Bear with me as I ramble....
I've hit a wall. Not a scale wall (although mother nature's lead foot is resting on that this week), but a mental one. Maybe it's not a wall at all, maybe it's a little more clarity than I'm used to.
The first inklings of this journey started this July. I was out on the east coast with friends for a friend's wedding. We drove. Every inch of me was swollen the entire time. My feet hurt. I couldn't keep up. It was a good thing I brought along two dresses for the ceremony, because the first one didn't fit. All we did was eat while we were there and my stretchy pants were even tighter by the time we headed home. I was embarrassed that I couldn't keep up. I'm sure my one guy friend stayed back from the obstacle course out of pity for me, not because it "wasn't his thing" After all, what single 27 year old guy wants to cruise around Moncton with a 450lb fat friend? On the way home, at a rest stop somewhere in New York State, I bought a 2X woman's hoodie as my souvenir. I was going to change when I got home. And I was going to wear that hoodie for Christmas.
I changed when I got home. And I started to lose. But I didn't fit into that hoodie at Christmas. I didn't automatically look fantastic either. I was supposed to go to Mexico in February. I'm glad that got called off, because I'm nowhere near ready. I have a wedding in June, one in July and one in October. The June one is pretty much my 10 year high school reunion, not to mention one I was rejected as a bridesmaid for because "finding you a dress would be a nightmare". The July one is a family one. I'm afraid to pick dresses or plan or even go, because up until now, my goals have been entirely unrealistic, and for some reason I can't wrap my emotions around anything less than perfection, which of course I know won't happen. I'm not going to be automatically drop dead gorgeous at a lower weight. It's not going to fix my relationship or make me happier. But for some reason, I'm clinging to vain and impractical reasons for weight loss, instead of some very valid ones, like my health (or the basic ability to make it up the two flights of stairs to my condo). I'm smarter than this. I know my self esteem can't be completely tied up in my weight. But yet, I"m still here.
I'm also standing on a precipice with my habits. I started out gung ho, following my plan to the "t", but I'm slipping, and I know it. Little cheats like a spoonful of bf's mashed potatoes. Or an extra babybel (or two) when I'm in the kitchen. I snack all night and I shouldn't be. I didn't need that whole glass of gingerale to settle my stomach. I clearly haven't "fixed" my problem with food.
For some reason, I feel like I'm this close to falling off the wagon, and I'm so discouraged about my lofty goals that now I feel like I have none. Has any one else hit this funk? How do you break out of it without derailing?