So. It's been about a month. And what a month. Since the last picture, I went entirely off the rails. This culminated in a tear-filled run last night as I finally admitted to myself that maybe I have a problem that is bigger than I am able to deal with. It is hard for me to admit that. In spite of myself and all I seem to be doing to sabotage myself my weigh-in this morning, which I hope to be something of a fresh start, is as follows:
Which, considering everything that has happened is not too bad. I'm back in the 11s, which is good and makes my mind feel better. Last week my weight was:
I know that my weight has fluctuated within 7 lbs of that weight from various times I have weighed myself out of curiousity over the past month. I mean 7 lbs up of course, if it was 7 lbs less I would probably not be in this mess! To record them, I have started taking my usual progress photos. Here are this week's offerings:
My fears about losing control with the lack of structure of the summer holidays were completely correct. I managed to stick to eating relatively reasonably and doing a few workouts for the first three-ish weeks. The last three weeks and the time since then? All to shit. All of it. Everything I worked so hard for gone. I ate not just everything, but I ate everything unhealthy all of the time and then I binged on top of that. I didn't go to the gym and I didn't even go out for walks most of the time. I think that my only saving grace probably was the few walks that I did go on, honestly. I think that is the only thing that kept my metabolism going and stopped me, at the same time, from losing my mind completely.
I think I might have finally reached rock bottom this weekend and I am hoping that by starting off with a 1 lbs loss and a good breakfast (two pieces of seeded toast, a kiwi fruit and water) that I can kick this week into being the week that saves me. If not, I've come to the sickening conclusion that I am going to have to seek outside help and I can't do that. A. because that means admitting out loud to someone else that I have a problem and that means it is true so much more than it does just admitting it to myself. B. I'm not sure that I really do have as much of a problem as it feels to me, and the idea of confessing it to someone and having them listen politely only to tell me there is nothing wrong with me might just push me off the deep end. C. I'm not sure I could physically deal with this outside of myself. I am a secretive person, I do not share information easily and the idea of having to explain myself to someone makes me feel ill. I need to try and deal with this myself.
Yes, I'm putting off explaining what pushed me to this point. Yes, because it is difficult for me to write about. I'm also not sure how far back in time to go. Yes, because once I type it and press publish it is there for me to see over and over and it means that I really have admitted to a problem. I find that writing about it makes me feel better though. It helps me to sort through my twisted thoughts and make sense of them.
I have to go to a birthday party now. I'm going to leave this with pleasure at losing 1 lbs and being only 1 lbs higher than the last time I posted. Let's end this on a good note.
