Yesterday, I got to go back to the gym for the first time since October, thanks to my very special friends Sharon and Shannon who watched Josh for me. As soon as I stepped onto the elliptical, I felt a rush backwards -- into everything that I used to be before having a baby. In shape. Depressed (but working on it.) Powerful, despite everything. It was such a trip. I spent the saddest months of my life on the elliptical and stairmaster. Somehow, when I got on them, everything else became manageable, and the same was true yesterday, too. After I got past the first 10 minutes, I felt like I could keep going indefinitely, and to be honest, it was tempting. For a short while, it didn't matter that I'm not his prize and never will be, it didn't matter that I'm a single mother of a baby who never sleeps longer than 2.5 hours at a time, it didn't matter that I feel trapped in my life... I just zoned out and got a little bit high on the endorphins. It sure beats the old coping mechanisms of my past -- wine, cigarettes and pills.

I didn't want to leave the gym, but I didn't want to take advantage of Sharon and Shannon's goodwill. Walking back to their apartment, I felt totally free. I was able to just walk down the street without worrying about the wind blowing too strongly in Josh's face. I was able to go into the Second Cup without trying to wrangle the stroller through the door. I was able to go to the bank without worrying about him freaking out and throwing a fit that would cause everyone to look at me like I'm a terrible mother. For a moment, yesterday, I had myself back and it was glorious. I didn't feel the desperation I do day in and day out (which I think allows me to obsess about the Boy Who Will Never Love Me.) I felt so good, I wanted to spin around and throw my hat in the air. It was a little bit like heroin, I think.