Photos and some poetic words * EDIT

  I am feeling isolate. Detached. Lost…

I just got my hair cut. Much better now.

To look. To absorb, to glide through spaces and fill the room.

Awake in the moment, gorgeous and vibrant, but not knowing it.

Soft waves flow over.

Rippling. Drifting.

Sunlight, breeze, swirls of life surrounding.

Breathing shallow breaths, waiting, and wanting.

Alone. Disconnected. Alive, yet somehow not here.

Pale, sick. Palpitations. Tired, fighting, losing, and degenerating.

But moving through the day.

Finding a way.

And losing moments in time.

Valuing, appreciating, spinning.

Ageing.

At least I have my teachng. My kids. See all my junk in my teaching room.? Lol.

*********************************

*EDIT

I can’t stand feeling like this day in day out. Feeling so huge like I’m going to burst. Dealing with my feelings through food whether it’s eating or starvation. I HATE being fat. Or should I say FEELING fat. I think my stomach is fat no matter what. Have I mentioned HOW MUCH I HATE BEING FAT????  I  hate it. But I feel juvenile to complain about weight. ARen’t there more important things in the world. Sigh. But feeling like this is hell every day.

Damien is going away for a week. On business. Interstate. For work.

So Let the punishment begin. I have to get my BMI to 14, and I will find some validation in needing some kind of treatment somewhere. Becuase like this, all I’m doing is existing, blundering, being a fat lazy arse (who isn’t even exercising, but I’ going to change that this week), and I’m lying around being a lump of lard. There *will* be a way I cause some change in this cycle. Even if it means I get sicker first. Because I can’t stand existing like this, with no validation to my sufferance in this illness.

This has to lead somewhere. Change somewhere. Something has to happen.