I know I have a legitimate right to feel sad and angry in the light of this ectopic pregnancy, but I am kind of sick of feeling sorry for myself too, and I think that’s a good thing.  I wouldn’t say I’m “moving on” or “putting it behind me” but it’s gradually becoming just another chapter in the narrative of my life.

I’m going back to work on Monday, even though part of me would love to just stay home under the covers for another month or seven, I know most of me will be better off and happier with a more normal structure and life.

The indulgence “poor me” eating has been limited but still present, and that needs to end too.  Yesterday I had a Starbucks Vanilla Frappucino because it is sweet and soothing and not for any other reason.  Usually I can pass on that kind of thing but yesterday I sought it out, knowing that it was a kind of “final farewell” to that kind of excess calories.  I need to get back to exercise too.  One step at a time, however.  I’ll do some walking this weekend, head back to work next week, and  hopefully by the week after be able to combine the two.