The First One
October 04, 2006

I blew it and it fell out of control. Completely and utterly without borders, a lack of control. I was not able to do a thing right. During that time, I crawled under the covers of my bed and re-read old diary entries, ones from five, six, seven years earlier. I was a baby, in high school. Yet, looking back at those I was stronger and more confident. There was no doubt I was happier. At 16 years old, I was happier. Now I was weak. I had faith in you. Leaned on you. Stood on you for support. Listened to the promise. My own reality forsaken for yours. You were my confidence. Now I had none, nothing and no one. How was that possible? How had I lost it all? Aren't you supposed to continue to grow as you continue to age. I had regressed. I lost all confidence and I lost myself. I could not recognize her at all.

That was not the only thing I lost. There was the weight. A whole shit ton of it. Globs of pounds. I wish I could say what my number was, but I was so unaware of it (I was unaware of anything but my emotions) that I did not see a difference. My best guess would be twenty pounds, in two months. I could not even tell you that I was eating. But I wasn't. Clearly. The ass hugging Sevens purchased on a cheer me up trip at the Bloomies in NY were huge. I could slide my thigh into them no problem. The cheaper J Crew jeans I bought to wear until I gained some of the weight back were suddenly too big. The waist swam on me. In a matter of weeks they too were falling off. Size 4 probably.

I let the depression sink in as the pounds dropped off. I only got out of bed when the phone rang. At night I intentionally left my cell in the living room, so I was forced to answer it the following day. If no one called, I did not get out of bed. I didn't tell anyone I was doing this. Otherwise they would have called. They would have known. As if the sick skeleton and the sulking weren't a give away. I did stay out of bed once I answered the phone. You got to have rules, you know. This one I set and followed. I knew well enough not to stay wrapped up in bed all day. That would be sad. I tried to pretend to avoid appearances of sad. Yet happiness was not something I was familiar with. It was a non-existent variable and a seemingly impossibility. I no longer had a grasp on what it meant. I remembered knowing it, but that turned out all wrong. So now that was gone too.

I spent hours of days replaying the whole deal. Doing it over. Doing it under. Wondering and sacrificing. I was not actually living in the present, I was consumed with the past. I cried. At all times and for no reason at all. I bawled when it happened. In the corner of the couch wrapped in a ball, my face pressed into the cushions, I was all alone. I clung to the telephone for support and the sound of a human voice. But that loneliness was what did me in. I could have been okay. But the depth of it pushed me too far. Big heavy sobbing tears with no breath. My chest hurt. My hands hurt. My head hurt.

It was the ramification of it. It was the way it was handled. It was what was sacrificed. It was the promises of the future. It was what it all signified. I never had anything like that. To be taken away was too much for me to handle. So I didn't. I broke down. I also never had to deal with the break down. So I broke down further. A visit to the bookstore to read self help books that were wildly above my own issues. Another visit to the doctor to talk about what these issues were. That should have brought perspective. But that needed to come from within. You can only help yourself.

There are things that remain. The resentment. I still have regret for letting it all go. The ramifications persist today. I know they do. Everyday I live that decision. Those mistakes are our lives, my life. I live with that choice, the choice I made and the consequences of making that choice. Regret is present, no doubt. It is the kind that has a multiplying effect. Regret times four.

But I would not be here and this would not be my life, at all, not even close, if it did not all happen. This is geography and emotion. Every aspect of my life would be altered. I would be there or I would be elsewhere if I had strength enough to turn from the choice. I never thought I would be here. Yet my life is this now because of what happened. My life is my past. It defined me. It continues to define me.



Post a Comment

Back To the Main Page

This is one girls tangy sweet take on live and her loves - food, family, friends, photography anything goes, afterall it is her world.

  • My Profile
  • Email Me
  • Myspace

  • Ask a Question:
  • Q&A

  • More About Me:
  • My Believe
  • Asked and Answered
  • For Love Of Our Senses
  • Sleepy Sunday

    amanners7's photos More of amanners7's photos

    Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

    P.S./Photo Sunday


  • Boasting
  • Breathing
  • Dreams
  • Everyday Life
  • Fart Queen Stories
  • Friends/Family
  • J.O.B.
  • Last Life
  • Listing
  • Mr. Magoo
  • Open Letters
  • Perspective
  • Practice
  • P.S./Photography Sunday
  • Trips/Travel

  • Legal Garbage

  • Reality

  • The Yom

  • Post Mortem

  • This Week, This Weekend and the Future

  • Mood Swings and Changed Plans

  • Adore, Like, Love

  • Love Feeling, Feeling Love

  • Our Little Girl

  • In Sickness and In Bed

  • To My Sister

  • Mother's Day

  • Risky Business
  • Oh La La Vacay
  • Adore, Like, Love
  • Birthday Cake
  • Tuxedos, Photographers & Van Morrison
  • Reality
  • Ms. New Orleans
  • Love Feeling, Feeling Love

  • Powered by: Blogger
  • Design by: soapbox.SUPERSTAR

  • Local Links of Interest: Sticks of Fire: Tampa's Website

    Subscribe to
    Posts [Atom]

    Subscribe in a reader casinosFree Web Tools