So We Meet Again

This post has been in my drafts for exactly one month and I haven’t published because I’m too embarrassed. Too ashamed. Too angry. Too frustrated. Too tired. And most of all, too over it. I’m not sure why I am finally publishing it. Maybe I’m just sick of it all and ready to move on. Maybe I’m hoping someone will have the magic answer for me. Maybe I just need some support. Whatever the reason, here it is.

I got on the scale this morning, saw THAT number and thought, “so, here we are again.” This is not where I want to be. Of course, I didn’t need the scale to tell me any of that. I have a mirror; I can see what I look like. I have pants; I can feel how tight they are. I can tell that I physically feel crappy. My stomach hurts. I’m more tired. My skin even has a different look.

I’ve been slowly gaining since the summer. One pound here, half a pound there. But guess what all that adds up to? Me being right where I was two years ago.

stats

I just can’t believe it. I cannot believe I am here again. Let’s be honest, there’s one word that comes to mind when we gain back our weight: FAILURE. There’s no getting around it. No blaming anyone else. It’s not the weather’s fault that it got cold out or the winter’s fault that it’s dark so early. It’s not the box of chocolate’s fault that I ate the entire thing (and two more). It’s not my dad’s fault that he brought over a cake for at least 20 people and that I ate more than half. It’s not my son’s fault that he still wakes up during the night and then very early in the morning and so I’m tired. It’s not the train’s fault that it has a schedule and so I have to leave the house early in the morning. It’s not my husband’s fault that he made a heavier meal and that I ate multiple servings. It’s not the internet’s fault that it has way too much information so that I get totally overwhelmed trying to understand every food, additive, preserve, diet, exercise, activity, etc.

Sure, there are a number of circumstances that contributed to this: depression, work situations, money troubles, etc. Frankly, I’m pretty overwhelmed with life in general. But it all comes down to one thing. It’s me. It’s my fault and mine alone. That also means there’s only one person who can fix this. Me, Myself and I.

So here I go again. I don’t have a plan. I don’t have a clue what I’m going to do.

What I do have is knowledge about everything I need to, the tools to make that happen (for the most part), and the experience to put those in place. I know I will get back on track, but that first step is a hard one. And the first step after you’ve taken that first step a million times before (or at least a dozen to be more accurate), to me, is even harder.

I want to look in the mirror and be happy with what I see. I want to put on clothes and still breathe. I want to see a picture my son drew and not think, “please don’t let me be the fat one.”

I want to be healthy. I want to be healthy. I want to be healthy.

I read an article the other day about a lady in her 60s who was a surrogate for her daughter, and the first thing I thought was, “I’d never be healthy enough to do that.” Never mind that no one has asked me to, nor do I plan on it, the point being that my health is always on my mind.

So that’s it. I’m back here and there’s nothing I can do about that. I can, however, do something about what comes next.

I’m done with this whole failure bullshit. Let’s go. It’s 4th and Goal with the game on the line. I have only one option. Win. Success. Health.

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