Last night, I woke up at 4:00am and couldn't get my brain to stop the loop of texts my husband had sent to this woman, visions of them flirting, and the feeling that I will never be ok. I switched on the light (much to Rex's dismay), read two chapters of a book, and finally just started crying. I cried over the memories and the pain but also over what I saw in the bleak early morning hours as a complete loss of "progress". I hadn't cried in a few days. I think about it all constantly but have been feeling more numb to the constant pain. But in that moment, it was too much to bear again and I let it out.
I cried myself back to sleep but still felt crummy and disappointed when I woke up this morning. As someone who loves to track progression, it felt like a loss, a backslide. But just like weight loss or strength gains, progress is almost never linear. There are good days and there are not-so-good days, and slowly the good days are becoming more frequent while the bad days and bad moments become more spaced out. So I'm writing it out, giving myself space to be sad, then putting it away and taking another step forward.