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.