I have been writing for a while. As a young girl, I remember having diaries..a lot of them. I wrote about everything I could think of, school work, the trying times of being that awkward kid surrounded by prettier more popular girls in school, how my parents did not understand what I was going through among other childish girly things. But my problem then that I always felt that I have to live an exciting life worth writing about.
I believed I had to go out there and live it up! Travel! Do something, take up a hobby! Go meet new people and date! Take on careers to change the world! But I figured if I did all that stuff, I don’t even know if I’d have enough time to write anything at all.
And even when I did want to write, like I did during the trying times of my mother’s cancer, I could never find myself doing it. I felt I could never find the words to describe what I went through, or perhaps that I was afraid to be misunderstood. My command on the written language isn’t great. I never saw myself as a writer of any sort. I dabbled. Just because I have a blog, a few fanfictions (which I never finished) doesn’t make me a writer, in the same way that I cook at home doesn’t make me a chef.
Initially I balked at the idea of going back to this blog. I was this close to deleting it and just maintaining my other hobby/work blog. But since the start of my diet, my fiance Pointyman2000 insisted that a blog might help keep me in track. And when I posted that ridiculously long post yesterday, I felt a strange burden lift off my shoulders and I felt happier than I did before I wrote it.
Maybe the fact that I was expressing myself again. That somehow writing has allowed me a way to channel some of my nervous energies, energies that during the most trying times in my life (my mother’s cancer, my own illness and my mother’s death) burned inward, coalescing into a ball of negativity that greatly impacted how I lived my life.
Okay, I’m stopping it right now. I’m beginning to sound little too emo on that last sentence.
Yes, it’s my second day of the Cohen and I’m not sure how to feel yet except maybe I haven’t gone to the toilet and do the “passing of motion” (the term I picked up in my previous stay in Singapore for “to poop”). We were warned about this so I’ll be taking the precaution of drinking a glass of water mixed with a tablespoon of Psyllium Husk to help promote “movement.”
I tend to giggle madly every time I say that out loud to myself. “Movement.” Teehee!
I’m coping well enough so far. I don’t feel as hungry as I did yesterday. I made the mistake of starving myself some crispbreads/crackers. I thought I was allowed 2 servings per day, I was apparently allowed 5 servings, but I have to eat 2 at a time only. My bad. It would explain why I was so gassy and acidic yesterday.
Over all, my energy so far is good. Though I do feel I’m getting tired a little too quickly than I did before (again I was told to expect that for the first few weeks), but thankfully I’m still able to do my chores. I hope that means I’d still have enough energy to bathe my cat, Eclair.
Wish me luck. I’m about to suit up and prep the first aid kit.