Self Destruction

by MB

I'm worried about how self destructive you can be without even realizing it. 

(To give her credit, she was right. I hadn't thought about it at all.)


by MB

"But this isn’t fiction. Sometimes a story is not about anything except what it is about. Sometimes you wake up and find that you actually have lost your nose. Losing my mother’s wedding ring in the Tongue River was not ok. I did not feel better for it. It was not a passage or a release. What happened is that I lost my mother’s wedding ring and I understood that I was not going to get it back, that it would be yet another piece of my mother that I would not have for all the days of my life, and I understood that I could not bear this truth, but that I would have to.

Healing is a small and ordinary and very burnt thing. And it’s one thing and one thing only: it’s doing what you have to do. It’s what I did then and there. I stood up and got into my truck and drove away from a part of my mother. The part of her that had been my lover, my wife, my first love, my true love, the love of my life."

- Cheryl Strayed, The Sun Magazine

Four years ago

by MB in , , ,

Matthew died 4 years ago today. May 12, 2013. Mother's Day. Beth Israel Hospital - a place that no longer exists but which haunts me nonetheless.

I wasn't recovered 4 years ago - not even close - but I was in limbo. I wasn't unhappy. I wasn't purging. I wasn't anything. I wasn't fat and I wasn't thin. I just was.

4 years ago I wasn't in therapy - I hadn't been in therapy for two years. I wasn't on Prozac. I had never lost anyone.

4 years ago I split into two. May 12, 2013.

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