The Grey.

Sitting here post workout, stretching. I haven’t done strength training in a long time, so I did a few sets of crunches to see where I stood. Breezed through them, so I decided to add in a plank session.

Couldn’t stay up for 3 seconds before I fell flat on my face. I tried again. Fell. Again damn it! Fell.

Finally, I gave up and laughed. When did I become so weak? 

Daddy and I decided to take a brief time out. His personal life has thrown a wrench in our relationship and he may not be able to keep up the frequency of communication that I need. The last time we spoke was a few days ago. My choice, not his.

Last night, he sent me a message: “Hey”. I didn’t see it until an hour later and by that time I assumed he went back to bed. It’s almost like he wants to reach out but is waiting for me to give the go ahead. I can’t, though. His personal life comes first. And I know that if I were to reach out to him he’d reply immediately. Without question.


I haven’t cried yet.

I’ve been keeping myself busy. I worked until midnight last night despite it being Sunday. Busted ass this morning at work. Super efficient. Must. Get. Work. Done.

My heart aches in the morning when I don’t see a message from him. I pushed away the thought to do my old standby and workout until I was unable to walk tomorrow. Self harm isn’t the way to deal and he wouldn’t want me to do that to myself.


No matter. I have plenty of work to do. There’s always work to be done. Logically, I know that giving into my workaholic tendencies is not the way to go. But it feels so fucking good right now. If I can’t hurt myself physically, I’m going to wear myself out mentally.

I called myself stupid today. That’s a first–hasn’t happened in a long time. You’re the perfect pet for me. You’re beautiful, smart, kind, creative… FUCK!  I can’t remember why I called myself that, but it was the way I used to call myself stupid when my own father would threaten me if I cried.

I can’t say I’m lost. I’m not. I’m hyper-focused. I’m hurting (Jesus fucking Christ I think I’m dying…no, no…not dying just not currently living) and I can feel every second of it. I came slamming back down to the Earth. I’m spitting out dirt, blood and loose teeth. My bones hurt. My body aches. I hurt, I hurt.

I refuse to cry. What good will that do me? I was living in the grey and now I’m back out in the world of black and white.

Time to put on my battered big girl hat.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s