What is the purpose of all this? Is there some therapeutic value to writing down what I’m feeling? I’m caught between giving the dark thoughts life on paper, and keeping them loosely contained, like snakes in a basket. If I had one wish, it would be for peace of mind. My mind is like a elementary school tug of war game. It was probably the only activity for which I was chosen near the top of the list because I was a fat kid. Fat and forgettable. Did I tell you this was not going to be a fun read? Some people cut themselves. Some people overeat to punish themselves. I just think about any one of a million memories of my childhood and see myself alone and clueless.

So today’s battle is going to be won by sticking to the script. Work. Shop. Movie-watch with DD#1 and then home to another round of the usual vices. I don’t think I have another recovery available to me. I did this to myself. I have no one to blame but myself.

If only there was a way to just change that belief – that I don’t deserve anything. I feel so bad about myself, I don’t blame anyone when they get mad at me. I just want to hang myself sooner. I think: if they give me enough rope, I will hang myself. I get that. Why are some people more graceful than others while they journey to the finish line. There is no grace for me. I am unworthy.

What did I do to get this way?