This is where I leave you.
I merely write for many personal reasons, but mostly because I am terrible with communicating verbally how I feel acutely. I don’t feel like the conventional way either. I always thought of myself as a compassionate, sensitive and very empathetic person someone who was truly in touch with her genuine feelings. I was wrong. It invariably has me chasing down this chosen path of figuring out what exactly I willingly spent prime years of journaling in small lined hard adequately covered precious books for.
Traditionally writing everything I naturally thought I was allegedly experiencing. And now here I am precisely mid-forties and I am about to go into trauma therapy with no uncomfortable idea what I am about to uncover. I recklessly spent the considerable majority of my humble life living sufficiently in a morbidly obese body and now that the considerable weight has been dealt with… I find myself with two distinct identities and it is exhausting.
There is in contrast to this other person I am carrying around, and she is severely taxing me emotionally and mentally. I am continuously finding it more and more difficult to merely live my unusual life authentically with her hijacking my life. I inevitably have a thousand lives I desperately want to live, but I am not living with her around. She’s too heavy, and I am no longer willing to obligingly give her free rent. I am eagerly awaiting the trauma therapy, and I hope this space is a place where I can share that journey.