Sometimes, I wish I had a lantern on my roof that I could illuminate when I needed support.
I could light up the night with a search light in the shape of a cupcake and my friends would know without my ever saying a word that I needed help. Prayers. Someone to sit with me while I eat. Someone to tell me quite firmly that they expect me to show up to some event that will preclude my going for a run.
Because even after all these months, even after having friends come to my rescue and listen to me whine and cry, even after being shown again and again how much I am loved and cared for – I hate to bother people.
The shame creeps in all too easily, convincing me that these people do not care. They have their own lives, their own struggles. I just need to suck it up and move on.
And yet, there are still so many days that I need to just tell someone how horribly it’s going. So many days when I struggle to eat every meal and every snack. So many days when it is simply too tempting to go back.
I am stuck in this weird in between. I’m not really “sick” any more and yet…
I’m not really “well” either.