a sort of deja vu.

I had this exact moment today at 7:45 a.m. Right down to the morning bowl of Cheerios (though it was actually Kashi Heart-to-Heart cereal):

This is the weird aftermath, when it is not exactly over, and yet you have given it up. You go back and forth in your head, often, about giving it up. It's hard to understand when you're sitting there in your chair, having breakfast or whatever, that giving it up is stronger than holding on, that ‘letting yourself go’ could mean you have succeeded rather than failed.

You eat your goddamn cheerios and bicker with the bitch in your head who keeps telling you you're fat and weak: Shut up, you say, I'm busy, leave me alone.

When she leaves you alone, there is a silence and a solitude that will take some getting used to. You will miss her sometimes. Bear in mind she’s trying to kill you. Bear in mind you have a life to live. There is an incredible loss. There is profound grief. And there is, in the end, after a long time and more work than you ever thought possible, a time when it gets easier.

The memory of that phrase "there is profound grief," popped into my head tonight. Something in the back of my head was whispering to me, "profound grief, profound grief." So I opened up the book, searched for the exact paragraph, and let my jaw drop to the floor.

Re-reading it after several months literally took my breath away.

When written words link perfectly to your life like the teeth of a zipper, you can't help but feel a little safer, and a little warmer than before.