Last night I spent about 45 min. crying. Like the crying a baby does when they are hurt and don't have the words to explain their pain. I am unsure sometimes about what is with me. I am an overeater that uses food to ease the pain, numb the emptiness, or fight the boredom. For many reasons do I eat.
So my journey to the center of me really starts in the center of me. Bawling like a baby, beggin myself to stop, digging deep for the answers. Yearning for the hand to help me up; realizing that I have two hands. I CAN help myself, but I have to CHOOSE to help myself.I am feeling quite alone in my journey. Not quite sure to who I should share this pain with, or even if I should. I worry of what words that will spill forth from the mouths of those that care.
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