This week has been hard.

Not just "I'm tired" hard. But "I'm questioning everything" hard. "I'm wondering if I should even be doing this" hard.

And I need to be honest about it.

It's the unknown future. It's the psychosis. It's people. It's the words they say.

It's the fear that if I don't reach out, if I don't call, if I don't be the one who always initiates—they'll forget me.

That's the real fear underneath this fast.

Not that I'll be lonely. But that I'll be forgotten.

Yes, I'm questioning whether I should continue this fast.

Because it's hard. Harder than I thought it would be.

And I think people don't realize how hard it is. I think they think I'm just being dramatic or stubborn.

But the emotional weight of this? The fear of being forgotten? The psychosis that comes with isolation?

That's real.

People who doubt that I can do it.

That sounds backwards, but it's true. There's something about proving people wrong that keeps me going.

And I think people don't think it's hard. So I'm going to show them. I'm going to finish this fast. I'm going to prove that I can do something difficult.

Even if it means sitting with the fear of being forgotten.

What surprised me most about how hard this is? The emotional feeling of what could happen if I don't help them to remember me.

If I don't call. If I don't reach out.

Will they forget? Will they move on? Will they realize they don't need me?

That's the real terror.

Not the fast itself. But what the fast might reveal about the relationships I've been holding onto.

So I played pickleball.

I went to the park with some friends and their kids. And for a few hours, I didn't think about the fast. I didn't think about being forgotten. I didn't think about the psychosis.

I just played.

And it was amazing.

In-person interaction. Physical activity. Laughter. Kids running around. The simple joy of hitting a ball back and forth.

It took my mind off everything.

This fast isn't just about not calling people. It's about sitting with the fear that I'm not worth remembering unless I'm constantly reaching out.

It's about realizing that my worth isn't dependent on how much I initiate.

It's about learning that people can care about me even if I'm not the one always showing up first.

And it's about facing the psychosis that comes with that realization.

I'm still doing the fast. I'm still not calling anyone.

But I'm also allowing people to reach out to me. I'm allowing myself to show up when invited. I'm allowing myself to play pickleball, laugh, and be present. I’m even allowing myself to call necessary people.

And I'm sitting with the fear. Not running from it. Not numbing it with constant reaching out.

Just sitting with it.

Because that's where the real growth happens.