I can’t see myself in the damn mirror last two days. I took pictures, and compared to the days before, nothing has changed… and maybe that is the problem.

I am in the third month now of my new routine and I know I just need to trust it, but with the battle with the cutting of my Klonopin and the no cigarettes, it is a lot to take in all at once. My head is a bit overwhelmed. I don’t want to lose weight this time, I want to get really really tight, really strong. My legs are like steel beams, but who gets to look at my legs and go ooo, everyone goes straight to the abs, and while I see it in my pictures and the right lighting, I sit down, and don’t want anyone to touch. If I lay back or stand up, go for it. This is not the same as with a trainer, but it isn’t that bad either, it is still very good results, I still run a 6 minute mile. But I am not getting as strong as fast. But that is OK I am in this for the long run, I will continue, I will show up everyday and do it. It is my main priority.

I however am forcing myself to go out, to do things that I wouldn’t think twice if I had a cigarette to hold onto for comfort. Cigarettes were kinda my baby blanket ever since my anxiety made it so a drink (the end all be all of social norms) became a foreign substance to me. The cigarettes made me fit in. And to be honest I don’t need to fit in, but I love attention. I have a unique look on life, not original or new, but unique, because I will write it out loud, say it out loud, or think it out loud at anytime, at any moment. 

I wish I had more impact on the world because I could share with them, my brain, nothing special, but normal enough where it might help. To know someone else has the same issues, happiness, problems, struggles… helps. 

And it helps me to hear from people who also have those brain patterns, those thoughts, concerns, life lessons. We are lonely by nature, but words make me feel safe. Which is ironic since I do not read. I read slow and my brain wants the ending faster than I can get to, so I won’t do it. It is agonizing for me. I read the same page 6 times to get the TRUE meaning, when in reality it is probably just a page of words that helpe the writer get to the next chapter. 

The cigarettes also dulled my senses to smells and memories around me. Sometimes it is hard to remember the past by a smell. So I am getting used to this new me, and i have a long journey still. 

I will write more about the smoking later but this was just a stream of consciousness I needed to get out.