sixteen hours alone

last week shook me off the tight rope.

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the weirdness started on wednesday. i woke up thinly veiled in sadness. i spent the majority of the day working my mind around the reasons why. nothing really came up. i got frustrated and panicky and desperate.

soo i up and drove eight some odd hours to san diego to stay the weekend with my best friend. it was a much needed get away. much.

unfortunately, i’m still sad. but. now i know why.

eight hours there and eight hours back gave me a lot of time to think and sing really loudly and really obnoxiously. something like sixteen or so hours. i thought some funny thoughts. some sorrowful thoughts. weird thoughts. insightful thoughts.

the insightful thoughts are what i want to share. i spent a lot of time working over my emotions. the full moon fucked with some energy. PMS too (you guys. i cycled up with the moon cycle. wtf?) also, recently, the urge to binge has returned. the effortlessness of the past month and a half stalled, easy happiness right along with with it. i understand happiness cannot be constant (in fact, i don’t think it should be. that’s a thought for later.). however, the lack of enthusiasm and the sinking sadness are way too familiar and kind of scare me. troublesome thoughts that kind of scare me float into my consciousness sometimes now. that tightness is back, the one where it feel like i am a step away from the edge of some terrible uncontrollable, unknown. it’s like i’m hunkering down for the next storm.

the truth is this: i did not treat myself well last week. at all. far too little movement despite my body’s asking for it. far too many indulgences. far too many “steps back”. as a result, i am jumpy, unsettled, confused, and totally scared (on top of scared and deeply frustrated).

on the ride home today, i kept thinking about my body. some days i don’t feel it, but today i felt it. i still feel it. all the extra weight. all the emotion i am holding onto. often when i think about my body, i get angry. i get sad. i get weepy reminiscent. thinking about my body always triggers the urge to binge. i am so caught up in body-hatred sometimes. it stresses me out. i am tired of thinking about my body. i am tired of keeping tabs on it. i am tired of not trusting my intuition. i am tired of being angry, of continually fighting an impossible war.

then, a follow up thought:

I AM NOT MAD AT MY BODY: I AM MAD AT WHAT I DID TO IT. WHAT I DID TO IT. I AM MAD AT MY SELF.

you guys.

this is big. (for me anyway).

my therapist likes to tell me the body is neutral, that it reacts to your actions. it didn’t do anything but listen to you. you guys, why am i fighting myself? why am i continually choosing to hurt my body and my self? quite clearly, i am holding onto my past and punishing myself. i am sad i allowed myself to gain so much weight. i’m angry i lost all any sort of control. i’m frustrated and keep taking it out on myself.

i think that, in order to move forward, i need to truly forgive myself. i need to accept that what happened, happened, that every thing i am mad at already happened and i can’t change it. not a single thing. i need to meet myself where i am, now, and not where i dream to be (i don’t know that woman’s needs because i am not that woman. i only know the woman i am, right now). really though, i need to forgive me, just like i might forgive a friend who unintentionally hurt me. i need to stop being so hard on myself and be instead unbelievably kind. it’s time i relax. release. and move on.

this is going to be hard.

namaste

zoe

(p.s: always feel free to weigh in. i am a fan of honest feedback. it’s like a different perspective i can’t see, you know?)

why the holidays are not scary this year

every winter magazines roll out the same old same old.

the articles filled with tips and tricks and advice on avoiding weight gain. the lists upon lists upon fucking lists of eat this not that. instead of “share love and compassion this holiday season” we read “how to look hot this holiday!”. when, i wonder, did the holidays lose their focus on others and turn into focus of the body (not even the self)? no wonder food fills the role of arch nemesis during the holidays. our strict avoid-all-holiday-goodness-to-fit-into-your-jeans standard creates bingers out of non-bingers.

for a really long time the holidays felt like a wicked treat. the once-a-year indulgence in everything your eyes love. the eat and eat and eat because you can and because its there. holiday treats taunted me into a nasty game. especially the treats of the past two years. i dreaded the cakes, the pies, the cookies. the bowls of candies, the sees chocolates, the candied fruits. the words “no, thank you, i’m full” squeezed out through clenched teeth. as i watched my family laugh and smile and eat forkfuls of dessert, i slumped in my chair, swallowing back the waves of pride and envy.

well, we all know what happened when i finally snapped. i ate pie. i ate cake. i ate cookies and chocolate and candy. i ate all the things i stood so high above. and, you know, those magazines were right. my pants stopped fitting. holiday weight gain became something like a new sport, one i basically mastered in a matter of weeks.

however, when you slow down to honestly consider the holiday season and all its gluttonous treats, you’ll see the hysteria isn’t all that real. because, no matter how you dice it, christmas (or whichever special holiday you celebrate) is just another day. one we assign meaning to. one where the meals mean so much more then the day before or the day after. where the foods we eat take on labels like “good” or “bad” to such ridiculous levels of heightened craziness. binge eating on christmas or any other holiday isn’t that fun. feeling sick and bloated and uncomfortable isn’t what the holidays are about. right? plus, pie is avaliable all year round anyway. so are cake, cookies, chocolate, and candy (just ask me. i know all about it.). so why do we continuously make holiday desserts out to be hit men after our own bodies? pie is just fucking pie.

for the first time in years i am not scared of the holidays. i am not terrified of over eating (i didn’t on thanksgiving!) or gaining weight. i’m not thinking about what to eat. i’m not thinking about counting calories. i’m not thinking about doing anything other than what i’ve been doing: eating how i like to eat and moving how i like to move. i’m not treating this holiday season as anything other than a special time i get to celebrate the love in my life. there will be no battles of will-power fought this year. this realization alone left me so god damn happy. PIE ISN’T SCARY OR CONTROLLING!

this christmas i encourage you to give up the magazine chatter. i encourage you to listen to your intuition, your inner guide, to bring you to the right choices for you. if you want dessert, eat dessert. if you don’t, then don’t. just don’t sacrifice what you really want in order to fulfill the rules someone else wrote.

namaste

zoe

(p.s: by the way, i kind of feel like i need to clarify something. i am IN NO WAY SHAPE OR FORM saying that i am better than anyone. i am not saying that all magazines suck. if you happen to get a lot of comfort from them, then that’s great! what i am saying is don’t live in fear of the holidays. don’t subscribe to someone else’s way of living if it just doesn’t suit you.

p.p.s: i really hope that came across.

p.p.p.s: i think it goes without saying, but the photos are mine. please don’t steal )

ride that (emotional) wave

it’s seven thirty nine on a wednesday evening.

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i woke up to the alarm around 8:30, bleary eyed and bleary headed. heavy blinking ensured. heavy moods followed. i woke up weighted. not down so deep that looking at people hurt. not so down that reminders to breathe sounded. but down enough to physically drag some.

i am half-way sick (i lost count of how many times i sneezed today), uninspired (nothing i am writing is coming out logically), unmotivated (why am i avoiding my yoga mat?), and just bleak.

no one wants to listen to a whiner, i know. i’m working my way to a point though. scout’s honor.

eight hours of the day found themselves devoted to ringing up customers. (the monotony of retail kills my soul. stories for another day). eight hours also found themselves steeped in a slew of different emotions.

today i felt:
depressed
anxious
unappreciated
happy
witty
charming
restless
envious
jealous
(and — i know they’re not feelings but:…ugly, fat, and pretty).

emotional musical chairs is just the shit.

(sarcasm ^)

right now, i am alone. the nails on my right hand are shorter now and the cuticles a bit more tender. about half an hour ago, before i started writing, i felt the stirrings of a binge in pit of my stomach (it always starts there). it inched up my chest, settled in the hollow of my throat (it always ends there). it propelled me into the kitchen and i stood there a second, something akin to a little girl sneaking midnight cookies from the kitchen: do it or don’t do it? (i’m happy to say “don’t do it” happened).

lemme say: i am so very thankful for words. every day. i am not very talented or passionate about many things to stick with them past their initial beginnings. writing may be the only constant thing i do. it helped me reach the improved mood i am in right now (it usually does). today, the more i settled into a writing flow, the more the thoughts brought by my very favorite house guest, anxiety, slowed. i asked myself “where am i tense?”. i relaxed and breathed into the tight spots. guess what? binge avoided. a roommate just walked in. the picking stopped. i’m breathing softly.

i’m starting to see that, maybe, that’s all it takes: a moment to feel what you’re feeling, breathe into and thorough it, only to end up on the other side in one piece. each time you breathe into the sadness, the frustration, and the pain, you breathe in space for new energy, light, and love. all it takes is a moment.

i think i can do that.

namaste

zoe

(p.s: i really, reeaaaaaally urge you to check out the blockhead radio station on pandora. it’s. super. dope!)

another perspective

first: wow dude.

why did i always assume no one picked her cuticles? it sounds like a lot of us share the (apparently way common) self-soothing habit of picking. weird how people can develop similar strategies of coping miles away from each other. see? we’re all connected somehow.

i digress…

second: i am learning to flip the perspective more fluidly.

it used to be second nature to immediately sink into negativity. dragging myself down when i was already down made sense. you know? but now i question every negative thought. i try to see the positive, if only to try and drag myself up and out of the hole i am digging.

last night i basically binged really hard and purged. thoughtlessly. eventually i rolled myself into bed, sick-full, half sugar-comaed, and fucking deeply disappointed. where did the urgent binges come from? what hole did they crawl out of to sabotage me?

i expected to wake up sad. depressed. murky. destructive. somehow though, i managed to stand up. i managed to shower. i managed to withhold judgement. i managed. without getting attached to (i.e: becoming) my emotions. i also managed to have a bit of a tough-love talk with myself…

i took my feeling better for granted. i definitely used the positive space to excuse negative behavior. like over eating and not calling it a binge. like allowing myself to skip meals and calling it normal. like indulging in foods i know make me feel sick and calling it okay. no more excuses. health and happiness require attention in the early days of its blossoming. shrugging off unhealthy behaviors is like shruggling off responsibility. people will not always be there to slap your wrist and tell you to knock it off. if we are unable to build solid foundations, we’ll all eventually crumble. health and happiness, i’m starting to see, require diligence. especially right now, while i am building my foundation.

and, right now, i am torturing myself slowly by refusing to give up small habits severing me no purpose. it feels like i’m losing my proverbial last “five to ten pounds”. you know? it’s the stubborn habits that won’t shed themselves from me. i floated away there for a second. beginning the process of regrounding myself today.

one of the best ways to flip the perspective? look through a different lens! (yes! win for pun-ey camera jokes!) but, really, i am falling (back) in love with photography. did i mention i took it in high school and for a semester in college? black and white film. now-a-days i shoot more on the digital side. regardless, it helps frame the world for me in brighter hues.

today i flip the perspective.
no more fear.
no more hostility.
no more bullshit.
just a gentle, mindful awareness.

today’s the day i start over.

namaste

zoe

(p.s: all photos are mine. please don’t steal.

p.p.s: all photos came from my iphone. camera-camera photos coming soon.

p.p.p.s: anyone else on instagram? come find me. @zofasho.)

music mondays + a little awareness

it’s monday.

i’m not feeling very creative. just. kind of sleepy and desperate.

because, well. i did it. i purged for the first time in over a month. after the uncomfortable visit, i cried. for two hours. i felt awful. still not feeling wonderful. slip ups inevitably occur, i know. i understand life continues afterward, too. i think a shopping-trip on saturday trigged all of these feelings. no, it definitely did.

the more i test my limits, boundaries, and patience, the more i realize how awful i am at implementing self-soothing techniques. sometimes i manage. sometimes i take a walk, breathe deeply, call a friend, or do yoga. sometimes i squeak by without snagging myself on my worries.

other times though, when i convince myself i simply cannot sit with the emotion slowly chewing down sanity, i turn to other, less healthy coping mechanisms. like eating. we all know i eat. something else i do?

i pick at my fingers. till the tugs produce blood. till it hurts to touch anything. sometimes till infection. the funniest thing? i just realized this was a coping mechanism today. i tore apart my fingers last night and haven’t really stopped since waking. if you couldn’t tell, i’m trying really hard to direct my focus to thoughts outside of bingeing. i’m trying to find new ways to help me cope. new, healthy, unpainful ways. because i can’t do this anymore, just like i can’t eat myself to tears anymore.

how do you cope? what helps you?

and for the music portion of the day…

i woke up singing this. i don’t know why i love this song but i seriously do.

meet virginia by train

namaste

zoe

lemme update ya

haaappy november!

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two things:

i haven’t binged in one whole, solid week.

effortlessly.

i made soup!

but more on that later…

okay, three things:

what the fuck, how is it november already?

namaste

zoe

self-love sunday

did i ever tell you how much i love sundays?

sundays feel like starting over.

sunday possesses this strange healing effect. a calm atmosphere, too. plus, i never work sundays or mondays. sundays are like good cheer all around.

i spent yesterday in san francisco listening to music at the hardly strictly bluegrass festival. i got to listen to robert plant (!!!! have i ever mentioned my serious love for led zeppelin?). it introduced me to buckethead. i spent time with high school friends i rarely see. i danced. i ate three meals yesterday. i am thankful.

a lot happened internally this week. i reacted to situations differently. i felt unfamiliar emotions. like when my friend decided to end our friendship. or like when i realized my other friends left for the dance club without me (allthetime). or when another friend ignored my phone calls and text messages.

clearly, i have great friends.

but really, in situations like this, usually i automatically feel tense. i think, over and over, ‘what did i do? what did i do?‘ i get sick with anxiety, all shaky limbs and upset stomach till i can settle the ‘issue’.

this time i didn’t feel anxious. i never once though, ‘what did i do?’ this time i just smiled. literally. somewhere, deep down there in my heart of hearts, i knew, instinctively that none of this had anything to do with me. none of this is an issue. it is all my friends being stubborn and wrapped up in their own thoughts, ones that are completely separate from me.

and guess what? i am still happy. i am still smiling. yes, i binged and purged this week. but not out of reaction to my friends. i know i am not healed completely, and i know i will most likely have to deal with this my whole life, but today i feel strong and stable. i feel settled and happy although most things in my life should be bringing my down rightaboutnow.

i think i’m just trying to see life through a softer, brighter lens.

and that’s all i’ve got for you today. things are changing. i’m excited to share with you. but i’ve got no time and a northern california coast to drive up (for no real reason other than ‘i want an adventure!’ popped into my head the second i woke up this morning).

have a beautiful sunday and be well. you deserve it <3

best part of your week? best realization?

namaste

zoe

(p.s: oh, and guess whaaaat? my birthday is in twenty days. exactly. but who’s counting )

this is weird but…

i couldn’t have a bad day today if i tried.

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i can’t stop the positive thought after positive thought. i almost feel possessed. certainly not my “normal” self.

i can’t stop thinking.

something inside broke open.

it keeps gushing out lucid thoughts.

here i am, trying to describe it and where it all came from but i somehow can’t manage a coherent string of words.

why?

i’m not sure.

it could be the skirt i bought yesterday and am wearing today. it’s soft and loose. it makes me feel pretty. i guess i feel comfortable.

or, it might be the lady at the grocery store earlier who smiled at me. then said, “oh my god! your tattoo just gave me the best idea!”

i looked at my wrist. smiled. “what kind of idea?”

while she shared i realized she noticed my tattoo. my wrist. not the stomach i think everyone scrutinizes. or the extra flesh.

for moments at a time i keep jumping into rational thought. i think, “oh man, eat while you’re calm” because i keep eating during moments like this, not tasting with mind racing and i can’t wait to finish lunch because i am so eager to writewritewrite i shake.

or it could be because i keep, quite literally, stumbling over thoughts i don’t get a second to overview before i think them.

like when i threw trash on the floor of my car earlier. caught myself thinking, “man, do i seriously need to do that? i’m just making more work for myself later on.” and that was kind of like, whoa, what the fuck, where did that come from?

it seems as if i am embracing of change. it feels wild. i feel wild.

because then i got to thinking, “ugh, all i want for lunch is some dark chocolate, almond butter, and a tangerine.” which lead me to think, “that’s not a real lunch.” which drove me to consider eating something completely opposite and completely insubstantial. all of this jumpstarted a thought that did not at all feel like my own: “just eat what you want. otherwise, you might end up eating all the things you don’t really want.” it seriously struck me dumb.

it was like finally understanding something i knew all along.

i need to move and i need change like i need a new perspective. i need different air, different people, different conversations. i need life. not uncomfortable comfort.

recently a friend told me he feels i am squandering my potential. he believes i am worthy of bigger and better things than a job at REI. he believes i am wasting time in a town i don’t belong in. at first i took offense to it. i wondered how and why a (best) friend would say something so obviously mean. i only kept thinking “my goal is to be happy. and i am. why can’t they see that?”

last night, however, changed my entire view. of everything. my roommate, smart guy that he is, flipped the perspective for me. he said, “hey man, think of it as coming from you parents, from people who love you and want the best for you. don’t think of it as a bad thing. your friends just want to see you do the things you actually want to do.”

and, just like that, i understood.

in this town, i am stunted. not progressing. not opening. not embracing. i am barely breathing. i am in this town still, where all of this bullshit developed. i am treading over the same, deeply worn paths. i am thickening the already thick grooves of routine. am i really happy here? when i stop to consider the question, i only get one answer: no, not really.

my friends are right. i am worthy of bigger and better things.

i hate sitting amongst friends who share, back and forth, back and forth, stories of life. of living. meanwhile i mute myself in the corner. if anyone asks me, “how’s everything? what’s up?” the same answer comes out. first i shrug my shoulders. then i smile. and then i drone, “it’s good. same old. just working and hanging out.”

i leave out the “oh, you know, just overandoverandoverandover.”

because who wants to hear stories about me, hanging out alone, on the couch, with my computer and a pile of food? who wants to hear stories about how all that food comes up later and i stumble into bed, with brain foggy and oh-so-desperately tired limbs.

it’s getting tiring. it’s getting unbearable.

furthermore, i don’t want to look back on my youth and see days wasted on food. i don’t want to see moments passed up because i felt insecure and uncomfortable. i don’t want to think of all the life i missed out on. you don’t get this time back.

so i am rolling the dice on ‘change begets change’.

i am going to start packing. because i am going to start planning. things are happening. i am shaking off that shell of myself, that dried and useless layer. this isn’t life. and i can’t stand to live another second in this non-life i’ve created. change doesn’t just come to you. you’ve got to make it.

i have no patience for this bullshit anymore.

namaste

zoe

(edit: unfortunately, this night is ending now, it seems, on a lame note. a friend just told me he can’t be friends with me anymore and i just puked my guts up. i’m not…unhappy. just. wickedly disappointed. time for a long, long late night bike ride.)

self-love sunday

it’s raining.

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i feel dark and explosive.

and vaguely nauseous.

if gaining weight was a competition, i’d win gold medal every time.
if eating and eating and eating was a job, i’d be the president and CEO.
if self-pity was a class, i’d ace it.

i know this blog is dedicated to recovery, which means including all the nasty bits this process has, but i am tired of feeling like all i do is whine. i don’t know what you all see, but i see someone creating her own misery and resisting, stubbornly, the change necessary for, well, change.

i don’t feel good about this week. i don’t feel myself winning. i just feel myself expanding. sinking. flailing. i feel trapped. i’m scared this is going to be my forever. i’m terrified food will always control my life. i’m anxious i will never love my body or my self. i keep asking myself, “is this it?”

dark thoughts from months passed continually creep up from the dark place i stuffed them into. during conversations with friends. right before i fall asleep. at work in the moments between helping customers. i am too preoccupied and distracted to actually live life. which makes me feel like a waste.

change is coming. i know it is. or, rather, i have to believe it is. otherwise, i think i might lose my mind.

namaste

zoe

cycling

not anxious anymore.

just…kind of numb.
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i am caught in a cycle. it feels routine.

i am equal parts ambivalent and raging.

i am so caught up in black and white i can either not have something or only have it all. there is no middle ground in my life. most days i wake up feeling defeated. unmotivated. huge. i wake up knowing nighttime will bring a binge with its darkness. i know because i think thoughts like “well, i’m already fat. what’s the fucking point?” i binge because i am depressed about my body. then i binge because i am depressed i binged the day before. then i binge because i am depressed i binged the day before and the day before that.

see the cycle?

i day dream about spending hours at the gym. i day dream about what i might look like after losing weight. i day dream about food. i lose track of conversations because my mind wanders. i ask “what?” one too many times. i am thinking, always, of how i look.

as much as i keep trying to convince myself i am healing, progressing, and, striding forward, deep down i feel like a liar. i am trying in vain to talk myself into something that isn’t really true. i want it to be true. but you can’t want something into reality.

so instead of feeling, i tune out. this feels like not giving a shit. this feel like caring so much you don’t know what to do. and this always feels overwhelming. i don’t even think i know how to tune in any more.

namaste

zoe