I do Not Want What I Haven't Got

I am a woman I don't recognize but want to.

I studied myself in the mirror this morning trying to learn what's the same and what isn't.
Are my cheeks moving up? Does my jaw look tighter, tougher? Do my shoulders look softer, further away from my face?

Changes working from the inside, so much and so fast I think I can see it.

Letting go of the idea that it isn't worth going to the gym for less than 150 minutes at a time. The absolute terror about what happens if I miss a day. The inability to sit still for more than two hours without getting snappy and distracted.

I feel it in this settling rhythm. Mine.

Maybe it’s not being with someone who always makes me feel like I'm giving a little more than I want to. Buttering his toast. Clearing his plate. Folding his clothes. Always being the one to apologize, admit I was wrong. Stretching. Because that’s what love is. That’s how you know, right? You find that person you’re willing to stretch for.

I could have ended up not like myself at all. Stretched too thin. The woman I saw in the mirror today wasn’t me. Not his me, anyway. She looked like she wasn’t fiendishly watching what she eats, like she enjoyed her breakfast and her long walk outside. Like she’d find her way around a city by herself without letting him think he was the one, really, who figured out how to get there. Like she’d rather be outside sitting in the sun drinking wine than squeezing in a workout in the late afternoon. Like she might wake up in the morning with no real schedule and relish it.

I'd like nothing more than to bring this nearly 30 year old woman to life. All by myself.