My mind is racing and I just need to dump it semi-privately (none of my immediate friends and family have access to this blog).
I have moved away from New York City. It was 2 years of food and fatness. I am up from my low of 289 to 346.6 and still not entirely all the way back up to 368. Thankfully.
My brain is broken, guys. All the things that made me charming and successful before are broken. My positivity. My hope. My consistency. My willpower.
I'm back in a slower city... where I have got nothing but time to figure this shit out. I am working, but only a few hours a day. I am looking for additional work but I'm not going to rush it, or take something not worth my time (aka: below $15 an hour).
I am still with my mister. Which has added an entirely different dimension to my self-perception, awareness and stability.
Things fluctuate in that relationship. We have definitely had our ups and downs. I figure that's normal. But it always seems so extreme... and my relationship with food is part of the problem. Mister is aware I eat my feelings. I have asked him to help. But the approach hasn't been working. It's done the opposite which in turn takes effect on the relationship. Things are hard today.
I don't know that I'm fully aware of my feelings enough to type them into permanence in regards to the relationship aspect of all this. So... let's compartmentalize for now.
Relationship with Food.
Food still guides a lot of my thought and behavior patterns. I am still not making the best choices. I have created an entirely new, complex system of justification and avoidance of accountability.
Relationship with Body.
My poor body. I am barely aware that beneath my shoulders exists. I can see it in my coordination. I can see it in my depth perception. I can feel it in the way I breathe... of course, only when I'm paying attention. I am in a waivering state of denial about the consequences of my weight re-gain.
I know that I've put weight back on because the clothes don't fit. Because old aches and pains are back and worse. I know that my knees are getting more worn out and it's harder to do things that I want to. I hate saying that there are things that I can't do anymore, but running, is out of the question. So is some of the high intensity interval training. I feel like last time I went that extreme, yes, I saw results, but I damaged and aged my body along the way.
Then on top of that... New York City. The city of hard pavement and subway stairs has also been rough on my ankles, knees and hips as I experienced the city with mouth wide open. Tasting everything new and delicious. Breaking so many of the rules I had previously given myself because "I'm in New York. I need to at least try it." Then opening the pathway back to sugar and carb addiction. Opening back up to binge eating. Day long grazing. Trying to cope with stress by chewing.
What the F*ck Are You Going To DO About It?
Well... I guess I'm back here, in blogland. Less so for comments and attention. More so for being able to externalize and witness the bullshit I'm feeding myself mentally and hopefully breaking some of the thought patterns that I recognize.
As an external processor in a new city, with only my significant other as my social network, I need a place to put the thoughts together.
|Tears, Snot and Sunburn.|
I need to pony up to the food I eat daily.
I need to acknowledge my activity level and change it.
I need to weigh in weekly.
I need to hydrate more consistently.
I need to get out of this fat fat fat fat fat depressing sad fat fat fat head space.
Big Fat Love,