Ghost Girl

Things pass.

Right now, I don’t feel like taking a shower or changing into fresh clothes (and believe me when I tell you-I’ve got drawers full of yoga pants to choose from.)

Instead I want to do nothing-scroll Facebook and eat toast. Something buttery and crunchy. Drink wine. Too much.

Two days ago I stopped the wine for this very reason or maybe because I left my purse around the chair in a bar and had to go back the next day for it. There was a note on my bag. “Save for Matt’s wife. ” I am nameless.

This has been building up since I got back from Ana. But it was also happening before I went.

Am I tired? Am I overwhelmed? Am I depressed? I ask myself these questions and don’t get a clear answer.

My yoga mat is getting harder and harder to get to.

I feel like something is fading.

I saw a group photo from Ana Forrest and my face didn’t register. I mean it didn’t register in the photo. I couldn’t tag myself because the photo didn’t record me as being part of the group.

A ghost girl, I thought.  You can put your hand through me and reach to the other side.

I write this not to draw your pity. That would kill me even more but because I want to tell you this is true and sometimes normal. I know I am not alone.

I taught a yoga and body image workshop this past weekend. It was awesome, not because we suffer but because we came to the knowing-what we share is human-not feeling enough, feeling uncomfortable, feeling inadequate, sad, fat, awful, or whatever.

Suffering happens. Its a wave. I’ll ride it.

Because when I name it and not fight it, I will eventually come to shore, the other side.

And there is another side.

I write this to serve. To spread being human and sensitive and alive and all that goes with it. So you know you are not alone. I am not alone. I feel you.

Today I will make myself shower.


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