Dear Lorenzo,
It's 5:23 a.m. and I've been up for the past 30 minutes or so, watching Golic and Wingo and talking to you. I've already got a load of laundry in the washer and am crocking a batch of beans which SHOULD provide your greedy ass daughter with enough stew, chili and homemade nachos to get her through the upcoming weekend.
We'll be leaving for Boston exactly one week from today and I have so much to do; like laundry, mopping, packing and decluttering every inch of this house. I also need to contact Goldfish in Boston so that Amira can continue her swim classes while we're away, and I need to do my best to convince one of the besties to join Planet Fitness with me so that I can have a workout buddy at long last!
Lorenzo? I'm ready to put in the work and lose this depression weight.
I wish I could tell you that I was a beacon of strength and courage in the aftermath of your death but that would be a lie. I did little more than survive it. I spent the majority of my days fluctuating between shock and denial, all while attempting to anesthesize myself to numb the pain.
And my drug of choice was food.
Lots and lots of food.
Potato chips, crackers and cheese, if it was salty and crunchy I ate it.
And that's okay. I have FINALLY learned to stop beating myself up for this, for being human and not knowing another way to cope.
I did not gain this weight overnight and I won't lose it overnight either. I will be gentle with myself, I will treat myself with the love, kindness and respect that I deserve.
That we all deserve.
But I will lose this weight because I'm not comfortable in my body anymore and I don't deserve to feel badly about myself.
You died but I'm still alive and...I'm ready to rejoin the land of the living, and feel my feelings again instead of binge eating them away.
It's okay to be lonely, sad and angry.
Those feelings won't take me under.
Because if I can survive losing you, I can face my feelings head on without a big bag of Utz Sour Cream and Onion to cushion the blow.
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