Hello and happy Monday! Off we go into a new week.
I’ve decided to write a new book to add to my collection; I started a document this morning. Not sure the title or exactly what it’ll be about. And that’s okay. We’ll see what comes.
These words came out this morning and I thought I’d share.
A few years after we moved into our house, I was cleaning out the garage. My mom had sent 11 boxes of memorabilia-type stuff I’d saved over the years. I was now an adult so the boxes came to live with me. After sitting in my garage for a while, I decided I’d go through them and see what was all there.
One box struck me — it contained pictures (yup, the pre-digital photo age) and materials for making a scrapbook of my college years. Falling into depression and eating disorders, I’d gained 40+ pounds between my freshman and sophomore years. This was after a decade of high level gymnastics where I always had to be in excellent physical condition. Gaining weight = death.
I had a visceral reaction looking at the photos; I almost didn’t recognize myself. The weight I’d put on — it was everywhere. I wonder now as I type: what was I trying to hide?