Thursday 2 August 2012

Meltdown


The tears started pricking my eyes somewhere around the third round of the traffic lights going from red to green. By the fifth round, my cheeks were squinching up in an effort to stop myself.

But there I was on the corner of 13th Street and Fifth Avenue, crying because I couldn't get a cab home. At age 37.

I might add that it was a summer weeknight, not at primetime, not raining – it should have been dead easy. But cabs were coming from both directions full or off duty, dozens of them. And though I live not far from there, I was tired and in pain and did not want to walk one more step.

Eventually I gave up, walking – well, limp/shuffling – home, crying a little and muttering, like a crazy person, "I f—king hate New York. I f—king hate this f—king city."

Which I don't, but I surely did that moment. I was tired. Tired of the fight to get what I need, in so many ways.

I called a friend and left a choked up voicemail. And in the two minutes and thirty seconds, I calmed down and carried on walking home.

It did not occur to me for even one second that food would make it better. It did not occur to me to binge.

Day 28.  

3 comments:

  1. And that is a HUGE thing, isn't it? I'm sorry your evening sucked, but so glad you didn't binge. I hope that dang foot heals quickly.

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  2. I'm with Claire, it's a HUGE thing that you didn't binge. Most triumphant, as Bill and Ted said many years ago.

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