Where have I gone?

Dr. Seuss's waiting place.  I am the last blue person in line.

2 weeks.  at least.  since I have written.  wow.
What is keeping me from this?
Every time I sit down at the keyboard, I am empty.
The only voice I hear echoes, 'I have nothing to say.'
And I believe it...

Also, I have had my first negative feedback about this blog, and I am scared.
Scared that in my effort to tell the truth, I say too much.
How do I...do this, right?
There it is...that nemesis of truth.  Right.
Right implies Wrong.
No wonder I can't find words.

I sit here now, in my post-run sweat.
Cut off black dress slacks which somehow serve as jogging shorts.
My braids are trying so hard to be significant.  They are maybe 3 inches long.
In every way, I am trying to get somewhere.

To a place where my hair is longer, and I am less scared.
Where I am in better shape, my legs more solid, and my run fluid.
I am hoping to be more "Sarah."
I am my own ideal reflected in old pictures from times when my life made more sense.
And when I get there, I will paint everyday.
I will have arrived.  Whom do I expect to meet?  Other idealized, realized, actualizations of people?

Funny thing is.  I remember how I felt when those pictures were taken of me at a size 4 with 3 feet of hair.  I was the same.  I was just the same, only now I've experienced more life.  Now I am 32 instead of 25.  And if I've learned anything, it is this: everything I fear does not have to be scary, but it is anyway, and my path is through it.  Right now, I am walking through my eating disorder recovery out loud.

I was asked to do a youth group for anorexic and bulimic women.  So that is next.  And I am afraid I won't be able to help anyone.  But I am doing it anyway.  Why not?

Here I go...don't stop no matter what.
My running/life mantra