Lately I’ve been in a slump. I could blame it on personal issues that have happened in the my life, or the fact that I’m working so much, but those are just excuses and shouldn’t really lead to such a “downward spiral” (for lack of a better phrase). I had been going so good in this weight loss journey: tracking, losing weight, eating healthier, sticking to my portions. But these last few weeks I’ve been in this broken record where I’m eating great one day, and the next not so great. Or eating perfect during the day until I get to dinner. I don’t like it, at all. It’s been leading to me indulging in more than I should-more than I want- and this past week’s weigh-in is an indicator of that.
I’m trying so hard to get out of that, but I feel myself slowly slipping back into my old ways. Sleeping in and rushing out the door without breakfast, high calorie snacking, hardly eating anything at lunch and then coming home to high calorie dinners. I don’t like it. Not only do I feel it in my body, but I just feel it in my being. I had this really great thing going where I would wake up in the mornings and have breakfast with green tea. It woke me up, and I felt a little bit better walking out the door to work. And then I would come home and eat a good dinner and end the day with a relaxing cup of tea. I’m not doing any of that now. I haven’t eaten breakfast in probably a week. I don’t even drink the tea because my calories have been up.
It’s a fine line that I’m hovering at. In one hand, I have to see the good that I am doing. The things that I’m doing now that I wouldn’t be doing when times would be like this. I’m still tracking, even if it’s going to tell me I ate 400 more calories than I should have. I still make better choices. But as I said in a post below, just because the bag of chips is half the calories of a normal one, it still doesn’t make eating the whole bag ok. But where do I cross the line of congratulating myself for those better steps, to discouraging the lack of improvement?
I don’t want to let myself down again. I don’t want to slowly give up like I have in the past. It scares me. I don’t want to be obese anymore. I don’t want to be depressed because of my weight. I don’t want to look in the mirror every morning and be disgusted with the body I see. I don’t want to think about the fact that I might die because of my weight. You would think that would be enough to get me into gear. To make me take control of my life. But it’s hard. It’s really, really hard. It’s really hard to see how far you have got, to see other people just have it so much easier. To will myself that I can do it and not look at the countless times in the past I haven’t done it and not think that it’s a hopeless cause. That I’ve already wasted away my years and there is no purpose at all.
Weight loss is so fucking hard. It really is.