effortlessly perfect

{November 18, 2012}   Tired

Sometimes I just want to be done. Done thinking, doing, wishing, fearing, feeling. Sometimes I just want it all to stop.


{November 17, 2012}   Responsibility & such

Why am I always the responsible one? The one who thinks of others, pays all of her bills on time, never forgets a birthday, and analyzes every decision to make sure it logical, responsible and mature. I don’t start laundry when someone is in the shower. I balance my checkbook a couple times a week. I start my Christmas shopping in October to make sure I fine the perfect presents for my loved ones. I get the oil changed in my car at the exact moment it tells me too. And I never go into an express lane with more items than I’m supposed to have.

Obviously I’m a rule follower and do my best to be a people pleaser too. To be honest though, the whole thing makes me sad. You see, I never really had much of a childhood. I was forced to be grown up, responsible and unemotional at a very young age. I was taught that emotions or needs were selfish, so I worked hard at not having any. I got pretty good at it and really didn’t know any different at the time.

But, lets just say that now I’m realizing just how fucked up I am because of it. Gotta go…. More on this later.

{November 13, 2012}   Why?

Why do I let everyone take advantage of me? Why do I spend all my time with people who take advantage of me anyway? Why don’t I respect myself more than this? Speak up and stand up for myself? I don’t get it. But it’s starting to piss me off.

{September 6, 2012}   the truth

The truth is…

  • my smile hides a constant frown
  • my confidence masks self-doubt and an intense fear of failure
  • thoughts of weight and appearance are never-ending
  • i try to create the illusion of perfection, to distract myself (and everyone else) from the chaos that is my reality
  • most people would think of me as innocent, polite, and well behaved, but i have secrets that are eating me alive inside
  • i have a headache every day that never goes away. i have taken so many painkillers for it that i’ve eroded the lining of my stomach
  • i believe that life would be so much better if i were skinny
  • i have many friends, but don’t feel as though i can be honest or truly myself with any of them
  • i fake strength, but truly believe i am weak
  • i am becoming quieter and quieter, often times preferring to be alone
  • sometimes i wonder how much pain i can actually take before i give up
  • i hate crying and try to never let anyone see me cry
  • i pretend to have my shit together, when i really feel as though everything is falling apart inside
  • i question everything i say and do, but try not to show that to anyone
  • i live my life by the “shoulds”
  • i don’t believe i’ll become much of anything in life, failing to reach my potential, whatever that means
  • i worry about everything. constantly
  • i wonder if i will ever let anyone truly see the real me. i’m not sure they could handle it. or i could handle thinking about what they think of me.












{August 27, 2012}   This might hurt a little

You know those times when you feel like you are standing at the edge of a cliff and are just staring out in front of you. The bright blue sky ahead of you, with the never ending fall below you. Butterflies fill your stomach and you take deep breaths to quiet your rapid heartbeat. You feel as though you might be better off just standing at the edge of the cliff for a while. Or forever. But you can’t. No matter how much you want to or pretend as if it is for the best, you can’t just stand there anymore.

You have to leap. Forward. Into the unknown. You may fall. A lot. You may float or soar. You may hit a bump or two on your way down… Or up. You really have no way of knowing what is ahead. The only thing you know for sure is that you can’t stay where you are.

So you take that last deep breath, close your eyes, and take the step.

I was chatting with my doctor last week and we were talking about how much I turn to unhealthy behaviors to calm my emotions, distract myself, make myself feel better, soothe my anxiety, etc. She asked me if the behaviors actually made me feel better or served their purpose, and if they did, for how long? She encouraged me to make a list of other things that I could turn to when I would normally turn to these unhealthy behaviors. I’m very good at trading one unhealthy behavior for another, but struggle with finding healthy options to serve these same needs.

I would love, love, love to hear your thoughts on this and any suggestions you might have for what might help or could go on my list!  Do you have similar issues?  What has or hasn’t worked for you?  No suggestion is too big, small, silly, serious, expensive, or frivilous! 🙂

{December 11, 2011}   a few simple words

So, last night I had a dream. So vivid and honest that I woke up with my heart racing. I don’t normally think twice about my dreams, regardless of what happens in them. My husband talks about his dreams, trying to analyze them and figure out what they mean… I normally listen lovingly and then tell him that it probably means nothing or a combination of little things that he really shouldn’t worry about.

But this dream was different. And honestly, it is taking more than a little courage to share it on my blog this morning. I’m not sure why. Maybe because it includes a real person in my life… who I’m pretty sure represented something more than himself in the dream. Or that I’m nervous about what people will think of my interpretation. Or that I’ll read this in a week and think that I was being crazy or dramatic. Maybe it was just a dream that meant nothing. Something to look past or get over. Maybe. But for some reason I don’t think so. One thing I’ve learned throughout this process is to trust your gut… and if it makes you nervous or uncomfortable that it’s probably something worthwhile to do.

So, here goes…

The dream started with a group of us sitting around a table playing cards. It looked like we were probably at a bar or out in a busy, social setting. I was drinking (one of my new and current vices), along with all of the people at the table. We were all having fun, talking, and being pretty free with the language and topics of conversation. Nothing terrible, just a little more loose than I normally am. A couple minutes into the dream, a couple guys join us at the table… one of which (get this!) was my therapist… I know, it sounds crazy, not quite what I was expecting either… especially if you know him. 🙂

So, anyway, the scene starts getting a little crazier, people start doing shots and getting a little wild. My therapist is sitting a couple chairs away from me and is letting me do my thing. I know he’s aware of everything I’m doing, but I can tell that there is no judgement or negative thoughts. It’s almost like he’s just there to actually see me during my time of pain… how I react, what it looks like, watching me numb the pain, and try to get outside of myself. His presence makes me uncomfortable, because I know he knows what I’m doing. I know he knows that this isn’t healthy and that my actions are because of my pain and hurt. He knows me and knows what I’m doing. Yet he just sits there, playing cards, and chatting with the other people at the table. And although his presence bothers me and makes me think about what I’m doing, it’s also surprisingly calming. As if I’m not alone. As if there is someone who knows what I’m going through and doesn’t want me to be so destructive with myself. I don’t feel like I can actually explain it… but it just felt loving and calm.

So, the night continues and I fight the urge to give in and take care of myself. The shots keep coming, the conversation gets raunchier, and my mind (as it normally does) starts going to mush.  People are coming and going, music is playing, lights get a little blurry, and I can feel myself starting to spiral.  The pain is too deep. The feelings are too much. I don’t want to know my name. I just want to escape. This scene is way too familiar, especially lately.  Complete avoidance, no matter the cost.

As things start getting crazy, I see my therapist stand up with his friends. He says they are leaving, as they start to gather their things. Part of me is thrilled that he’s leaving, so the shame and guilt I feel can be forgotten (if only temporarily). Part of me is pissed… I thought he was going to take care of me. How could he leave me when I am clearly a mess? When I obviously need something to drag me out of here?  And part of me is too wasted to think anything.

He shakes the hands of my friends and the other people at our table, saying it was nice to meet them and to have a good evening. He then takes my hand. He holds it tight and looks me in the eyes. He says a few short words that I will never forget. Words that are so simple, yet spoke deep into my heart. Words that currently have my heart beating rapidly even as I type. As he held my hand, he looked me in the eyes and simply said “Take care of yourself. I love you.”  And with that, he let go and walked out the door.

His words and touch startled me. The room stopped spinning. The music silenced in my head. I simply sat there, soaking in the calm. I wanted everything to start again… I wanted the noise, the alcohol, the chaos, the numbness. I wanted his hand and his words to mean nothing. To be easily forgotten. To be written off.  But the silence overwhelmed me. It cut through the crazy night like a knife. A gash too deep for me to ignore.

I sat in the silence for a couple minutes, as I watched him walk out the door. My friends, oblivious of what had just happened or how it affected me, poured the next round of shots and threw them back without missing a beat. It was like I was watching a movie…. no sound, no feeling, just pictures.  I wanted a shot. I wanted to join my friends again. But for some reason I couldn’t. Not tonight. Not right now. I knew I would again in the future. And I knew that no matter how much I wanted to stay and get blasted beyond belief. I knew I couldn’t. I wasn’t going to.

I slowly pushed my chair away from the table and quietly waved good night to my friends, kissing some of them on their heads and hugging them on my way to the door.  I opened the door, getting hit by the cold night air and quiet sky. My therapist and his buddies were only a little ways from the door. He hadn’t been waiting for me, but turned around as soon as I stepped onto the sidewalk. He didn’t make a big deal of my presence. He didn’t run to hug me or smile and jump up and down. He simply waited for me to walk to him and reached out for my hand when I got close. There were no words exchanged, but he looked into my eyes and spoke deep into my heart.

When I woke up this morning, I remembered my dream as if it had been real. Every noise, smell, sound, word, and feeling, as if it had truly happened. It’s hard for me to even begin to think about what the dream meant or why I had it. And although I often times try to push away or overlook the presence of God in things (a horrible habit, I know!), it’s hard for even me to ignore it here. By the end of the story, I wanted to start capitalizing Him and He when I typed about my therapist. While I think my therapist is great, I truly feel he represented Jesus in my dream. The lack of judgement, the constant presence, the peace and calm, and the opportunity for free will. He doesn’t force us. He lets us choose. He loves us unconditionally and never turns His back. He welcomes us with open arms no matter how broken we are. No matter how many bad choices we’ve made. No matter how many times we’ve tried to pull away.

I don’t know what this dream will mean in the long run. If it will affect my path, recovery, and faith. I hope it does. I pray that it does. I know that it spoke deep into my heart in ways I never thought anything could. I could feel His touch, His words, and His look. I didn’t feel shame or guilt or pain. I didn’t have the urge to look away, when he looked deep into my eyes. I felt loved. That’s something very new for me… to truly feel loved. I still feel it today. His presence is overwhelming… and exactly what I needed. Amen.

{December 5, 2011}   pain

Just when I thought things were about as bad as they could be, they get worse. And the crazy part is, I know I’m far from hitting rock bottom. I don’t understand why I do this to myself. I make crappy choices, knowing that I should be doing something different. The few people who actually know the details encourage me to stop. I know I am fixated on numbing the pain, in whatever way I can find. I know it’s not good. I know it won’t end well. I know that I don’t even know how bad it could get. But yet, my one foot in front of the other is nothing but slow steps to a place I shouldn’t go. A place that I don’t want to end up and that is far from healthy.

But as I type I’m sitting on the couch full of rage. I’m angry, hurt, disappointed, and in so much pain. I don’t know what to do with all of these feelings. I want them to go away. I need something to make me feel better. I need something to make these feelings go away. I don’t want to be like this. I don’t want to be me. I need a different life. I need to get out. It’s way too painful and I feel stuck. There isn’t a way out that doesn’t hurt. That doesn’t bring an incredible amount of pain. Pain that I can’t handle. Pain that I need to avoid.

I want to scream. I want to cry. I want to sleep forever. I want this to be over. Make it stop. Get me out of this. I can’t handle the pain. The shame. The guilt. The feelings of worthlessness. The feelings that I am not and will never actually be loved. I want these feelings to stop. I need them to go away. I can feel the rage and pain making my skin crawl. As if my blood is pumping harder than it ever has. I want to pull my skin off. I want to hit something. Scream. Throw something. Anything. My head is pounding. My eyes hurt. My muscles are tight. Back aching. It’s amazing how feelings and emotions can hurt so physically too. I just need a break. From myself. From this life. I just need a break. I need this to stop. 

{November 18, 2011}   question of the day – 11.18.11

What are your thoughts on addiction transfer?  Do you believe it is a valid concern for addiction recovery?  For those with experience with eating disorders, do you think it relates?  Thoughts or experiences on ways to avoid or prevent it?  Or is it “once an addict, always an addict?”

Please share your thoughts, feelings, opinions, and experiences below…

{November 11, 2011}   more random thoughts…

I realized yesterday that it’s been a while since I’ve posted anything. I’m finding it harder and harder to actually put thoughts together that make sense. I don’t know if I’m avoiding those thoughts or struggling with concentration or being super perfectionistic and not finding anything I want to write about “good enough.”  But for whatever reason, the words just aren’t coming. So, instead of a real post, today I have just more random thoughts…

1. Why are things so easy some days and ridiculously difficult on other days? I’m tired of the rollercoaster.

2. I knew that my eating disorder wasn’t healthy and could lead to medical issues. I always thought that I’d be motivated to stop the behaviors when those medical issues arose. I guess not.

3. Every day that passes makes me realize that this eating disorder is truly an addiction… a way to cope, control and distract myself.  It is fascinating to become aware of how and why I use the eating disorder behaviors. The psychology nerd in me thinks it’s really cool to see how it all plays out, even if I’m my own guinea pig.

4. I wonder what it is going to take for me to actually get better. I’m not really sure I’m in to recovery right now… actually, I’m pretty sure I’m not. But I do wonder what the final straw will be for me. What will make me want to give this up?

5. Even on my crappiest day I know I’ve made progress. Even on days when I cling to my disordered eating, I know that I’m a healthier person. I speak up for myself more. I have taken more of my life back. And I know that deep inside, there is a little piece of me that believes I should be happy. It’s that progress that keeps me putting one foot in front of the other.

6. I am finding myself with this overwhelming urge to run, escape, flee, and otherwise get the hell out of dodge. I want to move… sometimes across town, sometimes to Seattle. I want to quit my job… sometimes to start my own business, sometimes to be a stay at home mom, sometimes to go back to school and become a lawyer. I want to do something I’ve never done before… get a tattoo, go horseback riding, take a hot air balloon ride, go skydiving, take a pole dancing exercise class, learn how to shoot a gun. I want to travel… to Italy, Alaska, a beautiful ranch in Arizona, a log cabin in Maine, New York City… be anywhere but here.

et cetera