I spend a ridiculous amount of time thinking about how I could climb under my desk at work and take a nap and no one would know. This week I *did* need sleep so desperately that I went out to my car in the parking lot, laid the driver’s seat back, put a sweater over my head, and feel asleep. I didn’t quite stoop to crawling under my desk, but that day is coming. I can feel it.
I started a list. I want to be able to show it to you one day and say, “See how long I waited? See how hard I looked?” And then we will laugh and I will think, ‘That seems like a lifetime ago. Thank God.’”
I like the idea of being thorough now, so that later I can read about the transition. I can remember the lonely times. I can affectionately look back on my angsty, wandering self and think, “Awww, honey. You were trying so hard.”
I didn’t write back because I didn’t have anything nice to say. I thought that would still be okay, but—to be honest—the prospect of uttering/typing the words, “We have to catch up!” one more time made me want to retch.
This is the last one for awhile. I’m tired. I just need a break. I don’t have it in me right now.
I’m trying to mentally gear up to take the baby steps. Maybe the first one comes in the form of a Bodybugg. It took so goddamn long before, but it was so worth it. I at least want a 5K. I could totally do that.
I know it was a mistake allowing myself to be without them for awhile and running the risk of ending up back there. I can feel the slippage. On Monday it was so strong I could barely breathe. Oct. 1 will change all of this.
Why you wanna be an asshole and steer your shopping cart like a maniac through Safeway? We’re all in this together.