I've been at 250 most of my life, but managed to get down to 220 twice . . . once in 1995, once again in 2000. But each time I gained it all back.
And then there was the time I watched my relationship with my ex crumble when I moved out of state with him. I felt lonely and stranded, and was in denial over being on the receiving end of some emotional abuse. And then I got the news that my dad died!

Sigh . . . somewhere around that time I realized I weighed 360.

So that meant I'd gained over 100 pounds on top of already being 100 pounds overweight.
It was hard to face the fact that I was over 200 pounds overweight, that I'd let myself not only get over 300 pounds, but that I was well on my way to 400! I had trouble walking into the next room without being out of breath. I could barely tie my own shoes. I couldn't even wear jeans anymore because I couldn't find any stores that carried my size. I knew that I couldn't live in denial anymore and that things had to change. I bit the bullet and started buying veggies to make salads, I cut down on fast food, and fought often with my ex when I refused to cave into his well-established bad habits (misery loves company and it was harder for him to binge if I didn't join in with him).
I've been slowly working my way down since, maybe 20-40 pounds at a time before leveling off for a while and starting back up again. Somewhere along the way I ditched the ex, probably one of the best things I've ever done.

I'd reached 285 by the time I moved to Vegas and pretty much started my life over with someone I'd met online. We eventually got married and my husband has been pretty supportive of my food and lifestyle choices, good or bad. I finally, finally managed to get into the 240's last summer, hitting a low of 243. Pretty major for me since it was only my third time since being an adult that I got
anywhere under 250.
Then last fall, things went all to H3LL.
First of all, my car broke down, leaving me pretty much stranded. And as we were working on saving up to replace the engine, we got the call that my cousin was dying of cancer. We dropped everything and rented a car to make the drive to Illinois. While there, I also attempted to resolve some personal issues with my brother that had been building up for the past 8 years (I'm not even going to start on that but it's been insanely stressful). Oh, and we adopted a puppy while we were out there! And once I got back home, I wasn't even getting to live at home, I was a live-in babysitter for my husband's old boss while he went on a business trip to the other side of the country. So I was watching his kids while trying to housebreak the new puppy in a strange place. Housebreaking was especially difficult and I literally had to spend most of my time in the kitchen with her. Oh yeah, and then I found out why I was feeling so nauseous and drained all the time, I was pregnant (my first time)! And throughout all this I pretty much stopped caring about watching what I was eating.
My big Christmas present was getting my car fixed. I was finally able to start going back to my TOPS meetings, which I'd put on hold when I no longer had a way to get there. And I found out I'd gained over 20 pounds since the summer! I wasn't very far along with my pregnancy so I couldn't blame the gain entirely on that. I knew I was eating horribly, but I couldn't make myself care.
We hadn't been spending much time at home, and I felt bad we hadn't been spending much time with out cat. I felt he was acting rather lethargic, and on Christmas night my husband noticed blood in his litterbox.

We took him into the vet the next morning, and later got the call that we had to put him to sleep. I felt absolutely miserable, he was only 6 years old and his kidneys had gone bad. I was hoping things would perk up a little when we drove to California in the middle of January to stay at my grandma and aunt's house, but the night before we were supposed to go back home I started bleeding. My husband rushed me to the ER, and I lost the baby while we were still in the waiting room.
I sort of coasted through the rest of January and all through February on autopilot. I'm not sure what pushed me over the edge, but on on Monday, March 5th, I decided it was time to do something about my weight. At this point I was all the way back up to 267.75, nearly 25 pounds up from the summer and only less than 18 pounds away from when I'd first moved to Vegas. I knew I couldn't just throw all that away, and I also knew I needed a healthier body if I ever wanted to try for another baby. So I bought a day planner and started writing all of my meals down in it. I've been on track ever since and have actually gotten down to the 230's; give me about 14 more pounds and I'll be at my lowest weight ever.
I know everyone finds their own way that works, but in my case it's that day planner. Keeping all of my food in writing helps me stay aware that I'm always making choices, and pushes me to make the right ones more often than not. I also track my weight with a chart to help me see the big picture. If I go up one week, it isn't absolutely devastating because I can look and see how my overall trend is doing. I plan for treats, I make sure I eat a lot of whole foods, I avoid added sugar and other refined carbs as much as possible. And it's going much better now than it ever has.
I realize bad things will always be happening, that there will always be stress, that there will always be temptations and excuses to binge. But I'm done with excuses, and I'm so over whining about how unfair it is that I have to watch what I eat (which personally, was probably my own biggest hurdle to overcome). I want that healthier body and I'm the only one that can make it happen, so I'm taking full responsibility for my actions.
Don't know if this post will help you at all, but I sure hope so! Good luck to you, you can do this!

Set yourself up for success by cleaning out your fridge and pantry, take baby steps, set mini-goals, focus on all the positives that will come from eating the right things. And most importantly, realize that you're worth the effort of loving yourself. Once you get the ball rolling, it can be pretty hard to stop.
