Friday, January 16, 2015

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?

Wednesday, January 14, 2015

I Am Homesick

As soon as I type those words my throat tightens, my nose stings and my eyes water.
I'm finally letting it out after pushing it down all day.
I woke up at 5 AM having dreams of the city in my mind. It was so real I thought I was in my old apartment. And when I realized I wasn't I woke up with fear. I closed my eyes again picturing 1st coming from Pioneer Square heading to Pike Place. I see the wet street, the buildings built with brick that I adore, I know where the streets turn into hills, I know how to best get to the water, I know that I do not know what adventure I'd find at Pike Place. I feel joy in my heart. I feel excited. I feel at home.
I then take myself to my old neighborhood. Passing those familiar strangers. The gays, the drag queens, the crazies and my friends. I smell the coffee shop next to the record store. I see Trendy Wendys and her glittering bras. I smell Dicks. The streets are buzzing and everyone has to be somewhere, do something, be someone and yet I feel comfortable with them.
I go next to my bed. I see the wide window that on looks a gorgeous tree filled with blooms. I feel my legs stretch out under the covers of my bed and my canopy whimsically, playfully hanging over me--my princess dreams come true 20 years later. My cat is at the window and the rain falls lightly.
The alarm goes off--not a real one but one just as violent and unwelcome as mine in the morning--I realize I am not home. That home will never be home again. I cannot go back there and live and have and do what I did before I left. And my God I miss it.
I have hesitated to write so openly for fear of hurting others feelings or because you will think I am not trying, that I am selfish, that I am ungrateful but what about what I feel? Not all days are as bad as this but there was a hole in my heart today, there was an emptiness that couldn't be filled.
I think of my home now, there are no busy streets. There are no familiar strangers. There are no drag queens. It is cold. It is bare. It is isolating.
I thought this move through. I weighed the pros and cons but I could not know what this move would do, or evoke or fucking be like until I did it.
I have not known loneliness like this. I have a wonderful, supportive, weirdly wonderful group of friends that feel so far away. I see their lives go on without me and yes it is 'just a bus ride away' but it feels like a universe away. I feel like I will be forgotten, I feel like my life is going away, diminsihing slowly with each passing day and I have nothing to replace it with.
And yes it is my job to build a new one here but it is hard. And I've done hard things in my life and I am not one to back down but I need an outlet.
I feel so much more alone because well physically I am. I do not have girls nights here. I do not have random coffee dates. I do not have familiar strangers. I don't know the grocery stores or how my gym is set up and I can't really tell you where I live. It is unfamiliar and it is uncomfortable.
I realized when asked "how are you?" that I jump at the opportunity to unleash all that I feel I must keep in / have to keep in as there is no one here to talk to. I see myself talking to friends back home holding back the pain I have some days and following it up with "but I'll be ok." "it just takes time." Completely under minding my feelings that are fucking valid. But I am too scared to just unleash and complain and cry and say it sucks and I don't want it to be this sucky anymore. I am afraid it will push those who are so far way from me further.
And this isnt' to say that it's all bad here because I've met some really great people that seem to like me too. I have a wonderful boyfriend and we're navigating how to live together. And I have a sick ass job.
See? I feel as though it's not ok to unleash and say what I feel for fear of being pushed away even by you 'anonymous' readers.
I guess what I'm getting at is that well yes I'm homesick. I miss my friends. I miss my city. But I'm also getting at the fact that it's fucked that in our world / in my world I don't feel like I can be this open and honest about anything for fear of being judged by others or by myself. Oh and that moving is hard. It's fucking hard and props to all of you who have done it. It's a goal of mine to continue to journal / blog so you'll see more of this and these and things. If you all have shit going on write me or journal. Just get a pen and paper and try it.

Monday, December 29, 2014

SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP

As I sit here in my new skinny, high-waist jeans I hear the words "you cut out this food and then that and I'm going to sign up for a marathon." And my pants get tighter and my anxiety higher.

I just barely am ok with letting go this holiday. Maybe because I'm writing I'm actually not ok with it. Ya actually my ED (I'm really trying to separate the disease from me and my thoughts) is so fucking pissed at the idea that I did what I did and I can't do anything about it now. The damage is done. And I am sitting here uncomfortably with the consequences. I want to rip myself apart verbally and physically. How could I live under this illusion that I would be ok with eating seconds? Butter on everything? Having a drink every night? Idiot. Now look what you've done. You've stepped out of line and now you'll pay for defying me.

Recovery and the work I'm doing never stops--or well it shouldn't if I want to make progress. Yes I had more than two cookies a day and yes I didn't work out once and yes I sat with the thoughts and the uncomfortability for the last week of it all thinking I was somehow pushing forward in my recovery but I feel like the biggest fucking failure now. I want so badly to workout non-stop, to cut calories to show all of you people that talk of diets and exercise how it's really done. But if I let up now and give in I'll only let it win and have gone through all of that for no reason.

God I wish none of this fucking mattered. But it does. It feels like it really fucking does.

All of this anger and hate comes from me overhearing a conversation. My simple morning turned upside down.

I am frustrated that life is like this for me. That I am not further in recovery. And I am also just fucking bitter that I'm so uncomfortable all the time. Before I was with therapists to talk to, dietitians, girls and guys just like me that understood. Now I am seemingly alone. Stuck in my head and these fucking jeans and this environment that's full of people throwing out their regrets, calorie counts, diets and distorted view of the word healthy.

Sometimes I believe I am not the one with a problem but the rest of you are. The way you define healthy, the way 'cleansing' is seen as healthy even though it's essentially anorexia, how you post photoshopped pictures of models on your pintrest to push yourself further in your workout and publicly shame yourself for eating too much food. AND I'M THE ONE WITH A PROBLEM? I'm just trying to get my five grains a day and workout to relieve stress. But nothing around me supports this idea of moderation, enjoyment and pride in our bodies for the way they are.

I'm so fucking sick of having to work so hard to try to be normal in a world that doesn't know what normal is.

I usually like to end on a positive note. To end concisely. But I'm going to leave this open and uncomfortable. I'm going to sit with my anger and feel it.  Because as much as I fucking hate it it's ok to be uncomfortable.

Monday, December 22, 2014

I Don't Know What To Title This

I haven't written in a while.
I have wanted to and haven't.
I've been afraid of what I would say and even worse afraid of what I couldn't say, because I don't have the words.
Having to face the fact that I don't know what I'm doing here. That I don't know what I'm feeling or how to fix it.
Well I know what I initially feel--anger.
It strikes up out of nowhere lashing out at those closest to me.
There aren't many people here that are close to me, so one person keeps taking a beating.
I stand outside myself watching it all happen. Wishing I wasn't, wishing I wouldn't.
Yet it feels so good at first, like I have power. The surge of energy engulfs me--now we're getting somewhere.
But then I slowly come down and come to and hear what I'm saying. Talking just to talk. Just to try to figure out why I started yelling in the first place.
Shame overwhelms me.
I've done it again.
I'm the problem, I'm the one who likes to fight.
What is wrong with me?

Nothing is wrong with me. I left a full life behind for a new one but I don't know what to do with this new life. I can't even put it into words which is ironic that I'm writing. I haven't fully accepted the fact that this suburban ____ place is my home. That I am not going back. That I need to start building something for myself here.

I resent that it's all up to me to make my life a life again. I want something to come easy as I feel I've struggled so much in my life but then a mean voice comes into my head telling me I wanted this. I just didn't know it'd be like this. I can't even connect with myself or my feelings anymore. Like I said I just feel anger. I don't even know where it comes from it just is sparked by anything.

It's protecting whatever I'm feeling underneath. And I haven't let myself feel what's underneath unless it's the end of drunken night or a blow up like tonight. And when I feel I feel lost, I feel confused and I feel helpless.

I don't like feeling this way, and I'm not sure what to do. Other than to DO.

So I'm going to work on balancing my life out as mostly what I do is work and home and clean my God I clean everything. Oh and try to decide if I'm going to give into my ED or not. It's a miserable sad little life and I am none of those things.

I am the kind of person that puts themselves through treatment twice. I am the kind of person that remembers your birthday and tries to get you a thoughtful present. I am the kind of person you can count on. I am the one that will say what's on everyone else's minds but is too afraid to. I'm a self starter. I'm passionate. I'm witty. And so many other things.

But I'm not one to sit down and have life go past me.

Haha there's a little rant for you.

Sometimes I don't know why I write these and I always want a moral and have it sum up nicely but I got nothing.

I am just sick of the way my life is going and I'm going to do something about it.

Tuesday, December 2, 2014

RIP Natalie Jane

I got the call around 3 today.
It was a headhunter.
Oh I can't wait to tell them I have a sick ass job I thought, that'll shock em.

But actually, it was me who was shocked.

They were calling to tell me that our mutual friend had passed away on Friday night, with complications from depression. She wanted to make sure I knew.

Awkward, sad, lighthearted conversation followed with plans for a memorial. And we hung up.

I went through the movements. Grabbed my coat, my phone, my key card, made polite small talk with a co worker and left the office. I burst into tears not even sure if I had really thought through what was going on. Not feeling genuine. Feeling impulsive.

I encountered every interaction I had with her to my boyfriend. Telling him about her curly hair she had shaved off recently. Her kindness towards me at work. The goodbye post-it she was forced to leave me two years ago as the company didn't tell her it was her last day until it was her last day.

I didn't feel better. I didn't feel calm. I didn't feel how I felt I was supposed to.

I called everyone I trusted to talk to about this and no one was answering, as I walked through the cemetery next to my office.

I expected I was supposed to be alone with my feelings, with the uncomfortability of not having them, not knowing them. And as I walked past the graves and I felt the cold sting my nose and blinked the sun out of my eyes and I gave myself permission to feel uncomfortable.

I thought of her. Not just what I wanted to remember but what I remembered. I remembered thinking when I first met her how she was kind of dull, her crazy curls should have been straightened and I bet I was a better writer than her.

And then one day she came out of no where with a kind of kindness, a light and a vibe that was overwhelmingly warm, comforting. My hardness cracked and I met Natalie.


We did the standard new acquaintance thing.  We liked each other's statuses and instagram photos.

We ran into each other in the bus tunnel. Once again me attempting to avoid what could be an awkward conversation and her jumping right in with a huge smile and now short, straight hair. Five minutes later me racing to catch my bus as I had almost missed it I was so into the conversation. Feeling warm inside, feeling just calm, confident, happy.

One day when I was in treatment she wrote me about this blog. And she sympathized. She made me feel less alone. We talked and traded stories.

Later, she invited me to her church and out to eat. She accepted me, as I was. She understood.

I read over our messages and I almost bailed on her because I had binged and purged the night before and felt awful. Now my heart pings with shame. But I went and I remember I didn't like church but I liked the food, I liked the company and we met again at some point.

I feel like I have talked to her since and kept up with her on social media but that's not really 'keeping up' with someone. I didn't know she was hurting. She reached out to me when I was in a time of need, and while I'm not saying I could have prevented this...I want to say something along the lines of how important I believe being authentic and transparent is.

Acceptance and authenticity are values of mine, they are why I write. It is why I will be honest to your face about whatever I'm going through. It is why I want you to message me, comment, talk to me. If it weren't for her reaching out that one day after reading my blog I might have never gotten to know her. I might not have learned my lesson to not judge a book by its cover. I might not have learned how far a nice conversation can go.

I can't really get profound or give advice because I don't understand life or how this works but I do know that it's hard. Life is hard. It is not what is put out there for all of us to see from movies, tv ads, pintrest and facebook statuses. Life is difficult. It's wonderful and not all bad but it frustrates me and motivates me to write even more because I don't believe what we really go through is talked about or out there.

So I will keep being honest with you all. I will tell you how fucking lonely I am here. How I went inside my shell yesterday and didn't talk to anyone and I was miserable. And then today I said fuck it and tried to make friends and it sort of worked. That I left my headphones at home and that sucked. That I avoided all eye contact with my boss today our of fear that he saw my typo in my email and I would be judged. That I'm wearing all Christmas stuff minus my yoga pants that I did weird squats in to stretch them out for like a minute. That I forgot to text a friend back for a full day who asked for my help. That I wear the same outfit when I get home every night. And I totally took tissues from work.

I will basically try to be as me as possible in here so hopefully you can relate, feel more comfortable with what's going on in your head and feel like you have an outlet for it.

She gave me an outlet and hope and I will not forget that. I will miss her happiness posts on Facebook and the gazillion pictures of her dogs, I will probably unwillingly look for her every time I am in Westlake's tunnel and as I pass Microsoft. But mostly I will think of her when I choose to act on the lessons she unknowingly taught me.

RIP Natalie. You are missed but not forgotten.

Wednesday, November 26, 2014

Homesick.

Wrote while listening to : Jon Bellion, Audra Mae Luxury

describe the indescribable
make sense of this confusion
dry wet eyes
reach out to no one
empty room, it's just me
oh the irony
everyone gone to familiarity
I'm what's left behind
oh, oh what I left behind
distant
my feelings, disconnected
oil and water
these roads have already become repetitive
but I miss the routine
what are you doing?
life goes on without me
don't break
singular
now I've known pain
and I've felt out of place
never knew loneliness like this

Monday, November 24, 2014

Pre Thanksgiving Post

Man all it takes is a good song, some nostalgia and a blank page on here and I'm waterworks.

This season is about different things for different people. Or I should say a lot of things.

There's the reflective part, the thankful part, the stressed the fuck out part, the Black Friday deals part, the family part (might go into the stressed the fuck out part sometimes), the food part and the diet part.

I can't remember a time when I would eat without some kind of emotion attached. As young as 10 I remember the surge of excitement over eating certain kinds of food in large amounts. And I don't remember a Thanksgiving where I haven't thrown up or under eaten. And this isn't dramatic, it's the truth.

When this time of year comes around and as my progression into recovery grows it's interesting to see my reaction to the thought of Thanksgiving dinner.

I will be hosting it along with my boyfriend. We will have 7 other people in our one bedroom apartment. And a shit ton of food.

This could go many ways. I used to start out very determined to make Thanksgiving "ok" to eat. I would workout harder all week and not eat a thing the day of going to the gym before. I would beg my mom to make everything low-fat, low-carb, calorie free please? She never would--and I don't blame her now. I would put as many veggies as I could on my plate to cover up that I was skimping on dinner. Then shamefully sneaking seconds while pretending to clean up the kitchen. Or I would eat. I would eat and eat and eat. And then I would purge.

Two Thanksgivings ago my mom caught me and screamed through the door. I was ruining Thanksgiving.

And as much as I never wanted to do those things, they always seemed to happen. I would get caught up, confused.

But this year I'm working so hard to make it different. I believe I didn't binge or purge last year and I would be so thankful and fucking proud if I didn't do it again. Just the thought of trying to do that with 8 other people in my house is just awful--and of course doing it in the first place is just terrible.

Starting down the recovery path I have chosen to blog instead of go to the gym tonight. I'm addressing my fears. I'm making a plan. I am ignoring what my ED and all you people (not really ALL of you) keep saying.

My coworkers and facebook friends don't know how much a words like "diet, fat, healthy" set me on a tailspin. I am much better but certain times make this harder for me. I hear people in passing talking about how they are going on diets before the holiday just so they can eat more. Wait what? Treatment told me that was bad. I see signs in the gym telling me to come work off the weight after Thanksgiving as though eating a larger meal once isn't ok.

I guess what I'm getting at and what I need for myself, because well sometimes I feel like this blog should be called By Me For Me, is reassurance that I'm doing the right thing. That this is ok. I don't feel very in control or safe not being able to know I won't gain any weight from turkey day.

Hearing all these diet tips tricks and comments constantly around the holidays confuses me. I only worked out for a half an hour today and coming off a weekend of not really eating on a meal plan rather when I was hungry makes me feel very unsafe. Like I can't do that without making up for it later. But instead I'm taking care of myself in other ways, by writing, listening to Zeds Dead, playing with the cat and eating.

I want to reiterate how hard this holiday is for those with eating disorders because of all the stigmas around food and "health" in this diet focused culture AND the stresses of being with family or friends probably triggers a lot of emotions / memories / stresses (just like in a 'normal' human). All of this combined is a very hard place to be with an ED, in recovery or not.

So I'm doing my best to not trigger my ED too bad while listening to a healthy voice. I will workout normally this week, I will eat all my meals and I will eat a Thanksgiving dinner according to my meal plan. And I'm going to check in with you guys about it. So there's the accountability piece that always gets me.

This time of year is about memories and what I want more than anything is to have good memories this holiday.