Weary~

Visited with my lovely friend this morning and saw the concern in her eyes. Felt the tears tingling the back of my own throat. I feel the emptiness. The aching. The intense longing and suffering. I come to realize just how weary and drained I am. This shell that I have become. Only taking. Never giving. This lifeless zombie. Sucking the spirit out of life. Trying desperately to cling to something while falling off this cliff. Not slipping. Flying down it with intense velocity.Screaming. Kicking. Poison. Dripping down my throat, clinging to every fiber of my structure. Tainting everything I touch. In everything I do. Addicted. I want to stop. I really do. I see your face, read your heart. Hear the words. I wish I could do it for you. But alas, I am forever trapped in this vicious self-sabotaging escapade. And I realize just how truly tangled up I am. I hate this body. I hate the monster I see in the mirror. I want to feel anything good. Let the warmth seep into my lifeless, cold veins. Purple. Black and blue. Black. White. Where is the gray? Where is the middle ground between death and life? Recovery? It seems impossible. This feat feels too great to take on. My back is breaking from the weight of it all. The lifeless, weightless burden I carry. This monkey on my back. Strangling me. Gagging me. GET OFF. Get away from me Satan. I want rest. Peace. Quiet. Life. So weary.

New beginnings??? QUESTION MARK

I just got the mail. Inside was a large envelope from Palouse Properties. I just about wet myself.
It brought up such a feeling of dread/anticipation/fear/excitement/I WANT TO THROW UP!!!!!
Inside this seemingly harmless little envelope is the contract for a lease for an apartment in Moscow. Which means me. going back to Moscow. Living on me own. Paying for bills. Paying for food. :/
Most importantly it means me...taking care of myself. DOING this recovery thing. for reals. :/ I'm terrified.
What if I fail? What if I give up and let ED win? Am I strong enough? Am I ready? Will I ever know?
Prayers appreciated. Cause who knew that such a lil' white envelope could scare the pants right off a meh!
:/ I'm going to blow into a small paper bag now...

Fail~

I feel like the failed anorexic. I feel like I will never be able to starve myself the way others do. Torture myself enough. Be small enough. I feel like all the people I met in rehab are going backwards. Losing weight. Going back into treatment. Walking the thin line of death once again. And I'm actually angry and disgusted with myself. And for the fact that I am at home and...well cant. I eat food. I crave things. I indulge. I feel like a glutton. I feel weak. I feel ashamed and guilty for the fact that I'm not running or purging. I feel ED screaming inside me telling me how out of control I am. What a failure I am. Flesh. Skin. This all feels so wrong.

Thanksgiving....

DUN DUN DUN

Thanksgiving~ Turkey Day~ They day the Pilgrims and Indians celebrated for the bounty the Lord had provided for them. The day people eat themselves into a food coma. The day I watch the Macy's day parade and see the Rockefeller Rockets performing and think...if only I looked like that...instead of the giant turkey float....and then hold an intense grudge on them and their mankind. The ONE day that I kinda wish I could erase from the Holiday Hall of Fame. For those of you who knows me, you know why.

Three years ago on Thanksgiving night, my dad had a heart episode that sent him to the ER on Thanksgiving night until 4 am. Then to open heart surgery he went two months later after the holidays. Two years ago, our neighbor had a heart issue that landed him in the ER and us watching their two boys. Last Thanksgiving, I was so deep into my eating disorder it is embarrassing. I came home from school ragged, ran in feet of snow at 6 am despite a dislocated knee injury I had exacerbated since September, pretended all was fine and then on Thanksgiving night got slightly way MORE than tipsy in front of my dad and brothers after our first thanksgiving without my mom there. I spent the night sitting on the coach regretting how sick I felt and barely remember somehow shoveling off our driveway before slipping into bed and sleeping off all the regret. Only to awake in the morning and begin the vicious cycle again. A long string of scarring Thanksgivings are haunting me to say the least. Holidays are hard for me. Not only because now I am dealing with a broken family and all that entails, but my Eating Disorder likes to rear its ugly head in a big and bad way. For many, the holidays are a time to indulge with no real mental capacity going into it. For me, the voices already in my head telling me what a cow I am scream even louder. Plus, the fiasco's and memories that are associated with this holiday and me are not pleasant.

That is why this year I VOW it will be different. After going to treatment not long after the holidays last year, I am so thankful to be here with my family (regardless of how screwed up we are). I am thankful for all the faithful people I have praying for me-family and friends. This year has been challenging to say the least. OK. It has been excruciating. But it is through the hard times that we grow, through the challenges that we realize, well at least I am not where I was last year at this time. Or better yet, dead. I can barely wrap my head around it. I think I am invincible. Nothing could stop me. Or could it? I shutter to think of the possibility that one thing could have ended it all if it had continued- and that was myself. A slow suicide…

Thanksgiving is tomorrow. Inside I feel the anxiety and torment spinning. However, I want this year to be different. I am different. I have tools. I have the power. ED does not. My ED voice is still loud. Right now I hear it screaming at how lazy I am, how I SHOULD be running at 6am and blah blah blah. But it takes greater strength to do recovery. I could choose the “easy” out. Or I could choose recovery. Choose to turn my back on those voices and use strength to NOT do what I think I should…which turns out is waaaaay harder for me than just following my addiction. Crap.

I am so thankful for a God who forgives me, though I still have not come to forgive myself. For parents who have stood by me, who have watched me falter, yet have given me the time, space, and capacity to get back up and start over. For friends who are always there despite how closed off I allow myself to be. Tomorrow night I will just be thankful if we make it through in one peace. I will try to take the focus off the food. I will be thankful for life.

WANTED: Guidance~

I don’t even know. My mind is going a million hours a minute- I want to scream and cry like a two year old and beat on something with my fists until I bleed. This would result in me 1. Looking like a two year old 2. Looking insane and 3. Looking like an insane two year old. Yikes.

I just got out with my dietitian. Wonderfulness. NOT. Ugh. Food. Weight. Meal plans. I have a head ache and I’m grouchy. It is THEN that my father decides to open up the doors to the future and discuss my plans for heading back to school…sometime…within the next hundred years.  My heart wants to go and be out on my own, to be FREE. Now, freedom is a funny thing. Because every time I gain it, I seem to sabotage myself and use it to ED’s advantage. Keen. My dad opened up with stating that I ultimately obviously decide when I will go back to school, but he FEELS that I am not ready to head back this spring. That I am still dealing with ED crap HARD and need to really think about if I am ready to go back or not. If I would be using it as an “out” or if I could really keep going on with recovery. And the truth is I DON’T FREAKIN KNOW! I can’t even fathom having to stay at home and live here cleaning my brother’s pee off the toilets and scrubbing dishes at work for another year. The thought makes me want to die. What a sad, sad life poor stupid girl who can’t pull your shiz together. I feel stagnant here. Suffocated. Under a microscope. Lonely. Depressed. The thought of being in a little apartment with my friend is so enticing. Like ooooh we would have so much fun. But it is so scary too. What if I fail AGAIN? What if I am not strong enough yet? I don’t want to land right where I was this time last year. But what if I can succeed? Will I ever know? AHHHH I am so confused. So sad. And probably not making any sense. Basically its 1. Go back to school or 2. Live here at home STILL. Black and white right? So life is grey. I KNOW this to be true. So what is the grey answer? There has to be some compromise somewhere? Something I can do that will help me with recovery AND make me happy and feel like I am moving forward with my life. Ugh. I don’t know what to do. Right now I feel like I am standing outside in the snow…everything is spinning and whirling around me. Its foggy and cold and I JUST WANT TO PUNCH THE SNOW IN ITS FACE. Lol. Ok. Sorry. I need words of wisdom from those who are brave enough to read this. My mind and body are screaming for HELP though Im too weak to say it. So I will whisper it and hope for some burning bush, some small glimmer of hope for my blea future~ help

Garage doors...

I can no longer get into a car without having a mini panic attack. When I look at a garage door, a loud CRUNCH noise flows through my head. The traumatic event of me, backing into our garage door several nights ago keeps flashing through my mind. Yep. I backed our truck into the garage door. And no, it was not pretty. There was a HUGE dent protruding out that was visible for all the world to see. There are no words to describe how awful I felt in that moment. Embarrassed. Ashamed. I believe the words, I'm dead flied through my head as I realized I must now tell my father about the lovely accident I had just caused. Just add it to my tab that is currently due to him :/ After treatment, now this. Superb.
So...time to get real. I have always needed something real, something evident, something tangible to convince me of anything- to prove to me something was real. Moses has a burning bush. I just got a dented garage. Weird comparison, I know. But the bush and the garage are parallel in meaning for me. It was a wake up call. A tangible, visible smack in the face from God. Cause lately, its been ED driving this car. Not me. Winter just kind of took the back seat. And I'm really sick of it. I'm sick of this. Its time to get back in the game. Cause I'm not going to lie, I'm not doing so hot on my own right now. I am not following my meal plan. I'm allowing the stress of life to pile up without dealing with it appropriately. Right now I don't trust myself. I sure as heck don't trust my body. Not at all. So what do I turn to? ED. nice one winter..nice one.
I'm embarrassed. I'm ashamed. I'm guilty. So I turn to ED. Its time to re-evaluate what I'm really doing with this thing called life. With recovery. After being confronted by loved ones the last couple of days, I tend to freak out. ED convinces/suggests to me that I can just NOT follow my meal plan and do what I want. So I don't follow my meal plan and restrict and purge by exercising. I try to compensate, which doesn't work because there is no limit to the compensation. It will go until I kill myself. No amount is good enough for me...or for ED.
Lately, God has been TRYING to send me some signs. To get my attention. Hes saying I need to slooooow down and be more present~ The forgetting to check to see if the garage door was open BEFORE backing up is the perfect example of him sayin....uhhhh buddy...I think you need to slow down and give your brain the nutrition it needs. That way you ah...wont be so stuck on food maybe? Eh? Ya! Cause right now your spending waaaaay too much time thinking about it. And who wants to waste their time with that? Ya... you may be unhappy with yourself. Get over yourself. You, your stressed. Work, school, life. Well, don't you have any faith in me? No matter how much you worry, how hard you fight it, you will not be able to change  a thing. Tomorrow will still come.
Your restricting is making you lose focus. Its making you foggy. Your too stuck in your own head. Too busy skimming, comparing, subtracting, and restricting to be fully present. Your attitude sucks. Your cranky. And tense. Anxious. You resemble a brick wall. Life just keeps hitting you. You feel nothing. You are numb. Life is happening around you and you cant move. Your stuck. Scared. Terrified. And fighting health with everything you have. Tired yet? Its time to stick to the plan. Is that so hard? Cause you could 1. Follow your plan or 2. give in to this jerk ED. That little Mofo needs to beat it. He just wants you miserable. And he is doing pretty good isn't he? So ya done fighting now? Just try it. Try sticking to the plan. For a day. For a week.
Thanks~
GOD

Yep. That's what it takes to get through my thick skull. A dented garage. Good grief.

My many modes...

The last two sessions with my therapist have been really eye opening....
I realized that I operate in modes-these modes all relate to one another and operate on a circular track.
There is the eat mode...and not just eat a little...like eat A LOT...like been restricting and gone too long without food and need something NOW really hungry mode that FREAKS me out MODE.
Red Mode.
Then there is the moderate- maintaining mode where I'm comfortable and following my meal plan for the most part and sufficiently feeding myself. Not too hungry, not too full.
Green  mode~
Then there is my compensation mode in which either I was JUST in the red zone and now must compensate for a previous slip up- in Ed's mind-
Or, I know an event or dinner is coming up and I'm going to probably eat foods I'm not comfortable with OR GASP perhaps have something OFF my meal plan.
Its like a bank in my mind...I have to make sure I have racked up enough points to "earn" the special event food or whatever. I have to have stuck to my rigid rules, starved myself enough before hand, and had enough activity to compensate for whatever I'm about to "indulge" in. The indulging lasts...seconds....before I am already trying to calculate what I have to do to get rid of it. I can't even enjoy it. I must compensate to make up for the calories I just allowed that I feel unsafe with. Skim here, subtract here, add more physical activity there.
Orange mode-
Then there is my restrictive mode, which is pretty similar to my compensation mode. STRICT adherence to my meal plan- LIMITED EVERYTHING- accept for working out of course...that is as much as I can get away with....
yellow mode~
THEN there is the scary alert zone/mode in which people start saying I look sick and start bugging me about being "too thin." Too thin....this is preposterous to me...I want to look at them and shout...CANT YOU SEE ME?? NO! THIN?? ME!!! NOOOOO! I will always be the fat 12 year old girl I remember..the one that haunts me every fucking day of my life. The only thing I see in the mirror EVERY friggin day. The very thing I run from IS ME. Thus, I don't get this concept of too thin when it comes to me.
Black Mode. Death mode.
It is now the season of fall....which means soon it will be winter. Which means soon the skies will open up and a crap ton of snow will fall on the ground, making it quite difficult to take my strolls in which help give me my mental sanity, at best. FOR YEARS I have struggled with winter. I get super depressed and FREAKED out...because I HAVE TO BE ABLE TO COMPENSATE FOR WHATEVER I PUT INTO MY MOUTH!!!! Thus, the fact that it will soon be "the most wonderful time of year" again soon has been heavy on my heart. Like a crap ton of bricks :/
Lastly, my therapist and I established that I really need a new role model. For years and still to this day, as much as I hate to admit, I STILL use my mother as the barometer of food intake. Of "normal" activity. ED still shouts that daughters are SUPPOSED to be smaller than their mothers....and WOW I SUCK because she is TINY. Me, I more resemble a walrus. Blubbery. *shutter*
Whenever I think about perhaps trying some new  food, I think....well....she doesn't eat this. All I grew up knowing was what SHE put in her mouth. I have NOOOOO friggin clue what a normal healthy human woman eats....what is "normal" for a day's worth of food and activity. I just go by what I was shown...ED. Its safe. Its comfortable. Its all I knew. I was taught by the best "Anna" practitioner there was.
CRAP. These three topics, my modes which can be switched at a DROP of a hat...like an on and off light switch, the fact that winter is coming and my one stress release is slipping away like the setting sun, and the fact that I can't eat without seeing my mother's skeletal frame running down the fucking road has all been really affecting me lately. Your prayers would be appreciated. Sigh. I really am messed up....

Skylar Grey~ Invisible

This song....was made for me. It gives me goosebumps.

http://youtu.be/NYyclTt08tA

Happy friggin' birthday

Ya know the feeling?? That feeling that just won't go away!! It is like the smell of disgusting bacon. The taste of Italian seasoning that lingers on your breathe for hours. A spaghetti sauce stain on a white shirt. You can't get rid of it. It wont go away, no matter how hard you try.
Ya...well that's the feeling I'm dealing with right now. Tension. I could cut it with a knife. It is just lingering in this house. My brother and I don't get along. I try to be nice...I really do. But I just end up saying the wrong thing AGAIN and then its World War III. Its always my fault. I'm always wrong. I'm always the b*$#@ that everyone hates and I should never have come home. This was the gist of the fight we had yesterday. I left the house in tears. I never wanted to come back. I walked...for hours. This is my MO. Sometimes not the best idea...but yesterday. I just needed to. Walk it out. Kick some stones. Curse at the sky. And cry. A good cry is always the best. Draining, but you feel so much better after. Also...talking with my favorite people ever (Brenda and Miles Torres) helps a crap ton. I don't know how they stand me... me and my angsty stories. blah blah blah. Ugh. I'm so undeserving.
But now today is my brother's birthday. 1. I just want to punch him in the face. 2. I was supposed to drive him to the mall today and spend the afternoon following him and his little friends around the mall which, I was actually kind of looking forward to because I could have spent time with him. But after yesterday, ya. He kicked me to the curb, decided he wanted my dad to. whatever. 3. HES GETTING A FRIGGIN BDAY CAKE and ED is already killing me about it. To eat or not to eat? that is the bloody question!
Soooo many thoughts are going through my head. If I eat some, how am I going to get rid of it. I will only eat some if my mom does. What if they say something about me NOT eating it. Maybe I should just not eat all day. OR ever again!!! I don't want to eat cause I feel miserable after everything that was said yesterday anyways. And I don't deserve food. Maybe I will just stuff my face with the goshdamn thing!! kglkdjslksjklfjsdklfjsl
Oh my gosh I hate ED. So ya...at this point, I just want to take the cake and chuck it out the friggin window. THIS would bring me great pleasure. However, my brother would just be even more awkwardly angry at me than before. no bueno.
So what it comes down to is...I pretty much feel like I am a sucky daughter/sister/ PERSON ALL AROUND. I just cant do anything right for anyone. I'm always angry apparently. My answer to that...HECK YES I'M ANGRY. I have to clean up all your friggin messes AND on top of that deal with your CRAPPY attitudes and hear you complain about EVERYTHING in life. ALSO on top of that...I am an adult..who sucks at life and lives at home, has a crappy job that does not even start till Tuesday, is taking two friggin piddly classes at a community college because I dropped out of school last semester due to MY FRIGGIN EATING DISORDER. Yes I'm angry. BUT NOT AT YOU! AT MYSELF. And how gosh dang LAME I am. So sorry that my inward sulkiness is affecting YOU. Shiz.
I am just feeling like I want to get out right now. I don't want to be at home. They don't want me there. I am dispensable. I am just a pain in their kankle. A nuisance.
Yep that's my middle name Winter LAMEEEE NUISANCE GROESCHL. Trust me it is...people call me that behind my back...;)
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
ok. I need to go....punch...scream.....DANCE IT OUT to Lady GAG now. IF you have any suggestions.....or an alternate living situation idea....LET ME KNOW. You guys are da best. don't know why you read this. Your eyes are probably all burning. I apologize....go soak your corneas. I love ya.

6 months~

I have been "in recovery" for 6 months. And by "in recover" I mean, actively trying to get my life back from the pits of hell I was in....also known as my E.D. ugh.
Honestly, tonight I feel just NASTY. Im just gonna throw out alllll the words E.D. is callin me right now~ cause it is soooo friggin loud! FAT, UGLY, DISGUSTING, FAILURE, CANT DO ANYTHING RIGHT!, PIGGGG,STUPID, HIDEOUS, BLOB, GOOP (i dont even know what that means...i just feel like it....) WILL NEVER AMOUNT TO ANYTHING, IDIOT!!!!! PLAYDOUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
REVOLTING, LAZY,  HEINOUS, FAT, FAT, FAT, FAT, FAT, FAT!!!!
Frick. After 6 months i thought the voices would shut up. HE IS SOOOOO LOUD TONIGHT!
I WANT TO RUNNNNNN I NEVER WANT TO LOOK AT FOOOOOOD AGAINNNNNN
why!!! why why why.....I feel like a monster. I pity those close to me. I suck. Im controlling and a jerk and i yell at my brothers and I cause pain and anger and disappointment and regret. Im not making a difference. Im just taking up space with my doughy-ness.
I CANT DO ANYTHING RIGHT! I AM CLUMSY AND AWKWARD AND I SAY THE WRONG THINGS AND GIVE THAT "TONE" AND GET WEIRD LOOKS AND I LOOK JUST WEIRD
kjksljfklsjdflksjfklsjdlsjklf
ok I need to stop...Im sorry all. :/

Memories~

Sometimes I wish I could be brainwashed. There are times I wish I could have amnesia and forget about this stupid disease. Can't teach an old dog new tricks. Ugh...why does this have to be so true.
I wish I could forget, erase my memory of the things I have done in the past. The tactics and tweaks I know oh so well. The paths I have chosen and the things I encountered along the way.
I am cleaning up the kitchen and went to put something away in a cupboard when I came across a large manila envelope. Inside were all the letters I sent to my dad while I was in treatment.
Ya know how some people write in a journal or a notebook when they are feeling angsty and then burn it when its full? ya..well those letters...are like that journal. I don't know why I thought I should look at them again, but I did. And all those memories came flooding back to me. Being in treatment. What hell it was. The pain I caused my father and my family. And it makes me sick. It kills me to see the words on the page. Feel the feelings all over again. Yuck. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, poison. I want to wash myself off...I feel dirty. All the guilt and shame just comes right back. I want to starve it away. I want to run till I die. Because right now I don't feel like I deserve to be here. I deserve what I did to those around me who loved me. I deserve the pain and agony and financial shortcomings I have inflicted on others. THAT is why I feel I deserve ED. I deserve that life. I deserve to suffer. I don't feel like I deserve the forgiveness I know has been given to me. Again. And again. And again. Why? Why did You save me? What good am I to You? Look at me!!! I'm a mess. A freaking mess! 19 years old, living at home and barely a penny to my name. I just walk around with this shame and guilt on my back- Friggin ED choking me to death. I'm a quivering ball of flub, just waiting for something...someone to kick me around. I just want to scream DON'T LOOK AT ME!! Don't touch me! Can't you see? Can't you see the disgusting sinful screw up that I am?!! I can't get it together. I am messing everything up for you. 'Sorry' is the perpetual plee I cry out to you. Swear its the only word I can mutter, manage, offer up to you. A sorry human being. Sorry that I cannot be more for you. Sorry that I was going to do it all for you- going to make everything better. And I can't.
I. Am. Sorry.

Time Travel...and other confessions

Who knows the answer to life?

Not ME!!!

If I had a magic glass ball that showed me the future, I would chuck it and break it into a million tiny fragments. I just watched the movie Time Traveler’s Wife for the first time last night. Super great movie! Totally intriguing to me! But I am pretty sure Rachel McAdams is on crack for marrying a dude that can see the future…and mingle among past, present, and future. Cause knowing how your life will play out would drive me up the wall. Cause the future scares the bat crap out of me. If I would have been given a glimpse into the future a few years ago, I don’t think I could have handled what I saw. God does not give us more than we can handle- Thus, he thankfully does not give us the capability of being omniscient. Personally, my brain would implode.

Right now I am guilty of future tripping quite a bit. Where is the money going to come from to pay off the rest of school? Will I be able to go back to U of I in the spring? Maybe I should RA again…What am I going to do after my undergraduate it finished? Holy crap...I have to figure out my life. Jksdfsajuuidhgjkdnfkj

This is where I need to stop and give myself a chill pill. My chill pill-opium. No just kiddin’. My personal remedy is the Bible. Costs less… oh and the side effects are less invasive.

I kind of cling to this verse like James Franco from the movie 127 hours clung to that big ole’ boulder for.. what was it…like…oh ya! 127 hours! Oh, he was stuck?…Well shoooooot.

Here it is: Jeremiah 29:11-New International Version (NIV)

¹¹ For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

I do have hope. Because I know I have a future. And I know me worrying about it today is not going to do a flying fart. It ain’t gonna change NOTHIN’. It is just going to give me a large, burning ulcer. (yuck~) It will just take away from the lessons I am to learn today. Why is it that I can’t trust God on these things? Like the way I trust my dietitian or my therapist. I KNOW they have my back-they are watching the numbers and they will help me keep on track with recovery. So why is it that I can’t put that same amount of trust in God? I think it may be because I don’t feel as though I DESERVE to have that peace of mind. I feel like I have had points in my life where I downright disobeyed him, blatantly and directly to His face. He pointed me in the right direction- I gave Him an impy grin, flicked Him the birdy, and went the ENTIRELY opposite way. I sat in church and heard Him loud and clear telling me how I was SUPPOSED to be living my life. I would cry, I would cry harder and think yeah I really need to do this. I would then proceed to go home and start living my life of sin and deception and secrets all over again.

 In church for the past several weeks, we have been going through the book of Ephesians. Yesterday’s message touched on the act of stripping off our old sinful ways and becoming more like Christ. Pastor Rodney asked us to honestly assess which way our lives were growing- towards Christ or towards ungodliness. I know I have hit my rock bottom. Rehab was DEFINITELY my bottom. I know which way I need to be growing. But are all my actions and thoughts and beliefs pointing upwards? Am I doing everything I can for His kingdom? Am I walking my talk? This is where I honestly have to assess myself. After that service and an email conversation my wonderful friend whom I met at the Ranch, I can see where there are things that are still tinged and tainted with ED. A lot of things. And that concerns me. I thank God I am not where I WAS. But I still feel like I have a lot of work to do. I am imperfect. And I thank God everyday for my friends and family who KNOW this and see this in me, yet still love me. Even when I can’t. Because right now, I am kind of disgusted by me. Disgusted with the sinner I am. Disgusted with how Satan still uses ED to drive a wedge between me and life. But as God as my witness and with the strength I have in me, I will fight to kick down that barrier every day.

R.I.P ED

I LOVE YOU ALL~

Me, myself, and I

I can’t make a decision to save my life.

Don’t go shopping with me. I won’t be able to decide if I should buy it or not. So I will walk around for half an hour with it. Then I will decide to get it. Then I will put it back. Then I will ask to go back and get it again. I will once again get it, quickly pay for it, get home and the then return it.

I hate shaving.

I DO eat my vegetables.

My idea of makeup- Chapstick and maybe some concealer to cover up the dark bags under my eyes cause my friend once asked me, have you slept lately? No, I really just got junk punched in the face by a homeless zombie. Actually, as a matter of fact, I just didn’t put makeup on today thanks for noticing. :/

I don’t watch TV and movies. I have ADD.  I have the attention span of a kindergartner. I will begin twitching and making weird noises if you try and subdue me for too long. I may start screaming and you may need to take me out the of room.

I read.

I am picky.

I use phrases like shiz, oh mylanta, and gee wiz to give "life" to my vocabulary. In essence, I talk like a second grader.

My time spent on my walks outdoors is my sacred me time. It is the equivalent to your cup of coffee in the morning. Without it, I can not function.

No, I do not think it is cute when your ugly dog start chasing me. Pen that UGLY thing up.                           

I will clean. If you mess it up, I will castrate you.

No I don’t want to go to dinner with you. Because watching me eat is like watching World War II all over again.

I should come with a warning label- May cause severe itching, burning, bleeding or bruising. Harmful if swallowed. That’s what she said.

Yes, I use that phrase. Quite frequently. So get used to it.

I want Jim Halpert as my husband.

Yes I know I am leaving the house with no makeup on, my workout clothes as my attire, and my hair in a semi-falling out ponytail. Avert your eyes. They may spontaneously begin to bleed.

I am a penny pincher. And when I say pincher, I mean I try to save money ANY way I can. NO, not prostitution thank you. But by any other means.

My goal in life has been the same ever since I was three- to be the white Oprah.

I cannot burp. It is not that I don’t want to! Believe me I do! My body is just malfunctional.

Malfunctional is not a word. Yet, I seem to have used it twice.

Yep, just spell checked it. Not a word. Yes, I use spellcheck.

I run into things. I drop things with no good reason. I fall up/down/through stairs. I can’t walk straight. And yes I am sober at the time.

Worrying is a pastime of mine. If it were an Olympic sport, I would take gold.

I need to quit complaining.

Can’t touch this. (Cue music now..da nah nah nah…nah nah…nah nah..) No seriously…don’t touch me.

I like to sing. Annoying loud. All the time.

I give a pretty damn good puppy dog face. Gets my dad every time.

I am controlling.

I wonder if a human can subsist on pickles and frozen yogurt…

I get quite unpleasant when hungry. Which is pretty much the only cue you will get that I am hungry. I won’t tell you.

SHES HAVING A SEIZURE. No…no that is just me attempting to dance.

My voice is, quite possibly, the most annoying noise on the planet.

I would rather live in danger, than die with fear.

I am what I am. No changing this one. I can’t be tamed. Oh gag I think I just quoted Miley Cyrus…I TAKE IT BACK. Heave…heave…gag...barf.

This is me. Take it or leave it. There are days where the quiet assails me. I wish I were something more. Something different. There are days when I am afraid what you think of me. I panic when I do something outside my comfort zone. I try to lose myself in the chaos of life. Perhaps then I will forget what I am.

Look into my eyes. But not for too long. For I fear you will see the truth. All the things I have done. All the words that are unspoken, resting on my lips. The taste of bitter mourning, never to reach the surface. Perhaps they will spill out. Fly into the air. And then drop to the ground and shatter as broken glass. Will you then pick up the pieces? Or will you point and laugh at the mistake that I am. This thing that is me. Will you risk cutting yourself to help me put this mess back together? Or will you walk away and mutter that I am not worth your time, not what you were looking for. Am I destined to be alone? Will I ever amount to anything?  My greatest fear resides in your response. I shutter as you walk past. If you only knew. Me.

Fake vs. Real

FAKE~ Having a false or misleading appearance.

One that is not authentic.

To contrive and present as genuine.

"Fake people are like pennies, two-faced and worthless. Real people are never fake, and fake people are never real." Anonymous

Here are some thoughts of mine on this concept of FAKE things~

Fake boobs- Ya know their phony when they don’t bounce. :/

Fake environmentalists- Claim they don’t eat meat to “save the animals”…and then they parade around in their fur coats and pelt hats.

Drive their Prius two miles to work and then snowmobile, four wheel, and jet ski all weekend.

Bottled water while there are places in the world that DONT have access to clean water directly.

Recycle? What's that?

Fake tan- You, my dear woman, are not tan. You are orange. Either you have contracted a very serious skin disease, Leprosy perhaps? Or you deficient in some essential vitamin. I would get that checked out, ASAP.

Fake ID’s- So Betty Sue…why don’t you run along and give this back to your momma. You ain’t 21.

Is Winter your real name?????

Fake diamonds- “Dude! Your wife tried to trade her ring in?”

“Ya, and then she found out it was fake…”

“No wonder you’re sleepin’ on the couch…”

Fake: Can’t go to sleep, leave the house, or be seen without makeup on.

Fake smile: Wow…that looks like it hurts….I hate being constipated.

Plastic surgery: Again again!…smile again….Nope still nothing. It is amazing…NOTHING on your face moves! Please refer to Michael Jackson’s nose. Grotesque.

Fakers- I have no flaws. FAKE humility- I have no strengths and only weaknesses. REAL people: I got strengths and weaknesses baby! I am perfectly imperfect!

Hair: ‘Scuse me! I think you just l dropped your cat…

The poof…. is a large mound of hair that is pushed up close to the forehead and secured with a zillion bobby pins and a mass amount of hairspray. If you push on it gently….POP GOES THE WIESEL!

Nacho cheese…oooooh good Lord. NO that would be orange goop..probably the same goop people use to fake tan with.

Bologna: Processed cat and dog body parts…a little circular convenient sliceeeee of slimy goodness!~(barf)  Oooooh my bologna has a first name in OSCAR- um STOP right there…that was your DOGS name..Oscar…the same dog that went into make this crap.

Fast food- It may be fast, but it is definitely not food.

SPAM: Anything that could survive a nuclear blast should not be consumed or ingested.

Stuvia: mmm tastes like sugar…cause it’s made  from…CANCER CAUSING CHEMICALS!

Fake: Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, and the Easter Bunny. Kid…if some bearded man dressed in red slides down your chimney…it is NOT Old Chris Kringle…THAT would be an escaped convict/felon. Call the 911 ASAP.

Fairy tales: Ya ya ya…if I had seven little men following me around constantly, I would KNOW that it wasn’t real! And there is no WAY they lived “happily ever after.” And glass slippers…hello! CRACK

Models: Sure, you could live your life strutting down a runway, pouting at camera, and subsisting on rice cakes and carrot sticks. But that is not life. That is FAKE. Was Mother Teresa a size two? Did Jesus fake bake and spend his loaves and fishes gettin’ his taaaaan on? I think not. They will be remembered for the great works they did-the things they accomplished. So while the whole world is fooled into thinking that thin is in- I know what it leads to. I can play out the tape. Twiggy is not pretty. And I refuse to allow you to make me think otherwise. Know why? IT’S FAKE

REAL life is doing chores likes making the bed, scrubbing the latrine, and doing the dishes. It's workin' 9-5 at some insanely boring desk job, but hey it pays the bills. It is being a mother, a teacher, a surgeon, a waiter. It is spent scraping your kids poo off the wall at 4 am. Holding your friend's hair when she has a little too much to drink. Waiting by the phone for that special person to call you just so you can hear their voice, though they are thousand's of miles away. REAL life is hard. Get a helmet. It sucks at times. But I wouldn't trade it for a moment. Because trials are what makes us stronger. Tribulation creates a fire in us that can never be quenched. God created this life for us- He chose to provide the Way, the Truth, and the Life to save us. Real enough for ya? THAT kind of love can never be faked.

* I would like to dedicate this post to my good friend Jami (AKA DILLHOLE) Kidd~ You inspire me- you are one of the most REAL people I know.

SHOUT out

Shout out to all my friends, family, and fellow Rosewood/ANJ survivors who have been there for me and have been praying for me throughout this journey~
I am so blessed- God is good all the time, even when the circumstances are dire.
Friends and family: Thank you all for your support and love-even when I mess up at this thing called life.
My fellow ED survivors~ I LOVE YOU ALL and please stay strong.
Jesus- Thank you for life. <3 Help me to LIVE it and not be a slave to ED, in bondage to satan's lies.
Help me find me way. Im scared right now..so many unknowns and doubts. All I can do is wait and see how the cards will play out and let the pieces fall where they may.
R.I.P ED

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OK...Need to vent...about this...FRIGGIN DAY :/ ya...that good~
E.D. is really in my face today...I have tried utilizing all my wonderful "coping mechanisms" I found during rehab....But I need to do something with this cause I'm sitting here thinkin' I should just not eat tonight..or tomorrow...or ever again really. And that's when I know its time to whip out the big guns...my readers who will pray for me~
K. So~ First off, I woke up this morning feeling like I got hit by a truck. Oh, wait...I did...yesterday. In the mall parking lot by a lady who I guess does not believe in looking both ways. Ya....ouch.
Despite a few weird lumps, bumps, cuts, bruises, blood and swelling...I think Im ok...
However, I took it easy...ish today and that immediately made me feel lazy...So ED was like heeeey you are just sitting around...reading and not moving around alot...so why do you NEED to eat snacks...pssshhh snacks are for athletes...not a sloth like youuuuuuu. Ugh.....

Then, my lovely brothers, brother's girlfriend and I all went to hang out at the mall today. Yes, the same mall I got hit by the truck on my bike at yesterday. Well, while walking to the mall, I slipped on the turf cause i was wearing stupid but oh so pretty flip flops that have zero traction capabilities apparently. Fell. RIGHT into a thorn bush...stopped myself with the same hang I slammed yesterday..so if it wasn't broken before...it sure as hell is now. :/ Annnnnd I'm still picking thorns out of my arm which now resembles raw hamburger meat....I could give Ben Herr a run for his money after his wicked chariot crash...

My parents had "counseling" today...which means they are just deciding when they will sign the papers that will be living proof that our family is now officially broken. It's all said and done but the signatures...My hopes of a somewhat normal family of five will forever be a fairytale I only read about it books that are...FAKE.

I went for a bike ride tonight on my brother's bike cause my tire is F-ed up thanks to yesterday's mishap. My brother's bike seat is....impressively painful. Im pretty sure I fried my ovaries from the countless years of starving myself, but if I didn't and there was any hopes I may still have been fertile....well that bike seat took care of it.... YOUCH

I don't know what hurt more though...the bike seat...or the fact that on my journey I caught my dad running. Yep, running. Now...he is entitled to do whatever the hell he wants to do. His life. However, we have had countless discussions about how he just walks and thinks walking is better than running cause its easier on the knees and how its ok that I dont run anymore...cause neither does he and he is healthy as a horse. Well I kinda wanted to beat a horse...right in the friggin schnoz when I saw him just a-joggin down the bike path towards me. No, dad. You are not a hypocrite. I am not saying that...but obviously...I am not stupid...or blind cause I saw you tonight...and that was not a walk...or a fast brisk trot. That would be what we call running....please don't be dishonest and tell me that all you do is walk. Cause that is a load of crap.
And that is what I feel like right now. A big LOAD OF CRAP. My body is crap. Im just flabbbbbbby crap.
Im friggin sick of eating 6 friggin times a day. I hate food. I hate that I can't do ANYTHING without feeling that I am on Big Brother, my every move being watched. I hate that I can't run. I hate my meal plan.
 I hate FRIGGGGGIN ED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So yes...I pause and wonder..hmm so I wonder why I am having all these ED thoughts right now...
I H.A.L.T, an acronym I learned in treatment...
Am I hungry...um HECK NO I FRIGGIN EAT 6 TIMES A FRIGGIN DAY!!!! AHHHHHHH
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Am I angry...YES IM ANGRY!
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Am I lonely....
what! Me? Lonely...Miss oh its a homeless person..Be my friend?? Oh too much..yeppers I'm lonely...
And lastly am I tired...
beyond tired.

so I score four out of five..great...on top of this LOVELY day...:/
And I have to friggin work tomorrow....LORD HELP ME NOT TO PUNCH MY L.O.D IN THE FACE
Ok..I'm done...really I'm done venting...
This blog should come with a warning sign...especially for the part about my heiny being in pain..sorry....to all those who were scarred....
Im going to go watch some Snookie off of Jersey Shore..cause ima load a crap that watched crap like that to make my brain shut up. :/

Fam- freakin- family

Family...People that are related to you..which can either be a good...or a bad thing.
For almost a year now, our family of five was shaken up, thrown around, and puked up onto the side walk.
My two brothers and I now live with my dad, while my mother lives off on her own. The four of us trying to co-habitate together has been quite the challenge. Let me give ya a little run-down.
There is my dad- He is ALWAYS right. ALWAYS. He is the way the truth and the life..and no one goes anywhere or gets anything accept through him :/ Don't challenge him. He will go ape crap on you. PERFECTIONIST WORKAHOLIC...(and did I mention...HES ALWAYS FRIGGIN RIGHT??!!!!)  I get those "charming" character defects from him...Love him to death...but he puts Stalin to shame at times.

There is (what shall  we call him for confidential purposes.... umm...J-Wow). The second oldest and oldest son. J-WOW is
1. Lazy
2. Quiet
3. Apathetic
4. LAZZZZYYYYYY
J-WOW does not care about anything but 1. his girlfriend and 2. playing his video games 25 hours a day...(yes he loves it so much he somehow goes against time itself..and somewhere created another hour in the day...something I have been trying to do for YEARS)
He has sooo much potential...and NEVER applies it.

Then there is (we shall call him Nunya...) Nunya is the youngest. His life is nunya damn business. He does whatever he pleases...which includes using ALL my stuff...no matter what it is. It is his. He doesn't care if it has the words DO NOT USE written all over it...Its gonnnnneeeee. Swissssh
Nunya liveeeees for his friends. He has created himself into whatever person they will accept...another lovely trait we have in common :/ However, unfortunately, he has chosen quite an interesting crowd to join. And by interesting I don't mean they are nice little pleasant folk who sit around and stencil bible verses on their bedroom walls. No...they write skanky, slutty things on their skanky,slutty selves and live their lives worried about nothing more than who is dating who and who has the best breathe. Bite me.

And then there is me. I am COT:
1. Controlling
2. Over protective
3. Think Im the mom now that we lack one you have three seconds to go do your chores or I will...um...ah......one..two...threeeeeeeeee!!!!!
And oh ya..Im super irritating and probably really annoying to live with...Ya know I just kinda waft around..clean stuff..and then when you mess it up I get pissed and probably yell at you. I mostly just like to tell you what to do, when to do it...and NOW. Ugh...
So now that I have bored you to death with my rambling your are probably like ok what the heck is the crazy girl's point...I am sorry to tell you there is no point. I am just complaining and blkajskjfdgjksd- ing about how difficult it is to try and make this weird shambled family of four who are more different than The Beatles or characters off of Star Wars life peacefully under one friggin roof... Like you have me..Jabba the Hut...then Nunya..the wooki...J-WOW is C3P0 or whoever that gold robot it...and then my dad is Darth Vador/Luke Skywalker/Hans Solo depending on the day, time, and whether or not I messed something up or accidentally let old milk sour in his ONLY water bottle. Gasp. I suck.
So ya...Im so ready to get out. I feel sometimes that I just went backwards. I mean like..ya obviously I went backwards. Rehab is definitely NOT some flying leap of YA...Im independent now and have my own place...like all my other friends accomplished. No...I went from out on my own..to oh shizz rehab..to great. Penny-less and living at home with Chewbacca scraping his pee off the toiled seat all morning... Mmmmm I love cleaning the bathroom and dry heaving simultaneously first thing in the morning! I love my life..I love my life..I love my life...
Aaaaaaand now I am done ranting. I need to be thankful. I am. I am trying to be. Thank you God...that I am not STILL in rehab..or living on the street...or slipping roofies in some old guys drink so I can sketch some money of the dude. Thank you that I still have a job...I DO have a family that loves me..though it is friggin hard sometimes and they make me want to punch them in their arms..which wouldn't even hurt them cause they are all like grown now and could take me...but shhh don't tell them that.
Sigh...the truth of the matter is I need to just shut up and be grateful. Cause yes, our family is weird...and broken..and definitely not like The Waltens. But it is my family non-the-less.The only one I got. The one God gave me~

I wish.....

Last night I spent the evening sitting outside on my mom's porch chattin' away to the sounds of crickets.
She told me the story of when she was in shopping at a store and passed a little girl and her mom trying on clothes. The little girl, around the sweet age of five, pulled gently on her mothers shirt and whispered,
"Mommy, am I fat?"
The mom got down on her knees, eye level with her little daughter and said firmly,
"NO! You are perfect."
I could have bawled my friggin eyes out when I heard this story. Grab yer ark cause the Flood part 2 is hittin...
UGH It hit me that if I could have one wish...I would wish that all the stigma around image would be GONE. DONE WITH. Never heard of again. There would not be an emphasis on what your body looked like. The beauty industry would be composed of DOVE and Burt's Bees. Good enough for me!
Models and runways would be done away with. Magazines...we would dance around them in a large bonfire...No more commercials using tiny stick women to sell every day products...like friggin shampoo...really people..I just want my Suave..I don't want to see some play boy showing me how grand it is...I can try it out for myself, thanks.
Also...no more Victoria Secret models. Those commercials make me want to punch babies.
I wish I could take the advice that mommy gave to her sweet little girl, put it in a present and wrap it up with a pink frilly bow. I would give it to each and every woman and girl and just watch their faces as they opened it and allowed the truth to truly soak into their hearts. I wish I could convince their little inner girl..that they too, are perfect just as God made them.
And I wish that I could tell the media...TO BEAT IT. (I will keep it pg...:)

schooooooooooooooooooooool (where the flying fart did summer go?)

So NIC finally let me register for my pittle-ey three classes. Sessions start August 22. Um...I JUST got back June 24~ WHAT! I have barely had a summer. :( I have had one paycheck..for 6 hours...I'm screwed. WHERE did summer go!!! Half my life feels like it has transpired since I was in friggin rehab for what seems like a zillion years. (yes I'm old- I bathed with dinosaurs.)
I'm so nervous (and that is the understatement of the year...)Scared that my brain will just shut down on me when I'm trying to learn cause I'm ridiculous like that. What if I can't find my classes? HOW am I going to get to and from school since my dad needs our ONE vehicle for work? Gosh..I'm going to have to take the bus...AHHHHCK have you seen the people who ride the bus...I'm definitely gonna got crack pushed on me...great. Well this will be a perfect opportunity to perfect my angry face....grrrrrr. Scared yet? Shooooot
Most of all..I'm terrified of failing. :( It is so much easier to live in the emptiness and silence that has become normal...accepted. But now I have to take a leap of faith outside my comfort zone.
So I did school before. Maybe I can do it now... Orrrrr again..maybe I will just start a TV show with my many...many cats. Stay tuned.

ugh...men. Ugh...me

My longest relationship was a year and a half. Like the saying says...all good things must come to an end. Well it did. A very rough and painful end. We don't speak any more and it saddens me. What happened that turned things so sour? What could I have done to preserve the relationship? Um...how bout NOT be me...ugh
My brother and his girlfriend have been together for two and a half years. They will both be seniors graduating from high school this upcoming term. Last night my brother and his girlfriend went to a movie and invited me to come along with them. Um...free movie! Heck yes. I gratefully agreed! As we filed into the dark theater and took our seats, I realized another one of my friends was sitting to the left of us with her "significant other." I was now smack dab in the middle of the two couples. Ugh...
It then occurred to me...that I really suck when it comes to guys and relationships. I went hiking with a very nice guy last Tuesday. Mysterious, older, responsible, and drop dead dreamy, I found myself trying very hard to see why he would even want to waste the hour hiking with me- regardless that we are just friends. It still boggles me. I spent the hole evening hike trying hard not to:
1. Fall
2. Say something stupid...but keep the conversation going which circled mainly around work...my phobia of snakes...and his pets..(ugh I suck)
and 3. fall of a cliff.
I accomplished two of the three goals. However, I was so shy (which is soooo unlike me accept when it comes to guys!) and stuck in my head that by the time we reached the end of our hike at the bottom of the parking lot...I pretty much fled the scene.
"Welll this is where I'm parked so by!!!"
Wow Winter..Way to be..way. to. be.
Ugh whatever. It is said and done. I am still left with the awful taste in my mouth that I am perpetually broken when it comes to interacting with guys...in a normal socially acceptable way. Its like I see a dude and I just clam up. Is there any hope for this guy handicapped woman? I seriously doubt it. It will just be me and my 53030q39040983943048 cats. (yes there is a q in there...:/ don't know what numeral that replaces..but its going to be a lot of fricken cats)

Success is a choice~

I walked by a car the other day that had the quote, "Success is a choice" on it the other day.
I totally agree with this statement. The unfortunate thing, however, is I am a master self sabotage- er.
The choice can be plain as day in front of me and I still choose to ignore it and look the other way.
Winter, you need to stop running temporarily you are injured.
Winter, you really should take better care of yourself...you are looking a little frail.
And the inevitable..Winter you need to stop this or you will die.
The fact of the matter was, I couldn't. I was consumed. My only "choice" was death. I couldn't stop what I was doing on my own.
Today, I have choices. I have the choice to succeed in this "recovery" thing or choose to ignore my team's recommendations for me.
On Friday, I will have been out of treatment and back home a month. And I need to integrity check. WOW its been a long time since I have done one of these! So here we go~ I can tell that my "choices" are beginning to be tainted by ED again. My choices to skimp a little here and add some cardio in there. Now, granted, it has not affected me YET. But I know where these choices take me- I can play out the tape...all the way back to freakin rehab in Arizona. And God knows I NEVER want to end up there again. I just needed to come clean. And I will need to come clean on Friday with my dietitian. Because it is getting to that place where I am beginning to fear my choices- My meal plan- to fear surrendering again. So that's what I need to do. Because the secret of success...is surrender. To your higher power. To your team. And I just keep thinkin' I can keep doing it by myself. But I cant. I need all of you. No more secrets. I'm letting you know now. Progress..not perfection.

RAIN~

The rain began last night. Thunder and lightning graced the sky periodically. The rain continued into today in the form of a steady down fall.
I went for a walk in the rain. I LOVE walking in the rain. It clears the cobwebs from my mind. The droplets wash away all doubt, pain, suffering, and care in that moment.
Wash over me-make me new.
The rain makes me long to be a child again. I want to make a giant blanket fort, find flashlights, and pretend we are astronauts on a long anticipated venture. Indians hiding from fierce storms. A family living back in the Colonial times.
I want to lose myself in between the covers of a mystery book, lost in the wonder and angst of what happens to Bobby and Sue as they solve the mystery of the century.
I want to run outside. Climb trees. Seek out adventure. I want to fall and feel the pain and have you pick me up, kiss the boo boo, and reassure me that I am OK- It is just a scrape.
I want to finger paint, color outside the lines, sculpt masterpieces that would shame Michelangelo with Play Dough.
I want to play dolls and script their life, making every aspect perfect, knowing all along the plan for their life.
I want to pretend the world is not rotating today- that all time is frozen and it is just you and me.
I want you to look at me the way you once did. I want to hold your hand and hear about your day. I want to tell you my dreams, all the while feeling my insides burning with anticipation and hope. I want to be able to trust. To feel. To know that I am safe in your arms and that no matter what happens, I have you.
I want to be ignorant of all the world says- all that it requires of me. It is on days like today that my inner child creeps out and begs to play. My little Winnie whispers to me, patiently, beautifully- twirling around in her black, sequined leotard. She is fearless. She is un-knowing. She is willing. She is PERFECT.
Why? Why cannot I see that little girl in the mirror staring back at me with her big brown eyes and waist-length curly hair? Why can't I hear her simple requests for fun- for life- for food- and for love and meet them? Why do I neglect this small child yearning for love and attention? If I could go back in time and tell her anything, I would simply tell her this:
"Take your time little one. One day at a time. You are a daughter of God. You are loved. You are beautiful."
Please open your eyes. See the rain. Feel its promise. Drink it in.

Back in Black*

Soooo I think my funk started with this whole stupid job thing. I get stressed over choices. I get stressed when they are a big deal to me and they involve other people. I get stressed when it means my choice might hurt someone else and impact them negatively.

I think I dove farther into my funk on Friday when I met with my beautiful dietitian. She weighed me. And the numbers  did not move. My weight was stable for a week. For once! Now, this should be a great thing, right? I should be happy. Oh Lordy, here I go with the “shoulds” again. Well I was not jumping up and down with happiness or joy. In fact, I just kinda sat there. Ok. Cool. Whatever.

I felt numb. Sedated. Apathetic. Checked out.

 I left and it hit me. I felt…sad. Depressed. Confused. Disgusted.  I have become so accustomed to every appointment with the dietitian being a big fiasco, usually ending up with me blubbering hysterically. I am usually forced to have to do things I am not comfortable with. The usual….you need to eat more-walk less..blah blah blah. However, this appointment did not follow the status quo. It went..fine. Well many would argue. But I maintained.  My eating disorder was PISSED OFF.

“What do you mean you maintained? Um..hello! Have you seen yourself!  You disgust me.”

The eating disordered, messed up, sick side of me was sad- angry even- that I had not dropped. I realized that I am really going to have to do this. I am really going to have maintain this new body of mine. This new body and I are not friends. We are closer to the enemy side of things. In fact, I really freaking hate me right now. I kinda wish I could just start cuttin’ pieces of my fleshy, fat rear right off! OK, a little morbid I know… I realize that. But I’m serious. This whole new body…ya..not so much a fan right now. There is little I can do about that right now but accept where I am at in this moment and get through it. Not pussy foot around it. Or try and jump over it. Trudge right through this slime pit. :/ Blarg.

So I accept that I am where I am at.  I am in mourning. There is creepy dungeon music playing out of a massive organ as I am swathed in black attire mourning the loss of what was. What I have worked for my entire life. I worked so hard to achieve greatness, attain perfection. Until I woke up one day and realized this was all wrong. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It’s not supposed to be like this. I was supposed to be happy! And all I felt...was death. So now I must bury those years that are said and done. Dead and gone. Place them in a casket, lower them i to the ground, and place a tombstone (luckily not my own..though it was a close call) above marking the end of sickness- the beginning of life. My life. Not ED’s. Here’s my eulogy to the bastard.

R.I.P

First and foremost, goodbye to my “sick” body. There are times where I really, really miss you. A lot.

Goodbye to forever feeling internally cold- chilled to the bone by uncertain death.

Goodbye to that favored feeling of emptiness- the hollow sensation in my stomach. Pure, clean, beautiful hunger.

Goodbye to the ability to poke and prod and squeeze and feel nothing but skin upon bone.

Goodbye to purple,  paper thin skin always covered in lanugo, bruises, and goose bumps.

Goodbye to the inability to sleep through the night because your body keeps waking up due to it thinking it will not get through the night without nutrients.

Goodbye to THAT size you so longed to be. Goodbye to surpassing that size and having literally nothing fit you. Goodbye to these  “favorite” clothes. Those sizes should be discontinued.

Goodbye to the stares, the raised eyebrows, the frowns, the questions and concerns caused by your appearance. Goodbye to the tears and heartache you bestowed onto those who loved you.

Goodbye to loss of memory, chronic headache and fatigue,  and no recall ability. To the constant war inside your head. To not being able to get through one paragraph, no scratch that, sentence of a book without having to re-read it.

Goodbye to the blood, sweat, and tears devoted to your addiction.

Goodbye to compulsively working towards a slow suicide.

Goodbye to countless hours spent acting out- all the time wasted you will never get back.

Goodbye to the lies. The obsession. The fear. The shame. The guilt. The hatred. The hypocrisy. The torment. The control. The worry. The anguish. THE HELL YOU LIVED IN.

Goodbye to Vogue, US Weekly, People, Women’s Health, Runners Mag, and all the other bullshit out there that should be burned.

To America’s Top Model. Go eat a freaking cheeseburger.

Goodbye to wearing four layers of clothing and still be shivering- lips blue, bones aching.

Goodbye to the theory that less is more. The lower the better-the faster the better-smaller the better.

Goodbye to numbers. Sizes. Measurements. Calorie counting. Label checking. Mirrors. Scales. Fitting rooms.

Goodbye to the digits slowly dropping. Slowly dying. Melting. Evaporating. Disappearing into ashes. These numbers- till death do us part.

Let go~

"Let go and let God."

Why can't I seem to listen to this seeminly simple five word piece of advice?

:/

Choices~

I am NOT good with choices.
Especially when it comes to the choice of where the heck should I work!
The care-taking co-dependend side of me says I should just stay with Target- because I do not want them to be mad that I am ditching them. Plus, it is safe. And I am boring.
The other side of me wants more hours and more money. Thus, I need something different.
But the perfectionist side is scared that I am going to make the wrong choice- screw it up somehow. Since I usually have a good knack for that.
Just when I think I have it all figured out, I find out...oh...I don't.
Shiiiiizzzzzz. What to do what to do....:/
I want a burning bush. I want the voice of God to just YELL out which job I'm supposed to take.
To quote Brittany Spears...."GIVE ME A SIGGGGGN! HIT ME BABY ONE MORE TIME!"
Ohhh gosh..did I just quote Brittany...yes..yes I did. :/

Dessert challenge~

During my time in Arizona in Intensive Inpatient, the facility thought it would be "fun" to give the patients there dessert challenge twice a week...on top of our already monumental meal plans.
I can still see it now- Patients shuffling slowly through the cafe line with panic stricken looks plastered onto their faces.
Only here in an eating disorder treatment facility is eating a dessert, something that is meant to be enjoyed, the equivalent to drinking a vat of poison- a cruel and unusual form of torture. We thought the world would end once the first bite touched our quivering lips.
Needless to say, I am still alive:) The dessert did not kill me. But it is sad for me to admit that I am still very wary of challenging myself to venture out of my safe zone- my meal plan. To go over my designated and "recommended" amount of food is mind blowing to me. It freaks me out......

So the other night my dad, my friend, and I all decided to grab dinner on our way back from a dietitian's appointment I had in Spokane. The appointment went longer than I had anticipated and it was already past dinner time so it was suggested that we stop and grab some grub.
Immediately my heart rate went up-
1. I was going to have to eat...period.
2. I was going to have to eat out....
3. I was going to have to eat out in front of other people
Dang...this recovery thing is challenging..:/
THEN came the business of trying to figure out where the hell we could go~ We finally decided on The Ugly Asian Fish Bistro where my friend works at (and gets a discount!:)
I enjoy sushi...I really do. However, I eat the sushi that is strictly rice and fish. Other human beings are bored by this combo (I cannot fathom why:) and enjoy getting enticing and flavorful dishes and sushi combos.
They scare me.
So we got three different kinds and I very mindfully tried the other two kinds....and yes, decided I enjoy my boring sushi still :)
So dinner went OK without any major mishaps or breakdowns on my part (even though my chopstick skills were sketchy at best.)
I'm all set and good to go....and then the lovely waitress comes and offers us the dessert options. Oh shit...now I feel like I'm simultaneously having a heart attack, my face is on fire, and I just may faint.
Of course my dad and bestie each order a lovely dessert and when it comes out they thoroughly enjoy it, making orgasmic moaning sounds of pure happiness.
Internally, I feel like I'm having a lobotomy. I could moan and cry and beat my fist on the ground with angst. :/
They offer me some...ED yells at me..
"Don't you dare you fat cow!"
Recovery:
"Just one bite won't kill me. I have not done a dessert challenge for months and it would be good to try it. Plus, I did not meet all my needs at dinner."
ED: "Ummm  you met your fat needs faaaaar beyond what you need girl. Give it up piggy."
I shut my eyes and try a bite. Yep, I did it.
ED was not happy. He tried to pull all sorts of crap on me...The whole, oooooh now you have done it! You
in a zillion pounds now that you are completely out of control!
Or..you should really go running tomorrow now to compensate for that dinner and dessert.
SKIP YOUR BEDTIME SNACK YOU FATTY!
All these things were running through my mind. So what did I do? My friend and I headed over to my bestie's house and sat and visited with her late into the night. No running, no starving- just healthy distraction with those who love me and don't care what I look like.
I just wish I could not care what I look like....Some day...Some day I hope ED will be barely a whisper...
Someday I hope I can try a bite of cake...Have my cake and eat it, too. Maybe some day~

Boundries~

I knew this was going to happen. I knew it was something I was going to have to face.
I just did not think I would feel this bad.

My mother and I are best friends- soul sistas- kindred spirits.
We also suffer from the same disease
And she is my relapse waiting to happen.
Thus, in the last five months, I have done a lot of work around separating these two twisted, enmeshed, contorted lives and acknowledging that I am not my mother-my mother is not me. I do not have to become my mother though we share the same genes. I can choose not to participate in the activities she engages in that are not beneficial to my recovery.
I am my mother's daughter, but I am not my mother's keeper.
This is really hard for me. I look up to my mother. I LOVE my mother. I would take a bullet for her.
Co-dependent? oooh ya baby :/
I also have a hard time looking at my mother these days- as I have just grown bigger, she seems to be dissipating into the vapor of no return- "Ana"
For many who suffer with Ana, their greatest fear is becoming fat. I must admit, it terrifies me. A lot. Vain, I know. I cannot justify it, or wish it away.
But there is a concern that runs deeper than the blood that courses my veins:
The fear of losing my mother to this insidious disease. The fear that I have impacted my brothers or anyone else in a negative way.
I cannot control my mother. I cannot anticipate or worry what will happen to her or others. All I can control is my actions to situations. So when my mother and I have a lovely discussion and I state my boundaries and she gets pissed, I have to keep on. I can't starve away the guilt, I can't take my anger out on the situation by running my body into the ground. I acknowledge that she is angry. That it is my words that caused her this pain. But I also play back the tape. Was what I said respectful? I own what I own and leave the rest. So instead of letting ED get the best of me, I get my hair dyed with my brother's girlfriend and rest in the peace that God knows. He is omniscient and all-powerful. I have no power over my mother. Just like she has no power over me anymore. And just like ED is slowly losing power over me.

The illusion of perfection~

I guess you could say that I am a perfectionist.
Ok..that is a minimization. If you look up the word perfectionist in the dictionary..my picture would be right there, with big vertical slashes covering it. 'Cause I SUCK at the whole "perfect" thing.
I HAD to do everything perfectly- school, work, relationships, my faith, my body. I placed this strict criteria on myself, like a crown of poisened thorns. It was my own cross to bear. No one else needed to be perfect for me. I did not wish that on anyone. But for myself- it was all I would accept.
I knew God would love me if I were not perfect. My parents would still maybe love me (though my childhood sent nothing but contrary messages to that statement). Ultimately it came down to me: Could I love msyelf? Could I love the flawed human being that remains when the day was said and done? When I was broken, bleeding, and bruised, crying on the hard, cold floor- desperately searching for that magic pill to take the shame and guilt away- to erase all the horrible things I have done. I was searching for something...anything to distract me. From myself, my fears, my screw ups and weaknesses. From having to accept and admit that I am not perfect.
There is one task I am grateful I could not perform perfectly- the perfection of "Ana", my eating disorder.
 Or else I would be dead.
I suddenly became aware that I no longer had control of my eating disorder- It had control over me. It was time for help. The last five months have been a series of "AHA!" moments for me as I begin this business of recovery~

1. I AM NOT PERFECT
2. NO BODY IS
3. Perfection can only be found in one person-GOD! And I have been minimizing the glorious gift He has bestowed upon the world- His Son, Jesus Christ, whom God sent to take away the sins of the world. He placed them on His PERFECT body and had them nailed to the cross. He took my sin, shame, and wrongdoings away, preventing me from having to suffer the same death He did. So why am I STILL crucifying myself slowly instead of just accepting that it was already done. It is finished.
Because I AM NOT PERFECT. Because I am a flawed human being who cannot comprehend that my Higher Power loves me- maladies and all. I am enough, just the way I am. No matter what size I am, what letter grades turn out to on that transcript, or how many jobs are listed on my resume. God loves me the same today as He did when I was born and had not accomplished A THING in this world, but pooped, ate, and cried. (HECK! I still feel that is ALLLL I DOOO!! HAHA)
And He will love me the same when I die and return to Him when the time comes.
To Him I am enough.

Shopping~

My brother and I went shopping today at the mall. I love spending time with my brother and shopping is one thing that we enjoy doing together. It joins two completely different lives and souls together, as brother and sister. It brings us together and gives us some common ground to share.


While I peruse the sweats and over sized t-shirts, he prods me to try on flowy tank tops and airy summer dresses- Not as "safe" as the sweats, but outfits that will not be too triggering either.


The dressing room is right up there with hell in my perspective.
Long, full body mirrors and shady lighting with sketchy doors that don't shut all the way. I slowly enter into the pits of despair where I "resume the position"(Quickly turned away from the mirror to try on the clothes as quickly as humanly possible yet slow enough NOT to hang myself with all the straps and impale myself with buckles and what not). I then crack the door open a smidgen to show no one else but my brother what my new body looks like in the clothes that are now a MUCH different size than they were five months ago. My brother is non-judgmental. He either squeals in delight or gives it the thumbs down. No comments, no questions, no mocking. I quickly tear off the clothing and replace it with the clothes before, quickly leaving the room. I wish I could leave ED's mocking voice behind there as well.


" Look at ALLLLL this flesh and fat you have put on...woooooo boy...yep, that is one flabbbbby lady there. Mmmmhmmm get a good view of that disgusting-ness."


"Shut the hell up." Some day, I would love to be able to try clothes on without wanting to curl up into a ball and cry. To not give a hoot about how "that" pair of jeans fits differently than just the day before. I want to twirl around, stick my tongue out, and blow off the voice that taunts me mercilessly every time I pass by a reflective surface.
I want to be able to shout:
"FEAST YOUR EYES LOVAAAAAS!!!!!" and feel ok with me.
I don't know if that day will ever come. But for now, I tell myself that I am God's girl...His creation, Made in HIS image. So when I get down on myself for sportin' a booty and "love" handles..(by the way who the HELL made up that name for them..LOVE...HAAAA...bite me...) I will keep that chin up-
"For I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are Your works." Psalm 139:14 <3

The Disease~

In my disease, I had many rules for myself. Listed below are three I clung to.
1. Food=BAD
2. ME=BAD
3.Running, not eating, no sleeping=GOOD

Little did I know that these rules do not sustain life.

2nd semester of Sophomore year is where it all came to a head.

1. I have moved eight times in my life. The hardest move transpired my senior year of high school. Then again when I moved to my college town.
2. My parents separated. My view of marriage forever shattered.
3. I fucked up every relationship I was in. With men, with my friends, with my family- with God.
4. I was so sick and in my disease I had to pull out of school. I would not graduate in four years with my friends. I had failed.
5. I was miserable. Despised myself. Had no idea what the hell I was doing in life. I was powerless over my disease. My addiction. And my life had become unmanageable.

I had wished to become invisible. Be careful what you wish for..you just might get it. I wish I could go back in time and tell that ten year old little girl who had just been told she was fat, that her worth was based on a number, and that she was nothing if you couldn't see bone. If you did not sweat. If you did not bleed. I wish I could have a re-do.
February 17, 2011 I got a chance to have somewhat of that desired re-do.
February 17, 2011 I entered into an Eating Disorder intensive inpatient facility in Arizona.
April 17, 2011 flew to California to continue my treatment in a less intensive facility.
June 24, 2011 returned home to my beautiful family and friends who love me and support me no matter my size, weight, or image. This is my journey. My New Journey.
R.I.P. ED

My addiction~

For me, there were few things that were certain in life.
1. I would always live live in the same town growing up.
2. My parents were the epitomy of marriage, destined to be together forever. My parents were beside God. They were perfect. They would be around forever.
3. I would be a loving mother and attractive wife.
4. I would go to college and graduate in four years tops.
5. Because I am a Christian, I would A. always be happy. B. Never have any problems. C. Know God's plan for my life ALWAYS.

You are all probably laughing at me right now thinking how naive I was. Laugh..laugh till you cry. Because those 5 knowns, contstants, truths were FACTS in my life. I thought they were entirely true. I obviously had not payed attention in science. Because facts are based on humans flawed thinking, their day dreams and ideas they one day decide to try and prove. Science cannot be PROVEN. But I thought my thesis in life was IT. Boy, was I wrong. Still laughing?

I have had an eating disorder as long as I can remember. I can remember being eight years old and placing myself on my first diet. I wanted to be like mommy. Little did I know "mommy" had a problem. It would be years before I found out the scary truth and then I would swear I would never be like her. Unfortunately, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree and at the age of 14, my parents intervened on my first attempt at perfecting my eating disorder. Their attempts failed. I was "ok" for a little. Then I graduated and went to college- I was freeeeeeee. Ah! Freedom...It tasted like...Diet coke, mustard, pickles, splenda and whatever else I could find that was zero calories. Glorious.
It was at school I discovered the beauty of (harp music) the gym. Even more beautiful, was the fact that I had no one there to monitor how many times I went to the gym, what I did there, and the time I spent there. I picked up running. It was like picking up ecstasy or heroine, but without the creepy side affects. It was free, real, AND socially acceptable- even praised. And this was how my drug of choice came to be. It was easy as 1, 2, 3. Or 5 or 6 or heck! 10 miles. It was never enough. I was trapped. Endlessly, hopelessly in love.

Winter

For those who know me, I am named after the season winter. There are several things that are ironic with this statement.

1. I was born in Floria
2. It WAS my parents favorite season for a short time, but now thanks to record breaking snowfalls where we live, they have had their fill of the snow and thus, the season.
3. I hate the cold.

I cannot tolerate it. No seriously. For the last five years of my life, I have been freezing with no hopes in getting warm. No many how many layers I wore or blankets I wrapped my body in, I was chilled to the bone. No amount of tea could warm my innards. I was constantly covered in goose bumps.
No, I don't live in the Arctic Tundra. I wasn't subjected to any overwhelmingly cold climates in those five years. The truth is, it was my fault! I subjected myself to years filled with misery and mystifying self-harm that only I could understand. It was I who held on to my eating disorder.
For years I was fighting a losing battle no one could see on the outside- it was all in my head. I was David trying to stone a Goliath, my eating disorder. The problem was, I thought I could beat down this demon by myself, with my own strength, without the help of anyone. I couldn't understand why Goliath just kept getting bigger and louder in my head as I progressivly grew weaker and weaker. What I did not understand is David didn't slay the giant- God did. But I didn't want God's help. In fact, I didn't want anyones help. I wanted to be invisible. Inconspicuous. A small whisper in an immense crowd.
"Drown me out," I beg. My inner self is a stark contrast. I crave your praise. I seek your acceptance. I need to know that I am noticed and not only liked, but loved. This side of me is selfish I have been told. It never got what it needed as a little girl. The two parents could not be there for me in the way that little girl needed. So in order to shut up that little girl who was screaming for a voice, searching for recognition- I starved her.