This is the Place.

My head hurts. I have an ache in my back, and my right heel hurts when I walk. I have sleep apnea and I use a mask overnight to sleep. When I wake up, and for several hours afterward, I have marks on my cheeks from the mask straps. My husband won't hold me when I have the mask on my face. (But he will kiss my cheek in the morning before he goes to work).

I feel like crying because I apparently have to get through another day. I layed in bed for about 80 minutes because I didn't want to face another day. I finally got up, after telling myself that I can control what I eat for breakfast. I rarely have a problem with that. It's only when I decide to have pancakes or when Jim cooks that I have trouble.

So I got up and ate a cup of Kashi's Heart to Heart cereal with a banana and a little skim milk.

I learned to eat my emotions so long ago. About ten years ago I realized what I was doing. It took me another three or four to realize that it was in my control to do something about it. Then I got breast cancer and have been recovering for a little over four years.

This is the place where I'll let it all hang out. Where I'll spill my guts. Where I'll talk about everything that's bothering me, and everything I'm doing to help myself. Where I'll talk about my passive-aggressive in-laws, the jackass priest who fired me while I was recovering from breast cancer, my kids, my husband, my asshole brother whom our father thinks walks on water, my quasi-search for a job, my book writing, and whatever else comes up.

I hope that this is the place where I'll discover myself.