Day Two and here I am already freaking out about what the hell I am going to possibly write about each and every day for seven weeks. Are you kidding me? What was I thinking.

I did finally break own and admit some of my greatest fears to my one and only. That was a scary first – certainly not as fun as dancing to edm on a Friday afternoon.  And I ugly cried. Like really Claire Danes in William Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet breaking down ugly cried. Which doesn’t help the feeling of all-encompassing failure that accompanied my admissions. Nothing like waiting for the crazy to hit the fan. Part of the problem is not having any faith in my own ability to attract anyone’s love and compassion enough to entice them to stick with me through the deepest and darkest. It’s not, therefore, a matter of not trusting a person enough with the secret, so much as not trusting your own ability to be loved despite said secret.

I’ve begun to surface again these past few weeks. I can sometimes breath easier and feel lighter then I have in months. It’s amazing how physical depression is. It’s exhausting to be in my own head. Not being able to picture yourself growing old. Feeling destined for an early grave. Seeing it n your family, in your past, it’s easy to see it in your own future. Laid out before you.

I am dreading tomorrow. The return of yoga training and learning once again how physically inferior I am to so many people. Tomorrow my first might have to be accepting some limits once and for all.