Week 14: A Pregnancy Without a Scale

Happy Wednesday fighters,

Today I am officially in the second trimester of my pregnancy, which is so exciting! I swear I literally woke up one day with this beautiful baby bump.

I didn’t think I would show this much this early, and to be honest, despite the quiet whispers of Ed in my head every now and then, I love this beautiful, beautiful bump. I love showing it off because it’s the most beautiful thing that has ever happened to my body. And I think it’s good to remind myself of that.

So last week I wrote about my shopping trip at Trader Joes and how for the first time I really let myself browse and get foods that just sounded good to me. I didn’t care as much about the nutrition label, but more of what sounded good.

I know at the end of my blog I wrote about how I wasn’t sure if I was as honest with myself about my freedom in my recovery prior to getting pregnant as I thought I was being.

I thought about that a lot of this week.

Here is my conclusion:

At the time, before I got pregnant, I was honest with myself. In my eyes, I was living in the most freedom I had ever lived in.

It is only now that I became pregnant, that my eyes have opened to something new.

I think at first I didn’t want to admit that because it was scary to me to think that I had so much left in my recovery to learn, but I am not scared anymore.

I always knew my journey would be a forever one.

This is what I observed this week:

Since I became pregnant, I have:

Allowed myself to choose foods that just sound good to me. I have not looked at the calories of them either, which is unheard of for me, even in the best times of my recovery.

I have not measured my cereal in the morning or my milk, which was something I was doing up until I got pregnant. I still do, however, measure my coffee creamer, I will admit that, otherwise I swear I will pour in the whole bottle (work in progress, right).

I got a soft taco for the first time ever at Taco Time, instead of the Salad I have always gotten there since I moved to Washington. And I didn’t look at the calories.

I ordered a veggie sandwich with mayo. With mayo! Again, totally new for me.

I haven’t been measuring food when I put it on my plate for dinner.

All of these moments have been compromised of so much freedom for me, yet I have questioned myself a lot this week as to why did I wait to explore this area of freedom until I got pregnant?

With all my heart, I don’t believe that I was denying myself anything prior to getting pregnant.

It reminded me of when I was 19 years old and I went to Guatemala on a volunteer mission to help children living in poverty.

I remember the people who ran that program tell us to please not give any gifts to the children, but one of the people in our group had given a child who was wheelchair bound an electric wheelchair instead of the regular one he had.

Of course they meant so well and they had the best of intention.

But the administrator had said, once that chair runs out of batteries and we are back in the states, how will they charge it? The boy will then have to go back to the regular wheelchair, but now he knows that he could have something better and that will devastate him.

Sometimes you don’t know there is something sweeter on the other side until someone shows you.

This kind of reminds me of that.

I didn’t know that there was this kind of freedom in my recovery yet because I hadn’t experienced it yet. I only knew the freedom that I was able to reach prior to pregnancy, if that makes any sense at all.

But now that I have experienced it, similar to the electric wheelchair, I am not sure I can go back now and I don’t really think I want to.

Unfortunately while the boy in the wheelchair might not have had a choice, and had to go back, I do have a choice.

I get to decide to stay here, in this sweeter freedom.

I have mixed emotions about that.

Part of me is excited that I have reached this new point of freedom. It’s the same part of me that is so excited that I am allowing myself the space to test these foods and new boundaries out.

Then there is the other part of me that is really scared of that.

Does that mean I will just eat whatever I want all the time? Does this mean I have lost self control? What does this mean for my body? It’s a lot of the same questions I had in my early recovery.

But I know, that in the deepest of my heart, I can’t go back to how things were before, because now that I know this new freedom exists, I would be doing myself a disservice by going back.

Maybe this is what people mean when they refer to intuitive eating.

I try to remind myself that even with these new experiences, I have always listened to my body, and that is something I am really proud of.

I have only eaten what my body wants and I stop eating when I am full.

I have never binged on anything  or restricted anything.

And at the end of the day, I feel satisfied. I feel in tune with myself. I don’t feel out of control at all, not even in the least bit way.

And for the most part, I crave wholesome foods. They are just different foods.

So what is this fear? Why is it here?

The only explanation I can think of is that because like always, it is something new and unknown.

It’s unknown territory to me.  Anything unknown can be scary.

But, the best things in my life have come from unknown.

Moving to Washington=unknown. Result= met my husband, fell in love.

Started recovery=unknown. Result= Saved my own life, started a nonprofit to help others worldwide.

And now we add to this list:

Got pregnant/explored new foods= Unknown. Result= Freedom, baby. New freedom.

And that is where I am going to leave this.

I am ready for you, unknown , new freedom. Old freedom has left and now you have arrived.

Maybe you are something I have deserved for a while.

You might be unknown, but I think I can handle you.

More than that, I appreciate the happiness you bring me and the sense of adventure you bring me.

I am not saying you don’t scare me sometimes, because you do, but I can’t go back now to the old version I thought you were.

Freedom 2.0…here we come.

Hello Life.

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Week 13: A Pregnancy Without a Scale

Happy Wednesday fighters!

Wow, thank you so so much for all your support and love from the last post. I can tell that this journey is going to really bring so many people from all walks of life all around the world together.

From people who are soon to be mamas who have struggled with an eating disorder, to those who have not, and to those who are just starting recovery from any addiction, I think our truth holds a lot of power.

So last blog I talked about my Chipotle experience and how I struggled back and forth between allowing myself to enjoy it and between my Ed voice getting mad at me for it.

This week was very different than that in two ways.

First, I was so sick this week, that I would have been extremely grateful to enjoy any bite of my food and would have driven the 45 minutes to Chipotle if I had the energy to enjoy food.

For the first time in a long time, I really missed enjoying my food.

Even being in recovery for five years, enjoying food is still such a freedom to me that I never take for granted. But this week, I was really reminded of that freedom and how grateful I am that I get to indulge in it whenever I do.

Second, this week was different because it really wasn’t about food much at all. When I blogged about a year without a scale, literally my entire life was centered around that and my recovery, as it should have been in new recovery.

But this time around, five years later into my recovery, my recovery, I am glad to say, is part of my life, but it is not my entire life-if that makes sense.

So while of course pregnancy and pregnancy without a scale is going to be a huge experience in my life and my recovery, it isn’t taking up every second of my day, which I think is a recovery victory.

For those of us in recovery, that is something that we strive for; we strive for our recovery to become part of us, not become us. 

This week was also different because it was extremely emotional.

I wasn’t worried about my food or body. I wasn’t really worried at all, actually. Worried isn’t the right word.

I was just really anxious. I think now that we are past 3 months along in the pregnancy, it is hitting my husband and I that we are going to be bringing in a human life into this world.

It is the by far the happiest we both have been about anything, other than the day we got married to each other. Yet at the same time, at least for me, it brings me so many thoughts.

Most of us who are in recovery from any addiction are type A personalities and we love, love, love planning and schedules and knowing the outcome of things.  It’s one of the reasons I went to school to become a reporter; because I love facts.

Facts are indisputable. Hard evidence. Solid information.

I love agendas, schedules and planning-I get excited just writing it! Sometimes when I talk to my sister on the phone and she asks me what my plan is for the day she will stop me half way through and say, “Shira, I didn’t mean every hour…I just meant overall.”

With pregnancy, it is hard to plan.

I got overwhelmed with what happens after our amazing little human soul is here.

How do I run my nonprofit? How do I work? How do I be a mom? How do I be a wife? How in the universe will I do all of that and still practice self -care and be sane?

It almost seems like it required a superpower.

That was pretty much a lot of my energy this week. Thinking about those questions. And I don’t have an answer to them still, which is still a very weird feeling.

The best answer I could find for myself was, “You will figure it out. Just like everyone else does, you will do. People do it all the time.”

So obviously, my type A readers are probably reading that along with me thinking, “Whatttttt, Shira, what kind of answer is that?”!!

I know. I agree. It’s unsettling. And it still makes me nervous, but that is the truth.

But that is the work I did this week.

I really had to dig deep inside myself and remind myself, that just like when I started recovery and had no idea what would happen or when I moved states away to Washington by myself at 23 years old, I had to learn how to practice living in the grey.

Not the black and white, but the grey.

I think from this point on with my life as a mama, director of my own agency, advocate, wife, daughter,sister, friend, etc, I will be living in the grey.

None of those titles seem to even hold a space in the black and white world anymore because the definition of those titles will be constantly changing as I grow and evolve and our family evolves.

So, I will figure it out. And I am already now starting to give myself the flexibility to allow myself the time to do that.

The typical black and white version of me would have expected to have it “figured out” one week after the baby is born, or even before.

But the grey version of me is telling myself, “just let it ride. don’t put a time limit.” (Which again, is pretty adventurous for us planners).

But beyond that, there is one thing I would like to mention in this week’s post about the food part of my recovery before I end this post.

I drove myself to Trader Joes on Sunday which is about an hour from my house but has food that I really love, so in hopes of trying to find a food I like, I drove down there.

I usually buy the same basic stuff every time I go. But this time, I gave myself the freedom to just browse and see what looked good to me.

I looked at food and drinks I never would have looked at before. Foods that might not have been on my “healthy” list before.

And so, I even bought some of them.

Even standing in line buying them I was thinking,”Wow…this is so different.”

But I got home and was looking at my strawberry lemonade, dried fruit and tamales and shredded wheat cereal with the sugar on it that I bought and I thought, “what in this is really that bad?”.

Nothing . Really, nothing in that was “that” bad as my Ed voice would say.

This week, that strawberry lemonade was one of the only things that made my taste buds happy. I mix it with water otherwise its too sweet and also I don’t believe in drinking my sugar all day, but it was amazing.

And none of the food I got, that was “bad” food, was anything I binged on or anything like that. I trusted my body to take what it needed. And I was proud of myself for that. That takes a lot of work to practice trusting your body.

I have been thinking, similar to the Chipotle experience, why, did I have to wait until I was pregnant to buy myself strawberry lemonade and shredded wheats and tamales?

It kind of sounds crazy now that I write it down.

Those are foods I always walked by and wouldn’t let myself buy.

I am thinking that while I was in the best place in my recovery before I got pregnant, that maybe there is this entire part of my recovery that was untapped and just waiting for me to open and explore.

Maybe I wasn’t totally 100 percent honest with myself about what freedom with food was?

Or maybe I just didn’t even know that I was depriving myself from those things that I enjoyed until now?

Either way, I am so grateful that my pregnancy is allowing me the chance to open this  totally unexplored area of freedom in my recovery that I never thought about or knew was there before.

I don’t think I want to go back to the old way of thinking.

The grey area might not be as bad of a place as I thought it would be.

Hello Life.

 

 

2015: Lets do it fighters

Happy 2015 lifers,

It all started last Sunday when I wanted Thai food and I had no one to go with me.

I didn’t want to get take out and have it cold when I got home.

I saw a Thai food restaurant and was thinking that I should just go inside by myself, sit down at a table and take myself out to dinner.

Um…just take myself out to dinner? alone?

It’s something I have not done before.

I’ve cooked for myself before, but I’ve never gone and sat down into a restaurant alone and ate.

Never, ever. A lot in part because I know Ed would take a seat right next to me and learning how to entertain him as a dinner guest is something that needs to be planned and well prepared.

Taking yourself out to eat alone at a restaurant is the most mindful act possible. It’s being mindful that you are taking yourself out to eat, and being OK with that and it’s the act of being mindful of what you are eating and how it tastes.

There’s no one there to talk with you as your eating to be a distraction and theres’ no TV in front of your face either.

It’s pure mindfulness.

And for someone in recovery for an eating disorder, it’s a lot to take on because that mindfulness will battle Ed in our mind the moment we even drive in the car to the restaurant.

So I decided last Sunday that I wasn’t ready that night to go do it, but I knew that I wanted to make sure I would do it soon, so I made it my new year resolution.

I wanted to give myself the time to prepare to take on this challenge.

Even if it means letting Ed come along with me, I actually would rather do that and show him I can do it in front of his face.

Sure, he will tell me that everyone there is looking at me wondering why I am ordering all this food for just me. Yup, he will definitely say that. He already did say it and I didn’t even go yet.

And he will tell me it was enough to just take a few bits and leave.

But that’s ok with me because I’m stronger than him now.

I don’t want to do this challenge only as an act of eating; but as an act of self-love.

I so deserve to be able to take myself out to eat, even in the face of Ed.

I deserve to do able to sit in peace or discomfort, whichever it brings me, and walk myself through it and eat what my body is craving.

So that settles it.

For 2015, I am going to take myself out to eat a restaruant, alone.

I am going to think about the kind of food I want that night and pick a place carefully.

I want to put as much thought into it as I would if I was taking my boyfriend out on a fancy date because instead, I will be my own date and that deserves major planning.

I was talking to the fighters in the support group about this and a few of them also wanted to take on the challenge. So another fighter in New York and I have decided to do the challenge together  on the same day.

This way, while we will each be taking ourselves out to eat alone, we will really not be alone because we will be doing this together.

We will be going through the feelings of anxiety together and the discomfort together, and most importantly, we will be feeling victorious together once we are done.

If there is anyone else reading this who would like to join us, we have chosen Sunday, Jan.11 as our day.

I don’t think we will put a time on it because what if I want dinner and our other fighter wants breakfast? I like the idea of leaving that open so we have the freedom to customize it how we want to.

Anyone else who wants to join, just please contact me through the contact me tab and let me know and I will make sure we all have the support we need as we take this on together.

As far as the rest of 2015 goes, I only know this: I will continue to live life loving others without judgement and I will continue to remind myself that that love is deserved for myself too.

I also hope this is the year Hello Life can become a nonprofit and start reaching others so other fighters can have the support and love they need.

20 days after 2013 I started this blog and gave up my scale.

Never in all my dreams would I have thought it would have led me to almost two years of being scale free and in recovery from my eating disorder. Never would I have thought that it would bring so many beautiful souls into my life.

This Jan. 21 will mark two years without a scale and in recovery. I cannot wait to celebrate with you all and I cannot wait to tell you how my dining experience alone will go.

I know that everyone reading this blog has felt the same pain, anger, darkness and imprisonment from Ed this last year that I did.

But I also know, that so many of us have also felt our power and our freedom come back into our lives by kicking Ed’s ass and learning to love and be kind to ourselves.  Here is only a few of the amazing things our fighters did in 2014:

To our 15-year-old fighter in New York who just left inpatient treatment and is on his way back to school and freedom, hello life.

To our fighter in Canada who ripped up her sick clothes, hello life.

To our fighter in London who literally saved her own life by sticking to her recovery and using all the support around her and who is blossoming in every way, hello life.

To our fighter in Kansas who continues to love others even though her heart has been hurting this year, who put real cheese on her veggies and who might possibly give up her own scale this year, hello life.

To our fighter in New Jersey who continues to love her family and has been scale free for 9 months, hello life.

To our fighter in Pennsylvania who has has continued to live with an open heart and push for recovery while being a mother and a wife day in and day out, hello life.

To our fighter in the United Kingdom who celebrated her 21st birthday this year, hello life.

To our fighter in France who ate a lemon pie, her favorite dessert, on her own, hello life.

To our fighter in Oregon who just had a healthy baby girl,hello life.

To our fighter in Canada who just made an entire vegan meal tonight and who continues to love herself, care for herself and live in the world of recovery even though life has not been the easiest on you lately, hello life.

To the 600 people wearing Hello Life bracelets around the world, hello life.

To our 13-year-old fighter in Tennessee who enjoyed ice cream with her friend this summer, hello life.

To the many fighters who have told me this blog saved their lives…little did you know your support and love has saved mine.

May we continue to fight together for our right to love ourselves and live in freedom not just in 2015, but for as long as it takes.

Hello life.

Day 309: Whatever Enough Means…I Am It

Hello everyone,

I had another story run on the front page of my university newspaper today.

I didn’t workout because I needed a break.

I had one of the top officials at school approach me and want to do an interview with me for a story.

I found out I got an A on that presentation in one of my classes that I did last week that was 50 percent of my grade.

The beautiful woman who I documented her oral history on video was actually proud of the work I did.

And yet, for whatever reason, none of it was enough for me.

I found myself sitting here in bed right before I started writing this post, adding up the calories I ate today in my phone.

Like, really? Really? I had all these great accomplishments today, and that’s what I am sitting here doing? Adding up calories?

Why can’t I sit here and brag about all those little victories that I made happen for myself today? I did try and put my cover story on my Facebook page, but that didn’t help.

All because I ate today, none of my accomplishments seem to matter.

And I didn’t even eat “bad,” I ate totally on my meal plan-maybe some extra sweets but nothing that should logically make me feel guilty. It is days and moments like these where I need to stand back, close my eyes and give myself a reality check.

And if I can’t see the reality check, that’s fine, but at least I need to try.

Reality check: All my accomplishments today had nothing to do with Ed.

And actually, maybe that’s why Ed was so loud today, because he sees me succeeding in my life without him and he’s trying to hold onto me.

I honestly don’t want to be held by him anymore. Let me go, Ed. Some days you are nicer, some days you hold on tight, like today.

To sit here and not let myself feel proud of my accomplishments because of calories, pains my soul. I don’t deserve that, and I know it.

What I know and what I feel are two different things right now, but thats ok. Like  I always say, feelings come and go, but facts stay.

Maybe none of the things I did today feel like enough, but maybe tomorrow they will. Maybe this post will reach someone who is going through the same thing today,and maybe knowing that will be enough.

Maybe just realizing that I’m not in the happiest mood, and that it’s ok, and that it will pass is enough.

Maybe enough isn’t about amounting to anything or achieving some kind of accomplishments, maybe enough can start with just being honest with myself.

If I’m honest with Ed, well, there’s no honesty with Ed–if I let Ed pull me in to his lies, then my honesty with myself is gone and that’s not an option.

So here’s my honest moment with myself and I: we didn’t have the greatest day with how we feel about ourselves today, but we’re ok.

I got through the day being honest with myself instead of honest with Ed, I ate on the meal plan, and I am still able to see that tomorrow is a new day.

I mean, sometimes making it through the day is enough in itself right?

Whatever enough means, I would like to think I am it today.

Hello life.

enough

Day 308: Welcome To Recovery, Ed–The Land of Cocktails and Restaurant Dinners on a Monday

Hello everyone,

A day that started out totally consumed by Ed, is now ending totally not consumed by him, and I will walk you through how this happened.

Now, at the beginning of the day, I was telling E how I had some extra time today because my class was canceled and so was my tutoring, and that instead of enjoying it, I wanted to spend it at the gym.

I was almost in desperate need of being inside the gym, like I was thirsting for it.

I did go to the gym, but only for 20 minutes, and then after I hit that 20 minute mark, my body was just done. And I am still done.

Done enough that I don’t even think I will go tomorrow, even though Thanksgiving is on Thursday.

Ed, my body and I are done and we need a break.

And today we took that break. Instead of living inside the gym today, or living inside my room looking over and over again at the pictures I took of myself in the mirror this morning (which are now deleted), I decided to go to a movie with my grandma.

The movie actually ended up being kind of sad, as there was a lot about death centered around it, but it also made me think of the own death I’ve seen in my life–and I’ve only truly seen and felt one death that touched my life directly, and that was my grandpa (I’ve written about him before).

When you think about losing people you love, stupid pictures of the way your body looked this morning after eating a little extra the past few days is just not as important.

You know what is important to me now?

The fact that I spent time with my grandma today; that quality time together is important.

You know what’s important now?

The amazingness in her and I going to dinner after the movie to one of my favorite restaurants and ordering cocktails.

COCKTAILS WITH MY GRANDMA, GUYS. Let me repeat: Cocktails-with-my-grandma. Is she cool or what?

I mean, how awesome and rare is that? And how incredible is it that it actually happened?

I used to only see my grandma on Thursdays, at one particular restaurant, where I only got exactly one kind of salad–no dressing, no nothing on it. Just plain, boring, and Ed driven.

Here we were, on  a Monday, seeing a movie together and eating at my favorite restaurant with cocktails.

Ed can kiss my cocktail and amazing dinner from The Cheesecake Factory’s behind, because they were far more important than him, and his pictures from this morning, and his deep desire to stay at the gym all day.

Welcome to recovery, Ed–the land of cocktails and restaurant dinners on a Monday—we’re here to stay.

Hello life.

Day 307: Sorry That I’m Not Sorry

Hi guys,

I was helping my aunt cook today for the upcoming holidays this week, one of which will be Hanukkah. I am Jewish, so while I’m not big on religion, Hanukkah is more of cultural and family event that happens every year, and it’s always, always, always surrounded by lots of fried and delicous yet not Ed approved food.

The main food you eat is potato latkas, which are basically fried potatoes, pretty much like hash browns. So that was all my aunt and I made today–over 100 of those potato latkas.

Not only did I try the first one we made, I tried the second one, I tried probably the 20th one, the 30th one all the super crispy fried pieces that broke off in the frying pan while cooking, and a lunch in between, and then later on tried some more.

I later came home and had pizza for dinner with bread (ah..carb overload) and then realized that over the past few days, I pretty much ate an entire loaf of bread to myself.

I would be lying to you if I said there wasn’t a slight mini freak out moment of anxiety after I realized that fact about the loaf of bread-post eating fried potatoes all day and post eating pizza and bread for dinner (not to mention all my chocolate from yesterday).

Ed wanted me to be sorry.

He still does want me to be sorry.

But honestly, can’t I just have a few days where I eat whatever it is I want–chocolate, fried potatoes, an entire loaf of bread? Don’t people deserve that sometimes?

And also, aren’t I entitled to eat the food I worked so hard to cook today?

Even though I might not be happy with the idea of it all and I might be thinking about how much weight I’ve gained from this, especially with Thanksgiving coming up this week,  I am not sorry.

So Ed, I am sorry that I’m not sorry.

You know Ed? It’s the holidays…a time where people eat…and actually enjoy it…and somehow, they all move past it and don’t blow up like a huge balloon like you are trying to make me think I will.

You’re really just not that credible of a source anymore.

Again, sorry that I’m not sorry for what I ate today and these past few days, and sorry in advance for not being sorry about the food I’ll eat this week.

I see that Ed is not going to cut me any slack, so I’m going to have to work extra hard this week to be extra kind to myself.

It won’t be easy and I know I won’t succeed every minute of the day, but I will try.

It’s funny how the holiday season is about giving to others, but we so often forget to give to ourselves.

How amazing would it be if we could all give ourselves and others the gift of kindness this year?

One person who is for sure not on my gift list is Ed–and I’m not sorry for that either.

Hello life.

Day 299: I Cried Today…But Not Because of Ed.

Hi everyone,

Before I begin today’s post, I just want to say a quick note that you might have received an e-mail from my blog today where I re-blogged someone else’s posts about a young woman who is trying to raise money to help her fight cancer. I just want to make it clear that I don’t personally know her or even the blogger who wrote the post, and therefore cannot verify that her donation site is 100% legitimate. I just wanted to help spread support for someone in need. I am in no way promoting or endorsing her or anything of that sort,  I just thought I would help spread the word.

So moving on into today:

Low key, I think I cried almost two times today.

Well, one a half times.

One times I really did cry, the second time it was just me hyperventilating with that knot in my throat, but I didn’t cry again. So let’s just say I cried one a half times today (so far).

Here’s the recovery niche of that statement: I didn’t cry over my body, or Ed, or what food I ate today, or the food I ate yesterday, or what I looked like in the mirror.

I cried because I honestly have so much homework to do and so many things to fix on my new articles that I am writing and absolutely not enough brain power or time to do it all at once.

Sometimes, when I get overwhelmed, Ed comes to comfort me.

But today, he didn’t. He didn’t because I didn’t let him-and I didn’t let him because having him come in the picture will only make me cry more tomorrow.

Not to sound totally crazy here, but having a day where I am stressed out, or a day where I even cried over something totally not related to my body or to calories or to food, is kind of refreshing.

Those readers who are struggling with eating disorders might understand this a little bit better.

When I was locked in my eating disorder, everything revolved around it. Everything from food, to weight, to what I wore that day, to how I felt that day.

My emotions were once (and sometimes still  are) regulated by Ed and what he told me to feel that day.

If I weighed a “good enough” number, he would tell me I could be happy. If I weighed a “bad number,” he would tell me to be stressed, angry and sad.

And that was pretty much the entire range of emotions I ever felt when I was in my lowest point with Ed.

I never cried though. And if I did cry, I cried alone at night, by myself in bed, when my heart would beat really slow and I would get scared about what I was doing to my body.

So the fact that I cried today not because of anything Ed related, but because I was stressed out about something absolutely not related to him is actually a great thing.

I’m moving on to new stressors, that are not about my eating disorder.

No stress is ever fun, and I am in no way happy that I cried, because obviously, I am slightly having a mini freak out about how I will handle all this work in such little time, but, I am able to see what this means.

This means life after Ed.

Also, I just want to say thank you to everyone who e-mailed me and told me they received their hello life bracelets today. I haven’t had a chance to respond because if you can tell by this post, I’ve been stressing out today, but I promise to respond soon and I really appreciate you taking the time to let me know you received them.

I guess it’s not really low key that I cried anymore because hundreds of people now know, but I don’t care.

Your the same people who’ve known that I’ve cried because of Ed, so why not tell you when I cry because of other things not about him?

It’s kind of refreshing to read right?

For what it’s worth, it’s refreshing to feel.

Hello life.