Work went well, until the end. A former co-worker is helping out with fall rush this week and while neither of us dislikes the other, there is an awkwardness that feels nearly suffocating. My last 45 minutes of work seemed to last as long as the rest of the day had.
I came home cranky. It wasn't until after my kids were in bed that I realized food (or the lack thereof) is why I was cranky. By that point I really didn't want to eat. It was too late for dinner. Only half joking I asked my friend if a beer was enough calories to be considered dinner. Apparently not :)
I heated up some dinner. I poured the beer into a frosty mug. I tried to eat. I ended up crying instead. I DON'T WANT TO! I managed a
I realized that when I am at this point, hoping for happy seems so far out of reach that numb feels like the best I could achieve. Tonight I long for numb, for a place where the hurt can't find me. Tonight I am pissed off with recovery and am ready to say take this recovery and shove it. While I know this is not a permanent outlook, tonight I could care less if I ever get better. Tonight I long for numb and I know restricting brings me numb, even if only for a short time.
Tonight is another night of crying through the bites. Another night of wondering why I keep on going. Another night of wishing it were easy. Another night of being angry with myself for not being able to just suck it up. Another night of wanting to be anyone but me.
I just received this text message from my dear friend. Isaiah 46:4 even to your old age and gray hairs, I am He who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you. I will sustain you and rescue you
God, sustain me. Carry me. Rescue me. For I am too weary to fight on my own right now.