It's morning. I take a few breaths.
I am not who I used to be. Then who am I?
Waking up used to be the process of remembering yesterday, the moment to recount what I did and didn't eat, how much I cried and how little I hid my tears.
Mornings are not what they used to be. Then what are they?
I strive for mornings that notice the little joys of today, not ones that try to replicate what made me happy 24 hours ago.
But it's morning. I have been given another day. Another day to hear and read and smell and walk and love and glory. I am alive for another day. I think of those who aren't.
~ Hugh Prather, Notes to Myself: My struggle to become a person
The name of the book is Notes to Myself: My struggle to become a person.
It's from 1970, published by Real People Press. My mom gave it to me, and said she carried it around with her throughout college.
Completely engulfed in the eating disorder and the struggle of staying alive — where I was. Now, I live in the beautiful struggle to become a person and I have to face that I am not invincible.
I was never invincible. When I starved myself, I starved myself of my humanity; I shrunk my self-esteem. I made myself feel special by refusing to swallow my strengths.
What an absurd amount of energy I have been wasting all my life trying to figure out how things "really are," when all the time they weren't.
~ Hugh Prather again
I am not who I used to be.
I am the things I notice: the smiling baby at the bagel store, public transit camaraderie, the stray cat curled up against the fence, the moon cradled in sunlight.
I take a few more breaths to carry with me for the rest of the day. It's only morning, and I have more time today to become a person.