Damaged

“What if I am damaged?  Damaged and I am not sure why.  Or how.  And how can I fix anything about myself when I don’t know what I need to be fixing or how.”  Paige rambled as she paced and I didn’t know how long I could listen. 

Paige went through this monologue at least once every three months, but nothing ever changed.  Nothing I  said made any difference and it was exhausting watching her cry on a regular basis. 

“Paige, what do you want me to do?  How can I help?”  I went through the motions of trying to help full well knowing she wouldn’t take any of my advice. 

“Well, I don’t really know.  I need to figure out how to do this on my own.” 

Paige continued to pace back and forth, back and forth, but slowed.  I knew exactly what was going to come next.  She was going to start a juice fast and would start going to the gym again.  Though most of her time at the gym would be spent checking out the clothes the other women were wearing and paying attention to what men were noticing her. 

She would feel better for a while because she was eating healthier and working out, but when she started dressing like the women at the gym and think no one was nothing her changing body, she would spiral.  Again.  For the third time in six years. I just wouldn’t be here to pick up the pieces.