So this has been quite a year. Last year at this time, I was just given a job offer (of what would be my third job in 2013). On August 7, I would walk out of the job I had over the summer, after my kitten dying and my transmission on my car failing. I was about 6 months into my relationship.
This February, my Quigley passed, my first furbaby. In June my mom died. And on July 25, I got engaged. What a roller coaster! So my head is basically spinning at this point. I'm SO excited about my upcoming wedding, and I'm so sad that my mom didn't live to see it, since she absolutely adored my fiance. I feel poor, so the prospect of a wedding next year is even more daunting. And here I am thinking, "shit, I better get this weight off already."
I still wish I could figure out what happened to me, to gain back 90lb. I don't have a clue. I know I had issues with the sciatica so my mobility was impaired for a while. I also had walking pnemonia all last spring, and the year before that a sinus infection. But, it's 90lb. That's a lot to just gain back. And that makes me wonder if I can succeed in losing it again. When I started my weight loss journey, that wasn't my goal. I was just trying to cope with life, and exercise was my answer.
At any rate, Curtis is starting up at the gym again today so I have to keep up! He lost weight like it was easy last time, so I need to get my butt in gear and focus. I'm counting calories, but more than that, trying to be conscious of what I put in my mouth. And the alcohol has got to go. Special occasions excepted.
Wish me luck!
Tuesday, August 5, 2014
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
Working it out
Last week I had a couple really bad days. I was angry again. Probably about mom dying, though I didn't articulate much but being pissed off in general. Things can just be really shitty lately. I've been thinking about going back on my meds. I kind of want to numb myself, but I'm not sure that's what I need at this point.
I DO need to exercise. That seems a tough task though, partly because I'm trying to get my damn house in order, and also develop some semblance of a social life, while also going to bed early enough to not be zombified at work the next day. Balance is not something I'm seeing these days.
I'm eating a little better, though I say that the day after having mostly tortilla chips for dinner and feeling nauseous all night. Ok, so I'm not really eating better. I'm not running either. I did run a little bit last week, on a treadmill, and even on a treadmill it was wonderful. And I haven't done it since. Last Friday I was sort of ok and then decided to drink a bottle of wine and cry all night because I realized that it had been a month since mom died. So I posted an "I miss you" on Facebook and made my stepdad cry too. Wonderful.
And that is how life is going.
This week I'm very busy. Monday I had dinner at dad's. Last night I vacuumed and did some dishes. Tonight Lynn is coming over and we're going to check out the Pho place down the street that I've been curious about. Tomorrow I'm going to Mike's for dinner. Friday I'm hanging out with my stepdad. Saturday we're having two people over who also need places to sleep, so between now and then I need to finish cleaning and throwing things out and get the two other bedrooms habitable. This will involve me carrying big heavy boxes of clothing down to the basement, by myself, and potentially hurting my back. Woot. I'm kind of hoping tomorrow's plans will cancel.. we'll see...
Attempting to have a social life is exhausting. Grief is exhausting. Being responsible is exhausting. Is there anything that is NOT exhausting?
I DO need to exercise. That seems a tough task though, partly because I'm trying to get my damn house in order, and also develop some semblance of a social life, while also going to bed early enough to not be zombified at work the next day. Balance is not something I'm seeing these days.
I'm eating a little better, though I say that the day after having mostly tortilla chips for dinner and feeling nauseous all night. Ok, so I'm not really eating better. I'm not running either. I did run a little bit last week, on a treadmill, and even on a treadmill it was wonderful. And I haven't done it since. Last Friday I was sort of ok and then decided to drink a bottle of wine and cry all night because I realized that it had been a month since mom died. So I posted an "I miss you" on Facebook and made my stepdad cry too. Wonderful.
And that is how life is going.
This week I'm very busy. Monday I had dinner at dad's. Last night I vacuumed and did some dishes. Tonight Lynn is coming over and we're going to check out the Pho place down the street that I've been curious about. Tomorrow I'm going to Mike's for dinner. Friday I'm hanging out with my stepdad. Saturday we're having two people over who also need places to sleep, so between now and then I need to finish cleaning and throwing things out and get the two other bedrooms habitable. This will involve me carrying big heavy boxes of clothing down to the basement, by myself, and potentially hurting my back. Woot. I'm kind of hoping tomorrow's plans will cancel.. we'll see...
Attempting to have a social life is exhausting. Grief is exhausting. Being responsible is exhausting. Is there anything that is NOT exhausting?
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Life, death, and what you do in between
I've been away for a while. I hadn't even given my blog a second thought, although it had become a goal of mine to keep up with it (not that anyone's reading but me). But, then my mother died, and life just turned grey.
Sadly, I think we all know someone who has lost a parent. And, unless you're completely heartless, we've all felt really bad for those people. But until it happens to you, you don't really GET it. And I don't blame anyone for that- who would want to get it? I mean, seriously, before this happened, I'd sometimes think what life would be like without one of my parents, and I'd immediately start the water works. Now I'm living it, and it is weird. I've seen people be miserable for week, even months. And I have to admit it, I would think, yes you're really sad, and I'm sad for you too, but get past this already.
It's not that easy. For me, it's only been about a month. OR, it's been almost a whole month. I've told a few people, my mom's death was a shock and devastating, but it wasn't a surprise. She'd been working her way toward it for some time, in one fashion or another. She was only 64 but was living in the body of an 80 year old. She had emphizema or COPD or both, and possibly even lung cancer, not that she'd ever go to a doctor for breathing complaints. She kept falling down, one time, the most recent time, breaking a bone in her leg. The break went pretty much untreated because she ignored a severely swollen knee for over a week before seeing the doctor. At that point, there was nothing they could do for the break. Mom also drank too much. She lived on rusty nails, a combination of whisky and drambuie, and would drink them by the pint, sometimes for breakfast.
I never thought, though, that mom would go into surgery for a digestive complaint and die as a result. I was there, after. I saw the body. It still seems like it didn't happen. I still can't imagine not having my mom.
Saturday, we had a memorial party, which she'd told me ages ago she wanted. It was a way for people to express their sorrow and condolences, and to remember her, and get some closure. I'm not really feeling the closure right now. I keep wanting to tell mom about what happened at the party. I think of something funny and want to write to her (she never talked on the phone). But she won't get my message, and she certainly won't respond. She was supposed to be there forever. Or at least until I got married again. At least until I turned 50. Or 40, for goodness sakes. But no, she's gone. She's really gone.
Today I was trying to psych myself up for running, getting fit again, feeling better about myself. I kept telling myself, don't end up like that. It's a shame that mom's mistakes should be such a poignant message to me. I'm already pretty sure that I'll be downgrading to the 5k at the Baltimore Running Festival this year. Mom's death kind of derailed my training plans. The weather hasn't helped either. She'd probably say something rude to me about "giving up." Because, you know, deciding it'd be better to try my best at a 5k than to keep pretending I'm going to be able to do 13.1 miles, is giving up. I'd give anything to have her scold me and make me feel bad, just to hear her voice again.
SO, tonight I'm going to the gym. I'm charging my ipod. I'll do arc trainer and some weights and then go home and think about cleaning. My poor house and garden have been terribly neglected after all this. I think about stuff but am not nearly as productive as I had been. I hope that in time it'll come back. Til then, I have to force myself to do the most basic tasks. You really never know what the death of a parent will be like until it happens to you.
Sadly, I think we all know someone who has lost a parent. And, unless you're completely heartless, we've all felt really bad for those people. But until it happens to you, you don't really GET it. And I don't blame anyone for that- who would want to get it? I mean, seriously, before this happened, I'd sometimes think what life would be like without one of my parents, and I'd immediately start the water works. Now I'm living it, and it is weird. I've seen people be miserable for week, even months. And I have to admit it, I would think, yes you're really sad, and I'm sad for you too, but get past this already.
It's not that easy. For me, it's only been about a month. OR, it's been almost a whole month. I've told a few people, my mom's death was a shock and devastating, but it wasn't a surprise. She'd been working her way toward it for some time, in one fashion or another. She was only 64 but was living in the body of an 80 year old. She had emphizema or COPD or both, and possibly even lung cancer, not that she'd ever go to a doctor for breathing complaints. She kept falling down, one time, the most recent time, breaking a bone in her leg. The break went pretty much untreated because she ignored a severely swollen knee for over a week before seeing the doctor. At that point, there was nothing they could do for the break. Mom also drank too much. She lived on rusty nails, a combination of whisky and drambuie, and would drink them by the pint, sometimes for breakfast.
I never thought, though, that mom would go into surgery for a digestive complaint and die as a result. I was there, after. I saw the body. It still seems like it didn't happen. I still can't imagine not having my mom.
Saturday, we had a memorial party, which she'd told me ages ago she wanted. It was a way for people to express their sorrow and condolences, and to remember her, and get some closure. I'm not really feeling the closure right now. I keep wanting to tell mom about what happened at the party. I think of something funny and want to write to her (she never talked on the phone). But she won't get my message, and she certainly won't respond. She was supposed to be there forever. Or at least until I got married again. At least until I turned 50. Or 40, for goodness sakes. But no, she's gone. She's really gone.
Today I was trying to psych myself up for running, getting fit again, feeling better about myself. I kept telling myself, don't end up like that. It's a shame that mom's mistakes should be such a poignant message to me. I'm already pretty sure that I'll be downgrading to the 5k at the Baltimore Running Festival this year. Mom's death kind of derailed my training plans. The weather hasn't helped either. She'd probably say something rude to me about "giving up." Because, you know, deciding it'd be better to try my best at a 5k than to keep pretending I'm going to be able to do 13.1 miles, is giving up. I'd give anything to have her scold me and make me feel bad, just to hear her voice again.
SO, tonight I'm going to the gym. I'm charging my ipod. I'll do arc trainer and some weights and then go home and think about cleaning. My poor house and garden have been terribly neglected after all this. I think about stuff but am not nearly as productive as I had been. I hope that in time it'll come back. Til then, I have to force myself to do the most basic tasks. You really never know what the death of a parent will be like until it happens to you.
Wednesday, May 14, 2014
Emotion
This has been a tough week already, and it's only Wednesday morning. Monday was stressful as hell, and then my boss yelled at me. Or rather, made me feel like I seriously effed up and would never be able to recover. But I didn't cry and I plowed ahead and did my best to fix the problem.
Tuesday morning I had a gyno visit. My tasks there were to talk to her about my (annoying) frequent peeing, and maybe ask her about my fertility. I mentioned the peeing thing, and downplayed it, and she said drink less caffeine. Ok, fine. Then she asked if anything has changed healthwise, and I said "other than weight gain (voice cracking), no." And I gulped. And then I was on the verge of tears the rest of the visit. She told me to go on Weight Watchers and exercise. That the patients she has that have been most successful at losing and keeping it off did that. She was trying to be helpful. She told me her daughter and son have both gained weight and she's trying to help them figure out what to do. Normally, my gyno is a bit of a cold fish, unreadable, but efficient, and always willing to answer questions. This was a time she showed compassion, and I really appreciated it. I didn't feel like she was telling me "you're a fat slob and a failure." No, that voice was in MY head. She acknowledged the issue and reminded me that it's all on me. I'm the only one who can fix it. And once again I started feeling hopeless.
I've noticed my emotions getting all out of whack again. It started a couple months after I stopped the Prozac. I probably shouldn't have stopped the Prozac, but I was convinced it was hurting my weight and I really don't want to be medicated all the time. And that's where the exercise comes in. I can manage it a little with exercise, but right now my depression and anxiety are making me put that off too.
Last night a friend of mine popped up in chat- we hadn't talked for several weeks. I think I misread her and thought I was annoying her. She said several times that she really missed me. I told her I need therapy again (she referred me to probably the only therapist that actually helped me). I need to get a new mental health card and just make a damn appointment. I'm still wondering if I might be bipolar 2. Or just nuts. Either way, I need a professional to help me. I need to do something about this. I can't just be on the verge of tears every waking minute. It's exhausting, nevermind embarassing.
Tuesday morning I had a gyno visit. My tasks there were to talk to her about my (annoying) frequent peeing, and maybe ask her about my fertility. I mentioned the peeing thing, and downplayed it, and she said drink less caffeine. Ok, fine. Then she asked if anything has changed healthwise, and I said "other than weight gain (voice cracking), no." And I gulped. And then I was on the verge of tears the rest of the visit. She told me to go on Weight Watchers and exercise. That the patients she has that have been most successful at losing and keeping it off did that. She was trying to be helpful. She told me her daughter and son have both gained weight and she's trying to help them figure out what to do. Normally, my gyno is a bit of a cold fish, unreadable, but efficient, and always willing to answer questions. This was a time she showed compassion, and I really appreciated it. I didn't feel like she was telling me "you're a fat slob and a failure." No, that voice was in MY head. She acknowledged the issue and reminded me that it's all on me. I'm the only one who can fix it. And once again I started feeling hopeless.
I've noticed my emotions getting all out of whack again. It started a couple months after I stopped the Prozac. I probably shouldn't have stopped the Prozac, but I was convinced it was hurting my weight and I really don't want to be medicated all the time. And that's where the exercise comes in. I can manage it a little with exercise, but right now my depression and anxiety are making me put that off too.
Last night a friend of mine popped up in chat- we hadn't talked for several weeks. I think I misread her and thought I was annoying her. She said several times that she really missed me. I told her I need therapy again (she referred me to probably the only therapist that actually helped me). I need to get a new mental health card and just make a damn appointment. I'm still wondering if I might be bipolar 2. Or just nuts. Either way, I need a professional to help me. I need to do something about this. I can't just be on the verge of tears every waking minute. It's exhausting, nevermind embarassing.
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
Time to get positive
It's time to get positive. I've been in a slump of negativity, and it's got to stop.
This past weekend, I ran in the Frederick Running Festival. I did the "Nut Job challenge", where I ran the 5k the Saturday evening (6pm start) and the half marathon on Sunday morning (7am start). At the 5k, my first mile was the fastest I've done in over a year, at 13:29 pace. I finished the 5k with a pace of just over 14 minutes- also an accomplishment. I was sore, but pumped, and my guy was there for me, which made it that much better.
I just watched the finish line video, and it's not something I'm going to share with the general public. I also have another new goal of looking more graceful at the finish line of a race..
So, Sunday morning, after only about 4 hours of sleep, Hal, Curtis, and I went to the starting line of the half marathon. There was much adjusting of shoes and removal of gravel from said shoes, nervous porta-potty visit, and spillage of the sports drink. Hal declared that he would stay with me for the duration. He was afraid, apparently, that I wouldn't make it before the course was pulled up. The Frederick Running Festival people made many warnings all over their emails and website that the course had a strict 3 hour 30-minute limit and that if you fell behind, you'd be forced to finish on the sidewalks. For about 10 miles, we kept up a pace of under 16 minutes. (a 16 minute pace is 3:30 finish time.) Alas, officer-not-so-friendly decided to stalk us around mile 9 or so and tell us that we were too slow and if we fell behind we'd be forced to the sidewalk. The cone collectors were behind him, pulling up the traffic cones that defined the runners lanes.
I was deflated, and pissed. There were several women around me, also doing their best to get to the end. I'd talked with two of them and their determination was inspiring. Yes, I wanted my damn medals, but I also wanted them to have their medals. For one, I knew it was her first half, and I suspect it was the other lady's first as well. I know the triumph of completing one's first half marathon. I wanted them to have that experience, untarnished.
I started to slow, and started feeling all of the aches and pains my brain had been ignoring to that point. 2.5 hours in and I started to give up. We walked on, but we only walked. I couldn't/ wouldn't make myself run. We went through two more water stops. The volunteers were lovely. I almost cried; I was so grateful to them, their encouragement, and their help (damn was I thirsty!). Then, we got lost. I called Curtis to ask him the next directions, which he conveyed to me just fine. We kept going. Then, we. got. lost. And I mean REALLY lost. We were in some kind of industrial yard, in the middle of downtown Frederick. What? Yeah... After another two phone calls, an angry text that wouldn't send, checking Google maps that didn't help, and a very helpful text from Curtis, we finally got back on track. We'd lost probably 10 minutes in that little adventure. The few people that were still behind us got ahead of us. I was angry, and emotional. It wasn't pretty. But we found the fairgrounds, and the racetrack, and I jogged across the finish. And later I discovered I made the Frederick Running Festival's FaceBook page, labeled as the last finisher. However, if you check the results, there were two other people behind me. Kudos to them for finishing, even though others gave up on them.
I got my damn medals. They're in my purse- I wanted to show a few people at work. They were very excited about my half marathon finish. And you know, as pissy as I felt at the time, I am proud I did it. I was so disappointed in myself up to now, knowing how much more in shape I was and how much better I did before. This was what I needed to get some confidence back. I really had to choke back tears at the finish. I didn't believe in myself at all. Now I know I can do it, even if I'm really out of shape. Training for Baltimore starts now. I will be awesome in October.
This past weekend, I ran in the Frederick Running Festival. I did the "Nut Job challenge", where I ran the 5k the Saturday evening (6pm start) and the half marathon on Sunday morning (7am start). At the 5k, my first mile was the fastest I've done in over a year, at 13:29 pace. I finished the 5k with a pace of just over 14 minutes- also an accomplishment. I was sore, but pumped, and my guy was there for me, which made it that much better.I just watched the finish line video, and it's not something I'm going to share with the general public. I also have another new goal of looking more graceful at the finish line of a race..
So, Sunday morning, after only about 4 hours of sleep, Hal, Curtis, and I went to the starting line of the half marathon. There was much adjusting of shoes and removal of gravel from said shoes, nervous porta-potty visit, and spillage of the sports drink. Hal declared that he would stay with me for the duration. He was afraid, apparently, that I wouldn't make it before the course was pulled up. The Frederick Running Festival people made many warnings all over their emails and website that the course had a strict 3 hour 30-minute limit and that if you fell behind, you'd be forced to finish on the sidewalks. For about 10 miles, we kept up a pace of under 16 minutes. (a 16 minute pace is 3:30 finish time.) Alas, officer-not-so-friendly decided to stalk us around mile 9 or so and tell us that we were too slow and if we fell behind we'd be forced to the sidewalk. The cone collectors were behind him, pulling up the traffic cones that defined the runners lanes. I was deflated, and pissed. There were several women around me, also doing their best to get to the end. I'd talked with two of them and their determination was inspiring. Yes, I wanted my damn medals, but I also wanted them to have their medals. For one, I knew it was her first half, and I suspect it was the other lady's first as well. I know the triumph of completing one's first half marathon. I wanted them to have that experience, untarnished.
I started to slow, and started feeling all of the aches and pains my brain had been ignoring to that point. 2.5 hours in and I started to give up. We walked on, but we only walked. I couldn't/ wouldn't make myself run. We went through two more water stops. The volunteers were lovely. I almost cried; I was so grateful to them, their encouragement, and their help (damn was I thirsty!). Then, we got lost. I called Curtis to ask him the next directions, which he conveyed to me just fine. We kept going. Then, we. got. lost. And I mean REALLY lost. We were in some kind of industrial yard, in the middle of downtown Frederick. What? Yeah... After another two phone calls, an angry text that wouldn't send, checking Google maps that didn't help, and a very helpful text from Curtis, we finally got back on track. We'd lost probably 10 minutes in that little adventure. The few people that were still behind us got ahead of us. I was angry, and emotional. It wasn't pretty. But we found the fairgrounds, and the racetrack, and I jogged across the finish. And later I discovered I made the Frederick Running Festival's FaceBook page, labeled as the last finisher. However, if you check the results, there were two other people behind me. Kudos to them for finishing, even though others gave up on them.I got my damn medals. They're in my purse- I wanted to show a few people at work. They were very excited about my half marathon finish. And you know, as pissy as I felt at the time, I am proud I did it. I was so disappointed in myself up to now, knowing how much more in shape I was and how much better I did before. This was what I needed to get some confidence back. I really had to choke back tears at the finish. I didn't believe in myself at all. Now I know I can do it, even if I'm really out of shape. Training for Baltimore starts now. I will be awesome in October.
Thursday, March 6, 2014
Day 3
Day 3 of my appetite suppressants and low carbs (none after lunch) and I'm down 2lb. I realize it might be water weight. Goodness knows I've been peeing every 5 seconds- especially last night which is why I didn't sleep very well. But, I'm hopeful. I hate that I'm watching the number on the scale so carefully, but I feel I have to do it. I know I need to lose 70lb. And once I do I'll still be considered overweight, if not obese.
We had birthday celebrations at work today. Cheesecake and brownies. Two of the most delicious things in the world. I ate none. There were also strawberries and grapes. I ate none. Why, you say? Fruit isn't bad for you. No, it's not, but by allowing myself to eat some of it, I'm sure my brain would translate that to, oh a nibble is fine. And then I'd take another and another. I can't risk it. I'm aiming for 5lb/week kind of results here, at least for the first few weeks. In order to do that, I must be strict.
I'm about a quarter of the way through the book "Why We Get Fat" and it's making some sense to me. Not entirely. The guy is trying to say that diet and exercise don't make you lose weight. And that exercise always makes you hungrier and therefore eat more. When I was exercising my maximum, I actually ate less. I also ate healthier. And I lost 120lb on the diet/exercise plan. I DO think that what you eat also has a lot to do with it. Since I'm not exercising as much right now, I'm eating a lot less to make up for it, in addition to changing what I eat. For example, there are pierogies in the freezer calling my name. I can't have them just now. I'm not sure what I'll do this weekend. That'll be the real test. I'll want pita chips and beer, and I really should stay away.
We had birthday celebrations at work today. Cheesecake and brownies. Two of the most delicious things in the world. I ate none. There were also strawberries and grapes. I ate none. Why, you say? Fruit isn't bad for you. No, it's not, but by allowing myself to eat some of it, I'm sure my brain would translate that to, oh a nibble is fine. And then I'd take another and another. I can't risk it. I'm aiming for 5lb/week kind of results here, at least for the first few weeks. In order to do that, I must be strict.
I'm about a quarter of the way through the book "Why We Get Fat" and it's making some sense to me. Not entirely. The guy is trying to say that diet and exercise don't make you lose weight. And that exercise always makes you hungrier and therefore eat more. When I was exercising my maximum, I actually ate less. I also ate healthier. And I lost 120lb on the diet/exercise plan. I DO think that what you eat also has a lot to do with it. Since I'm not exercising as much right now, I'm eating a lot less to make up for it, in addition to changing what I eat. For example, there are pierogies in the freezer calling my name. I can't have them just now. I'm not sure what I'll do this weekend. That'll be the real test. I'll want pita chips and beer, and I really should stay away.
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
at least once a day
I want to blog, just for the therapy. But I have absolutely nothing positive to say.
I was supposed to do the Va Beach half on 3/16. I'm not doing it. I can't run. Well, I could, but not 13.1. And I'm not walking it- I did that with a 5k and that was torture, at only about 1/4 the distance. I last did about 7.5 miles around my dad's neighborhood, about two weeks ago. It wasn't a bad run, actually. Then it snowed and I threw out my back, shoveling. Then I said to myself, you big baby, your back is fine, suck it up. So I threw it out more. This weekend I went out to lunch and a bookstore and grocery shopping with Curtis and I was near tears the whole time from the pain.
Which came first, the pain or the weight? Well, my back started bothering me back when I was my version of thin. But I think the 70lb I've gained back can't be helping things at all. I've lost my fire and my drive. I feel like a colossal failure. I tell myself about it at weigh-ins or when I can't fit into a pair of pants or see a photo of myself and my sausage arms and big ugly belly. I lost. I am not the victor. I"m going to end up a fat, old cat lady, who hoardes.. something yet to be seen. You need a shrink, I say to myself. And then, even though this would be the 4th time, or maybe because of it, I get scared and put it off.
I'm practicing eating a lot less. I'm convinced, even though I don't think I eat that much, that I must be eating for 10 people. A lady at work decided I seem sad, so she said we should go to the gyro food truck outside. She told me food makes me happy. I almost started crying in front of her. I did cry, once she left. I'm fat, so I must want food, right? Thanks. A lot. Irony: I was reading a book called "Why We Get Fat."
I bought appetite suppressants. I've taken them twice. I'm not good at taking things regularly so it's probably just a waste of money, not that it would have worked anyway. So much self-loathing. So much sadness. I cry at least once a day lately. I'm not sure if it's because I'm going through withdrawal from my anti-depressants or maybe they're finally all out of my system, or because something's changed. I mean, something HAS changed. I cry at least once a day. I don't know what to do.
I'm eating less, and I'm going to go to the gym today. And then what?
I was supposed to do the Va Beach half on 3/16. I'm not doing it. I can't run. Well, I could, but not 13.1. And I'm not walking it- I did that with a 5k and that was torture, at only about 1/4 the distance. I last did about 7.5 miles around my dad's neighborhood, about two weeks ago. It wasn't a bad run, actually. Then it snowed and I threw out my back, shoveling. Then I said to myself, you big baby, your back is fine, suck it up. So I threw it out more. This weekend I went out to lunch and a bookstore and grocery shopping with Curtis and I was near tears the whole time from the pain.
Which came first, the pain or the weight? Well, my back started bothering me back when I was my version of thin. But I think the 70lb I've gained back can't be helping things at all. I've lost my fire and my drive. I feel like a colossal failure. I tell myself about it at weigh-ins or when I can't fit into a pair of pants or see a photo of myself and my sausage arms and big ugly belly. I lost. I am not the victor. I"m going to end up a fat, old cat lady, who hoardes.. something yet to be seen. You need a shrink, I say to myself. And then, even though this would be the 4th time, or maybe because of it, I get scared and put it off.
I'm practicing eating a lot less. I'm convinced, even though I don't think I eat that much, that I must be eating for 10 people. A lady at work decided I seem sad, so she said we should go to the gyro food truck outside. She told me food makes me happy. I almost started crying in front of her. I did cry, once she left. I'm fat, so I must want food, right? Thanks. A lot. Irony: I was reading a book called "Why We Get Fat."
I bought appetite suppressants. I've taken them twice. I'm not good at taking things regularly so it's probably just a waste of money, not that it would have worked anyway. So much self-loathing. So much sadness. I cry at least once a day lately. I'm not sure if it's because I'm going through withdrawal from my anti-depressants or maybe they're finally all out of my system, or because something's changed. I mean, something HAS changed. I cry at least once a day. I don't know what to do.
I'm eating less, and I'm going to go to the gym today. And then what?
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