I did it—again, I left two out of three social media(s).
I feel triumphant and lame, mostly because it seems like such a benign thing to “accomplish.”
But, my everything is suffering. I feel beat down and most people know me as the smiling woman and right now all I wanna do is cry.
I’ve been crying for days.
Everything sends a feeling, and there I am, pouring saltwater into my open mouth. I don’t mind, but it must be so strange looking me burst into tears almost every hour.
I sleep, wake up and cry.
I cry before I drift to sleep.
I cry when I awake.
I cry when I shower, when I bathe.
When I’m getting a drink of water, when I’m looking out the window into the hot street.
When the ambulance passes by, when my phone rings.
When the mail comes.
In-between the crying, I have taken up a “yoga challenge” because I have gained a significant amount of quarantine weight.
I feel rotund and I’d like to feel more slick, more able, so I’m on day 7 and my thighs are sore and my forward bend is getting better as is my downward dog.
My body is waking up and it feels like the only alarm I care to pay attention to.
Here’s a picture of me from yesterday, for reference after these 30 days are done.
For now, I’m gonna go try not to cry.
Notes of a Dirty Young Woman 