I don’t want cooking to become mere habit again. I will need to admit that my meticulous menu planning and habitual cooking was partially practical but also a means to mask my anxiety and control food another way in my life.
The truth about anxiety is that no matter what words I type, I want to hit the delete button. And that truth transcends into every aspect of my life.
The barbell hovered a few inches off the ground. I dropped it and shook my head. That’s ok, take a few seconds and try it again. I step back up to the bar. I’ve never failed a second attempt, I think as it hits the gym floor.
I can’t speak. He waits for me to say something… anything. Tears taste salty and sting the rawness in my throat, but I won’t let them fall. I’ve been a writer on mute most of my life.
I’m halfway through a therapy session when I have a sudden thought. I really want a T-shirt emblazoned with the words “I do what I want.” I want it so badly ... In my head they are code words for “Fuck you...."
As my Project 365 comes to a close, I am going to take some time to reflect, and write, about the lessons that came with it. The project helped me be strong enough to ask for help; to be more vulnerable. It’s hard, it sucks, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.
I simply found myself unable to write the ending I’d come to rely on. It wasn’t the ending I wanted for my characters anymore. It wasn’t the ending I wanted for me anymore.