Breaking Rules and Taking Names.

2 weeks of rehearsals for "The Burnt Part Boys", done and DONE.  This process has been amazing so far.

The other day we had our sitzprobe - for those of you who don't know, that is the first rehearsal with the band.  It was 5 hours of going over music, making sure every sound level was perfect, and that the cues all lined up.  It sounds tedious, but it was during that rehearsal that I realized this is the most fun I've had doing a show since RENT (the last golden summer before Emily took up permanent residence in my brain.  And to be honest, it was already happening that summer, it just hadn't completely taken over my life).  This realization was a big one for me.  Sure, since RENT I've been in incredible productions with amazing people.  I've had experiences I wouldn't trade for the world, but there was always something there.  Now I know that veil that was clouding every aspect of my life was Emily's voice playing on a constant loop of negative self talk.  Because of this unrelenting stream of hatred, she and I created (ultimately pointless) tactics to keep the self loathing at bay...

Food Rules. 

The rules didn't start out very strict.  In fact, if you asked me how I ate before my ED, I probably wouldn't be able to tell you.

So she and I crafted these rules that became stricter and less forgiving as time went on, but the number one rule was always "don't let anyone know you have rules."  That's why I was plagued with crippling embarrassment when someone accidentally used my Madeline plate and I had to confront them about it.  Or if I had to eat lunch earlier than 2 pm to accommodate someone else, causing me to snap and make a vicious comment. I didn't want anyone to know how deeply I cared.  How intensely important these rules had become for me.

When I first started defying food rules, it was terrifying.  I felt like the floor had been ripped away from me and I was falling into nothingness.  The lack of control was agonizing.  There were a few that forced me to go into the bathroom prior and following just to talk myself into doing it, then to calm myself down afterwards.  But there was always one constant...the world didn't end.  I was fine.

Now, I love it.  It creates a high in me unlike anything I've ever experienced.  I used to have feelings of guilt about every single thing that passed through my mouth, and that doesn't happen anymore.  It is an act of defiance against Emily, and when I am able to define it as a victory, it feels glorious.  

Some things are way harder than others, and I am not breaking food rules left and right at every meal every day of the week.  Somewhere along the way these compulsions became ingrained into my psyche, and that is hard to break!  It is still extremely difficult for me to eat dessert with other people, especially early in the day.  I have yet to sit down with a bag of chips and not portion myself out an allotment on a plate.  But I have broken quite a few of the rules, and it never gets old.  Just yesterday I went with my friend Miriam to Dough in Tampa, to celebrate National Doughnut Day (a very important holiday).  It may seem silly that going to place for a random treat at a random time of day with a friend is a huge deal but, in my book, it's a victory.  I believe that food rules are a bad thing...something that is put in place by disordered thinking and can spiral out of control.  In my perfect world, there would be no food rules.  Because with no food rules, there is no guilt, and with no guilt there is no self loathing.  Only self love and acceptance. 

  

Peace, love, and doughnuts fah dayz.
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It's These Oblivious Blues...

Hey pretty people.  Sometimes I feel silly writing things like my "100 reasons to recover" or my ~inspirational poetry~ because I am in the throes of recovery just like the people I am trying to help with these posts.  I am going through it.  I have not overcome it.  Every single day is a battle. Before I really get started discussing things I want to say that I am NOT in ANY WAY fishing for compliments with this post.  These are just my thoughts and feelings and I want to put them out there to let people know that they are not alone if they are having bad days.

The other day was particularly bad.  If you've never dealt with depression, it's very hard to comprehend.  I highly recommend reading "Hyperbole and a Half" (not only the blog, but the book) to get a better grasp on going through depression in this day and age.  It explains it incredibly well and with plenty of humor.  I read the book in one sitting (on the floor of the 82nd St. Barnes and Noble in Manhattan after a particularly harrowing therapy session on a cold winter's night.  Nothing like it getting dark at 5pm in NYC to bring out all the sadness burritos).  It strangely made me feel a lot better, just because I knew that I wasn't alone.  There was at least one person out there who was feeling things similar to how I was feeling, and since she was able to get a book published about it, odds were that there were a slew of other people having those feelings too!

Due to recovery, my brain chemistry is all whack-a-doodle right now.  If anyone out there in the universe really believes that eating disorders are NOT mental disorders, they can just come play with me for a week and then reevaluate their life decisions.  It's so frustrating and so hard to constantly be trying to rise above the feelings of self-loathing and hatred that cloud my vision day in and day out.  You're probably thinking "But KT, you never seemed like that to me!!" Awesome!  That is because the self-loathing manifested itself in a different way (I...starved myself. So. There's that). Self-love is a thing I am working on with every ounce of strength I can muster, and the other day I just couldn't do it.  Feelings of worthlessness were keeping me glued to my bed, and I was pretty positive that everything would just be better if I disappeared completely. I didn't have motivation to do anything. I know now that that was Emily talking (Emily is the name I gave my disorder, for those of you who don't know), but boy was she loud.  It was like there was a running track of her just repeating the word "worthless, worthless, worthless" in my ear.  That, my friends, is exhausting.

As I was spiraling into oblivion, I heard the "doo-doo" of a facebook notification.  It was my friend Matt commenting on the private group I created in 2011 for my beautiful, amazing cast of "Spring Awakening" that I directed my senior year of college.  Of course we are all still in the group (as Andy put it "WHY ARE WE ALL STILL IN THIS GROUP? *stays in group*") , and of course I scrolled through all the past posts, and then the pictures, and I realized that if I hadn't been around, this amazing experience would never have happened for those 13 other people who are still in that group.  I did it. It was my baby, and it is still the most incredible thing that has ever happened to me.

So of course, the moral of the story is that none of us are worthless.  It may seem like I have learned my lesson.  That I'm going to go outside and do some paddle turns in the streets because life is looking up!!  That's not really how it works, though.  Just know that sometimes getting out of bed is a huge triumph.  That looking out the window is enough to justify a nap. That you deserve to cry, you deserve to rest, and you definitely deserve to eat.  No matter what, you are worthy.  There's a lot that has happened in this world because you exist.

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