shock of what her daughter had become. My dad put down the coupons Mom had cut for me back home. I wouldn't be needing those.

The fear in my parents' eyes is indescribable. The shame I felt was overridden by exhaustion. I felt as though I was done. I hadn't actually eaten in days and my stomach was eroded by acid.

My parents stayed with me for hours.

My dad brought me Diet Sprite at my request (which really doesn't help anything but ED was still so loud as I lay there lifeless). I don't remember their time there as hours. It's a blur. There were crackers and broth. And there was my mom.

I had let them down. I was so scared. How did I get here again? Where did I go?

As I write this I remember how dark my room was, how sick I felt, how ashamed I was.
And by the grace of the universe I began to keep food down.
And my parents finally had to leave.

My mom said she thought I wasn't going to wake up.

Once again I had, my disease had, ruined another family event.

Days later my friends had an intervention with me and I wrote these words in my blog on Christmas Eve:

"I'm looking forward to working my ass off to get a better life. One where these thoughts aren't constantly breaking up my day.

I'm looking forward to a life where going to work won't be a struggle. And I will have enough nutrition in my body to stay focused and not forget things.

I'm looking forward to WANTING to eat which currently I don't have. It's all or nothing at the moment.

I'm looking forward to wanting to cook.

I'm looking forward to a new life. The life I was always meant to have.

Merry Krismas kids."

And I write to you now sobbing and snotting and with total fucking pride that what I wanted and what I looked forward to is exactly what I'm doing.

And recovery is more than wanting to eat, and quieted thoughts.

It's wanting to live. It's wanting to be me. It's having the clarity to carry on a conversation. It's being honest. It's being able to breathe. It's having the peace of mind to think of others. To live in the moment. To remember. To show up for people. To live.

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

It's Clear Now.

Today I learned that a girl I spent my junior high, high school and some time in college with took her life.

We have the same name, spelled the same way.
There's a funny bond with that.
Something you can default to when there's nothing else to laugh about.
But that's not all we had.
We had hours of soccer together and school, but not in the way that we were good friends more like good acquaintances. But it's those short interactions I had during those years that matter. Those minutes and moments that I did have with her are so clear in my mind because she was always seemingly herself.

I remember being rather resistant to her because of her strong personality. Her confidence. Not sure what to make of this light in my junior high and early high school days.

When I think of her now I see her bright blue eyes and hear her laugh clearly. I see her tenacity on the field. And then come the foggy random memories at parties and in the dorms.

But then there are the ones more recently when I wasn't so insecure and when I was in recovery. When I could appreciate her for who she was, not envy but admire and be inspired by her.

And now I am so sad and heartbroken over what the world has lost, and I barely even got to know her.

I remember us talking about her backpacking exploits and marveling at her dreads and how she was living--she was doing IT. Just going and doing and being. And she still had that smile and that laugh.

She didn't talk to me long last time I saw her, I feel like she was always so busy and social. But it was enough for me to see HER.

I want to be like that some day. To stand with someone briefly and when I leave leave a presence of me. Have my self awareness, my confidence and aura just radiate from me without doing anything but just being.

During times like these there are a lot of emotions and one that I'm feeling strongly is a sense of direction. Of calm.

Life now seems more simple.
And clear.

What I thought mattered doesn't as much.
What I thought was confusing, and hard is now curious and beautiful.
My struggles are now my strengths.

I Fucked Up. Plus Some Other Stuff.

I want to talk about doing things for the right reasons and values. And good shit like that.

I am going to write a little revision to my last post not because I want him to like me, or to stop people from having ill feelings towards him (because honestly he is wonderful and has made me happier than anyone I've ever been with) but because I truly feel that what I wrote yesterday didn't align with my values.

Which are:

I have written like 23 versions of this because I'm fighting between wanting to please my ex and have sensational readings and make myself sound cool (like I ever actually do that). So I'm finally fucking doing it. I'm just going to write with my authentic, self-respecting self:

Yesterday I meant what I was writing.
I was hurt and I was lonely and I was confused.
But I let my impulsiveness take over.
I wanted to hurt back, I didn't see it in that way at the time, but I do now.
I didn't even think beyond myself and that my ex has friends that could read this too.
Yesterday's post was just a piece of what we are going through.
I've made some very big mistakes as you can read in my previous posts and my ex was reacting to my actions in a way that I think most people would.
I feel terrible about losing my balance of authenticity and respect and acceptance but I'm learning.
I am learning to have boundaries as a form of learning to respect myself and others.
((that's a lot of learning))
And writing this is one way I feel I can build that up for myself and for my relationship however that ends up looking.

I think it takes guts to admit you made a mistake but it takes real courage to change your ways and that's really what I'm trying to do--or well doing.

I have been unsettled with how I can't seem to stand on my own two feet after all of this back and forth in my relationship.

How do you be independent while being in a relationship? I do not fucking know.
So I read an article.

And here's the highlights:

  • Find hobbies and what makes you happy separate from the relationship and do them.
  • Be able to say "no" when you authentically do not  want to do something without inflicting hurt feelings or guilt.
  • There is no need to pour your heart out to them all of the time.
  • Space is great. If you go a day without talking, texting, Skyping, seeing them that's ok. Distance makes the heart grow fonder.
  • Your needs, approval and feelings come before theirs. (mind blown)
  • Try to figure out your dreams and when you do strive for them, put them before the relationship. You honey bunny will follow suit if they are truly for you.
  • Be yourself and love yourself for it, let them be them and love em for it.
This actually perfectly aligns with my values:
  • Acceptance: who I am, who he is, where I'm at (in any given situation, feeling etc)
  • Authenticity: listen to my heart, my dreams, be true to myself
  • Balance: he time, me time, we time
  • Connection: with myself and take that extra second to really see what's going on within me
  • Respect: my feelings, my needs, wants and stand up for myself (because in my head I really don't do that)
  • Gratitude: for who I am and who I'm becoming
Ready, set--LIFE CHANGE!

Monday, June 23, 2014

I Got Dumped. Again.

So I'm really feeling the whole poor me vibe right now.
Just fucking grooving on it.

Everything was clear and happy and fine when I got dumped last night (truly it was).
And then it slowly started to sink in and from midnight until now I feel like butt.
Lame, lost, lonely.

It makes sense that we aren't together. He was a dick and I was anxious all the time.
You can't force chemistry and trust and love.

I so truly believed that we were meant to be together that I didn't want to give up. That life without him didn't make sense. I did what I saw in the movies and read about in books, I just kept fighting. And in the end it wasn't the answer. I was wrong. I failed.

That's one thing that's bothering me. What I did, and what I put my heart into failed, like horribly. I'm trying to not feel stupid for trying because I thought that's what you were supposed to do when you loved someone. I had never been in love before. I didn't know what to do when I lost it. But in my heart I knew something was I'm also mad I didn't listen to myself.

Lesson learned out of that one. Doesn't make the shame go away.

The other is how fucking fine he is without me.

It's like night and day.

Before I was contacting him, being sweet, trying to get a laugh, trying to find him again, get something--anything with no real response. It was like talking to a stranger. I took so much risk and put so much heart into everything these past two weeks to try to get him back and I was so strongly rejected. And now when he's done with me he's fucking fantastic.


I don't like feeling this whipped. Or is that just my pride getting in the way of the universe helping me work this out so seamlessly?

I mean I'm going to feel what I'm going to feel regardless of how I look at the situation, but it matters how I act on the situation. And honestly I haven't left my house all day because currently I'm scared to face the world. And I don't like that.

I mean where's my pride kick? And my I did this for me? It's not here. I got dumped. I'm not walking away I'm laying on the ground. And it's even more confusing because what we are doing now is actually working (well minus this strong aversion to how everything is happening that I'm having).

The guy I first had a crush on is back, he's funny, he's kind, he's actually fucking talking to me. And I feel like I can be myself around him again. And I'm hoping that we organically grow back together as we grow a part as people.

So I should be fucking happy but I feel like shit. I feel rejected. I feel less than. I feel lonely.

Last thing, man this is long, and most important thing I realized this morning while journaling is that this reminds me of my very lonely childhood-teen years.

After I was sexually abused things changed drastically for me. There was no more trust, no more love, I was alone. That's when the kids started to be mean in school. I didn't have many friends. And that's how confused and twisted and desperate my life was until I figured out that boyfriends could fill that void and they have ever since.

Now I'm in recovery and I don't know what being single and healthy looks like. And while I want it to be exciting and I want to have this passion for life and this drive to figure out who I am I also am just really demoralized, scared and sad.