I am blessed in so many extraordinary ways, and I’m thankful for my life. It’s more comfortable than it has been since I left New York. In some ways life is better than it was in New York. I’ve come a long way in getting comfortable in my own skin, and I’m happy most of the time.
After gaining about 25-ish pounds last fall, I started working at taking those pounds off. I caught myself moving in the wrong direction and stopped myself. I dropped about half of the weight I gained before getting complacent again. I’m not gaining weight, but I’m not losing it either. I know exactly why, and yet I feel so helpless to change it.
The last few weeks have been stressful, and I haven’t made exercise, healthy food or sleep a priority. I feel like I’ve let everyone down – my trainer, my readers, my family, myself…But I know that the only person who’s really hurt by my choices is me.
I feel like a failure for going through so many ups and downs. I feel fat, lazy and unmotivated to change it even though I’m making strides in other areas. I feel defined by my size, and I don’t know how to change it. Spare me the “calories in, calories out” speech please because I already know how it works. This is a battle inside my mind.
I know that I need to make quality choices, and I know how amazing I’d feel if I dropped into the 280’s again. I know. I know. I know. I know. I know! What the hell is my problem? Am I just a horrible person who is incapable of making any more positive changes? Obviously, that question is ridiculous, but it’s how I’m feeling.
I’m driving myself crazy with guilt, but the empty feeling I get between the hours of 9 pm and 1 am are more overpowering than my desire to be a better version of myself. I am going to win this battle, but I don’t know how or when. I just know that something has to change. I have to change – to be fit, to be as happy and confident as I can be, to feel worthy of the good things that are happening in my life.
The truth is that I’m afraid. I’m scared to death that the success that feels like an old, vanishing dream is gone. How in the heck do I fix this? How do I convince myself to look at food as something I need to be be healthy as opposed to something I need to make me whole in an emotional sense? How do I get to a place in which I can do something consistently (other than trying and failing?)
I’m frustrated and feeling like a complete and utter failure. I have to change this, and I wish I knew how to do it.
Update: As soon as I finished writing this post, I took the elevator down to the bottom floor of my building, and I took the stairs to the top where the gym is. (It’s hundreds of steps. I lost track.) By the time I got there, I was warmed up, and I hit it hard. One workout and one healthy meal following that workout doesn’t change the things I said above, but it’s a tiny step in the right direction.
I’m still pissed at myself, but I’m trying to change it.