A Confession

I'm having trouble with the idea of taking life back into my own hands. I'm trying, but it's hard and I'm tentative and unsure about every action. Part of me is always waiting for the repercussions of my actions to hit. I can't remember the last time I wasn't subject to the will of my body. If I wasn't weak that day, I would move. If my stomach wasn't nauseous or in pain, I would eat. If my body didn't want to sleep, I would be awake. I would take whatever break my body would grant me and be grateful for that. Never asking it for anything more because of the harsh punishment that would follow afterward in the form of pain and weakness.

Back then, every decision I made about my life and my actions were based on the avoidance of pain. But now that the scale is tipping, and I actually have some control back in my life. I'm finding myself sort of of overwhelmed by it all. I'm also ashamed to say that there have been a few moments where I find myself wanting to run from it all and curl back up in bed. At least there I knew a little bit of what to expect and knew how to handle the situations I came across. But these real world situations I'm starting to face about life, careers, friends, boys, moral complexes... they are harder and more unpredictable then I'd imagined. And I really want to be a good person. I want to make choices in my life that will lead me somewhere that I can be proud of. And I really don't want to screw any of that up.

Now, all that said, I wouldn't trade it for the world. I love being stronger and I love that I've been given a chance to actually live life. I think I just wasn't expecting these darker emotions. The fear and the confusion. I don't think I ever factored them into the process of coming back to life and health. I always kind of assumed that life would make sense once I was healthy again, but I suppose I can't really expect it to be as simple as that.