Where do I start?
I moved across the country (from Boston to LA) with my boyfriend last year and it was beautiful. Although it was difficult starting in a new place, so far from family, we absolutely loved it out there. I was able to get into a routine of walking and hiking outdoors, taking great care of myself, eating healthy and learning to be really happy. I don't think I stepped on the scale too often, but I knew I was losing weight. I felt free and adventurous.
I had planned to visit home in April—for the first time since I moved. I flew in on a Thursday and was going to spend the weekend working a big event in downtown Boston for one of my clients. Then, I would spend the rest of the week at my parent's house. I couldn't wait to check out my brother's new apartment. I was so proud of him and he couldn't wait to see me because I had helped talk him through some tough times after I moved away.
On the last night of the event in Boston, before I got to see my family, my brother got into a horrific accident. He was driving by himself, lost control of his truck and was ejected out a window. He crushed his head on a pole and then was pinned between his vehicle and a cement barrier. By all accounts he should have died.
My life has completely changed since that moment. I spent months in hospitals, every day, all day, trying to help support my parents and stand vigil by my brother's bedside, holding his hand, crying, begging the universe for mercy, willing him to wake up. I cancelled my flight back to my new home in LA and my boyfriend. Obviously I couldn't leave Boston.
Fast forward six months down the road - my boyfriend and I found an apartment back in Boston, packed all of our stuff, moved 3,000 miles from our beautiful LA and are back home. Of course we have a lot less money (it's expensive to move cross-country, especially twice in one year...) but we are doing okay. My brother still can't talk or move by himself, needs constant care, suffers endlessly, and is basically in the most heartbreaking situation a 24 year old, free-spirited, independent kid could possibly be in. I can't begin to express how difficult it's been for my family. The things I've seen in the last six months have permanently altered my soul.
Now, this all relates to weight loss because I feel completely out of control. I have gained so much weight and it feels unstoppable. Every single day I try to get back on track, but keep failing. I know that it's technically not important in comparison to the other things going on in my life, but it's been six months and it feels like it's time to start getting my sh*t together. I used to be at the hospital every day, and now I visit three or four times a week. Part of the rest of my life will be devoted to caring for my brother and I'm trying my hardest to scrounge up a worthy existence around it. It just doesn't compare to the life I had before. I feel like I lost myself in this whole mess and sacrificed my happiness out of necessity and it's really affecting my eating habits. The best solution would be to see a therapist to help me sort my thoughts, but as of right now it's out of the question due to insurance issues.
Has anyone else dealt with life-altering tragedy and how did it affect your eating? The only thing I don't want to do is just give up and let myself be a complete mess.
And thanks for reading such a sad, lengthy post!