Certain

Each memory washes over me, and instead of feeling like I'm drowning, I'm allowing them to come. They blow through me...waves of pain, but with every breath, I feel them crashing against the shore and floating away with the tide.
One of the memories I have is of "The hands." I wrote the poem below, and after it was finished, I actually felt like I could truly breathe, as if the hands had been suffocating me for so very long. In letting go, there is also a strange sadness that I don't quite understand yet. I feel an ache so tangible that I can almost reach out and touch it. Part of me longs for the numbness to return, and I know how to find it. I spend a lot of energy pushing it away...fighting the eating disorder and fighting to stay present. I want my life back.