I should feel some pride in my accomplishment. And I am proud. But I’m also disappointed that I let it get this far, that I got this heavy. So I know I promised myself a clean slate, no worries about coulda shoulda woulda beens, but starting from here and working my way down. So I’m thankful for a 7 pound loss, just scared that unless I keep up the work this loss, like all the others over the last decade will be meaningless. How do I abate the fear that I will fail again? Am I more committed now than I was then? Did I flip a magic switch? Nope.
Today I stayed on program. Today I stayed clean. I’m a recovering addict with 8 days sober. And I don’t say that mockingly or lightly. I have triggers. I have a habit that can’t be kicked cold turkey (pun possibly intended). I know some think fat people are just lazy and lack self-control. I won’t argue that that isn’t true of me, but I will say that I didn’t get fat because I am lazy or lack self-control. I am actually quite self-possessed, in a way a lot of addicts learn to be. Just like some one who might use drugs or alcohol or gambling or sex, I use food to deal with shit; to feel numb or full or ecstatic. And I’ve learned to mask it. So yes, now I am lazy, at nearly 300lbs it’s hard to feel motivated to get off my ass. And yes, the downward spiral of addiction hits terminal velocity, masking it is just no longer possible. This is my life and I’m seriously fighting for it.
I can’t abate the fear.
I can only face it.
One day at a time.
So whether I lost 7 pounds or 0 this week is less important than the fact that I took control, made sensible choices, accepted responsibility for my actions, and didn’t fall off the wagon (and into a bowl of ice cream or box of cheese-its or a funfetti chocolate cake).
Thanks for reading.