kellog's corn flakes are still my favorite cereal

The interesting thing about feeling restored to my life, feeling like I'm putting the puzzle pieces of the last three months together in an effort to figure out what I was doing, almost as if I was on auto-pilot, or without a conscience, or lacking my own previously determined boundaries, is this: I am getting thinner.

Physically, it happened because of the fast I did in May (look through the archives for fun posts about not eating solid food for twelve days). I didn't gain back any of the twenty pounds I lost, and have since lost an additional five or so. I didn't notice it so much lately, but my jeans are looser than they have been. Pants that I wore and couldn't zip up before are too big now. Lately, I have begun to get the random comments and praise (it is quite the feat to lose twenty-five pounds).

Mentally, my capacity for anger is gone. I don't know if that's just a numbness I feel, or if it is really gone. No matter what someone says to me it's like I've got the ability to stand in their shoes and feel their heart and I don't get angry. That's not to say I don't feel hurt and pained by their actions, but the immediate and instinctive anger is gone.

I have cut myself loose from him yet again. And though it seems odd, but not permanent and not the end of the world, it does feel right somehow. As well, I have let the door close on the quintessential boy next door, whose intentions for me would have never matched my own for him. These two bold moves are simply a way of clearing and opening my clogged arteries so that blood can pump into my heart again.

Getting my apartment in order has really begun to shape this sense of clarity, as I remind myself of projects waiting for my return, reconnect with my most treasured items, and remember who I am. I thought for sure I had too many things, that my life was bloated by the inability to throw anything away. Instead, I am surprised to learn that I was just cramped into my previous space, that my legs were buckled, my shoulders grazed the ceilings, and my limbs were strapped to my torso. I hardly have enough things, I am a svelte creative being just beginning to explore the possibilities.

All in all, I find that my capacity for things is feckless and brief, that I can only tolerate what I most enjoy and what most enjoys me. And for a while, I feel that is fine. I think that is a very safe way to recover myself.