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I've Always Hated Purging

When I was little I hated puking so much that once I wouldn't open my mouth, thinking that would somehow stop the inevitable.  It didn't.  Sure burned my nose though.  I still hate purging.  I'd rather suffer for longer than have a painful build-up and then a violent purge followed by general feeling of wellness.  Whatever!  I can handle the pain for longer if it means feeling a little more in control!

I need to vent, and I apparently need to vent to a crowd so that my throat and neck stop throbbing.  I don't want to.  I hate this.  I loathe this exercise so much.  I feel like I've done this so many times, but nothing changes.  I hate complaining, even if it's about MYSELF.

I have typed probably 15 emails or texts or messages to people this week that I won't send.  Why?  Because I'm SURE these people don't want to have anything to do with me whatsoever.  Why?  I DON'T KNOW!!!

I was told just this month that I'm really bright, I know "ev…
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Smile Day

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BEFORE (0820 hours) - I can't turn back now.  The notes are out.  What am I so afraid of?  Not being accepted?  No.  Not making a positive impact despite actually trying something this time?... ugh yes that's the one... and I've placed them into my own class so I can't escape the truth.  I will see reactions.  This isn't the theoretical Shrodinger's cat situation I've come to love.  The comfort of the unknown, allowing me to proceed with hope unchallenged.  This is Pandora's box where I have abandoned hope there in the safety of darkness to face the reality of truth out here in the light.  Whether or not the reaction is good or bad isn't the problem.  It's the responsibility inherent with action and truth.  Honestly I don't even know what I hope for at this point.  I know I did what I had to do today.  I'm hopeful it makes a positive impact on someone, even if it is only me.  I finally was brave enough to do something more public.  Still…
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Still

It's been awhile since I posted, but I have been keeping up with my creativity challenge.  Today I finally rearranged and hung up framed photos that have been patiently waiting in my basement since we moved here 4 years ago.  I was trying to come up with ideas on what to place in some giant poster frames we've had laying around and I reopened 2005-2007, the years Josh was gone.

I thought it would be kinda cool to collage everything I had saved, which was everything we wrote each other while he was away.  Romantic, right?  I started reading a few notes from flowers he had sent me "home soon, babe. i love you." and I was right back in that hell of missing him.  I bawled immediately and didn't read anything else.  It took me by surprise that I still have such a strong emotional response after all this time.  Such a tiny little message.  I feel every hopeful, pain-filled word.  I see my yellow walls, my blue cabinets in the kitchen, and the bouquet of fresh cut flow…
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