I realized today that over one month has passed since I started this blog. Re-reading each post is re-living a piece of my past, dusting off old emotions and feelings, poking and prodding at some things that should be left alone.
It's been over one month. I'm still exhausted beyond belief. I cannot get enough sleep.
Sometimes, I forget this is my life. I am making more of a conscious effort to remind myself, each time I make a choice, that my choices matter, because they are directly related to how I live my life. I don't want to operate outside of my own belief system.
Trying to fall asleep makes me more anxious than just doing it.
I miss him next to me, his weight, his breath. The southern curl of his laugh and the way his eyes get big when he talks about the outdoors. The steadiness of his hands, interrupted by his body's own sensory system.
I am so lonely.
I am too afraid to weigh myself not because of what the number will be, but because I don't trust myself around the number.
I am too afraid to stop because I don't want to know my body in its true form (do people know this?) Does everyone "know" their set point?
I want her to take care of me.