Beginnings

I have this urge to relate every moment that has happened to me this year. In pain staking detail. I want to divulge into my mind, into my heart, into my very soul and lay it down for you to read like a book. I long to be engulfed and understood. For my heart to beat at the exact time with all of you so that for once, I do not feel alone. I got out of the shower and as I wandered toward my dresser searching for something to put on I allowed myself to be consumed by my thoughts. I didn't prevent them from venturing off or warn them away if they darted toward unwanted alleys. I just let them go.

I went out of town this weekend with my family and I was in a hotel room with my sister. I took my shirt off and my head band that hides my ridiculous bald spot came off and I bent down to pick it up. My sister yelled at me and said she hated that she could see my spine. I reached and touched my back and yelled "I'm a dinosaur!" and she just laughed and called me crazy. My left-over eating disorder self smiled inside of me. You can't tell I'm losing weight but I am. It was bound to happen. I don't eat. I'm not trying to starve myself. Food just isn't appealing.

I want to talk about inappropriate things. Things that I shouldn't want to discuss. Things that I should want to keep private. Or in the very least only want to talk about with my best friend. But I've seemed to have been broken. I've lost so much control on everything. I want to create beauty out of despair.

I climbed a mountain this weekend. Okay, I lie. But it might as well have been a mountain. I have no strength. But I willed myself up there. I fell and tears were streaming down my face every step of the way. It was painful and it was so very hard. But I made it. And Matt Maher's "Empty and Beautiful" played loudly in my ears.

Have you ever petted a fly? I have.

I have to start new.