Ok, I’ll admit it. In light of recent events (the Boston Marathon tragedy) I felt what the majority of people were feeling. I felt sad, unsafe, grief for those affected directly. I was born in Boston. Then I felt guilty for feeling affected. I didn’t know any of those runners or bystanders directly. I sent out a text to people in my phone list that I felt the closest to thanking them for being a friend or family member.I posted on my Facebook account a brief message. I wanted them to know they mattered to me. Being a cancer survivor you do tend to appreciate life a little more than those people unaffected with disease or loss.Life really is too short to really plan too far ahead, we aren’t guaranteed any tomorrows.It hits you were you live, literally, in your heart.  And I will also admit the one person that I wanted this to get through to, for strictly personal reasons, did not even respond. It should come as no surprise and perhaps it’s a form of torture, some sadomasochist disorder I have become a slave to, but it hurt like hell. They say you trade one addiction for another. Have I traded abusing my body physically with eating disorders, bingeing, purging, starvation and exercise for a form of self inflicted mental abuse?  I am smart enough to realize that I am the ONLY one responsible for allowing this hurt to take up space in my heart, so why can’t I just let it go? What am I punishing myself for now? I’m gonna take a few days and think on it, before I continue to write anymore.


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