I've been thinking about this entry for some time now. Well, thinking is probably the wrong word. Procrastinating is more accurate.
I want to start by thanking those who asked me where I was, whether I was still on track. I know I didn't respond to you, but I want you to know now it wasn't out of ingratitude, but shame. But I want to thank you now, because your words continued to swirl around in my mind long after I read them. They've kept me in a place where I can't forget, I can't push this aside. And you'll never know how much you kept me on track, even when I was off of it.
So, same old, same old. Small victory, jumping off the wagon to go look for some food, and hiding from it when it's time to get back on. There is some good news. 241.2. When I got on the scale this morning (I've been avoiding that too), I was fully expecting the 250's to be staring back at me. I weighed myself several times, just to be sure it wasn't a fluke. 241.2. Not too terrible. Much better than I'd anticipated. But my birthday has come and gone, and the 220's are still far, far away.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again. This is much more a mental game than a physical one. I've been here for a long time, and as much as I want to be in a different place, there's a comfort to this place that's hard to leave behind. You'd think it'd be the opposite, right? The high of success, the energy of healthy eating, the euphoria of pounds and inches melting away...how could I possibly want to stay here? Unless you've done this, its impossible to understand. I know some of you have, and I wouldn't be surprised if you totally get what I'm saying here.
Habits have been a struggle for me my whole life. My habits (thumb-sucking, nail biting, eating, etc) have all been soothing mechanisms, or a way to release tension and stress. No, I don't suck my thumb now, but I did for many years beyond when it would be appropriate or expected. I still bite my nails when I'm nervous, and I still eat when I'm emotional. Trying not to do those things makes me think about it constantly.
I still feel like I can't adequately put words to the mental struggle. It's a constant state of awareness, every moment, every pang of hunger a choice. And when you make the wrong choice, the self-berating disappointment.
Yeesh, this is so depressing. I'm not really feeling depressed, just frustrated at my lack of willpower. Tired of settling for "good enough". I have 80 more pounds to lose. A staggering number. And even though I'm not, I feel like I'm back at the beginning again. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
