Hey everyone -
So on this wonderful Valentine's Day, I'm enjoying a day off work, alone in my house (well, there is my cat) and I decided to be productive and clean out my storage bins and do some spring cleaning type stuff, throw some things away.
I've felt so good lately losing what I have. So today I bagged up all my "fat" clothes and put them in my car to drop off at a donation center. I was feeling so great! Even being single on such a romantically driven day.
Then, of course... I stumble upon my journals, I don't write much in them anymore but I make updates every couple months. I was excited! I'd forgotten about them so I sat down to reminisce.
Of course, being overweight since my sophomore year in highschool and gradually getting worse every few entries, spaced months apart is about my weight. About how dedicated I am to change my life. About how THIS time is the time that really MEANS something.
In 2004, when I first started gaining weight I wrote that I was disgusted at the scale reading 180.
In 2006, when I graduated High School, I wrote that my life was in my hands, I'd fix it this time around, my gains were getting ridiculous! I wrote that, "ridiculous". My journal tells me I weight 229 on that entry date. 49 pounds heavier than two years prior. Ugh.
Flash forward to 2010. I wrote how depressed I was, how on the verge of giving up completely on life, no joke, I was honestly wondering in my loneliness what was the point of sticking around, anyway? I commented in the 2010 journal entry how I had just read the journal over and wished I could of told my 2004 and 2006 selves that it wasn't that bad! To stick to it no matter what! That you will be so much healthier physically and emotionally
if you can muster up some courage to fight the fear of failure and to start loving yourself and believing in your own worth. Ugh! I wrote that I NEVER wanted to be reading the journal again, years later, as a heavier person. I remember the 2010 weight loss attempt. I started at 285, I got down to 255 and just... after that it's totally fuzzy. I just stopped, I guess.
Alright, so here I am.. 2014. Weighed in at 296. Eleven pounds heavier than my 2010 self. I started crying. The exact thing I wrote in my journal, my biggest fear, came to pass. I read it, years later, as a heavier person. God, I had forgotten all about writing that!
After throwing a massive pity party for myself and bawling for hours... after being so happy with what I've accomplished so far.. now all I can feel is fear. I don't want to fail again.
I guess I don't even know why I'm writing all this. To vent, to someone who might understand how I'm feeling. I'm the only obese person I know, nobody else understands how trapped I feel in my own mind, my own body. The worst part is I did it to myself.
I can't look at the end game right now, it's too overwhelming. I think what's different this time is.. I just need to take it one day at a time. Make each day like my first day of this lifestyle.