Yesterday I watched a woman sitting in front of the bank across the street. She caught my eye because she was rubbing her legs furiously, wincing as her fingers moved up and down her shins. When she dipped a plate in water and poured it over her legs I thought perhaps she was washing her body, but when she started talking to people who were not there, I knew the truth. She was mentally ill. I sat on the floor of the balcony and hid behind a chair as best I could, but it wasn't because I was afraid she would see me. My presence would not interrupt the party she was having with her imaginary companions. She was perfectly content pouring water over her legs, picking leaves off the hedges, and handing both to the figments of her imagination. I was just awed…and a little jealous of her ability to be completely ambivalent to others. You see, I spend a lot of time worrying about what other people think. I have an idea of the person I want to be and how I want others to see me. So...

I've been forced lately to learn a lesson in control...or lack thereof. This has been especially difficult for someone like me who started doing her own laundry in first grade. I have my own brand of delusion in which I think I have the power to change minds, influence moods, and keep the Earth spinning on its axis. So...maybe I don't have as much control as I think I do. Or should. For the last few months, I've thrown myself into a tailspin of exhaustive Internet searches and photo analysis. I've uncovered some truths and unearthed a few lies. There's power in knowledge, but with that power comes the realization that the world isn't as perfect as it seems. After spending nine years with a man who was in love with another woman and losing a fiance to his former girlfriend, I'm a little gun-shy about other women. The thought of dealing with that again terrifies me some days, so I go on the offensive to prevent it. All my energy goes into working out, ...

Four years ago, I made the decision to wake up in a different country each June 23. It was my way of celebrating my then newfound freedom. Peru. Spain. Dominican Republic. We've had some amazing trips together in this journey. This year, though, I will be waking on June 23 in Florida--on my way to New Hampshire for a week. When I realized the date, I was struck with an odd combination of sadness and bliss and almost considered how I could wake up in Santo Domingo before flying to Boston. Then I realized that I don't have to do anything. It's the end of an era in my life, and it's the beginning of a new one. This new one is so much better, and I was reminded of this again today. I've been trying to get back into an exercise routine, and the goal right now is to DO something each day. For the last week and a half, I've been doing a circuit of 3 types of push ups, squats, pulses, mountain climbers, and burpees. Doing the exercises is not a big deal; doing them in f...