This morning my alarm went off at 6:15 am. After a few moments of arguing with myself, I got up, put on my running clothes, and went for a 3.5 mile run. I did it because I was certain I would feel better about myself, about the day, about life, if I did.
It didn't work.
I have struggled all day to accomplish anything more. It's just a "I don't wanna do anything I'm supposed to do" kind of day.
For that matter...I'm having more of a "I don't wanna" kind of month.
People ask me how I'm doing so well with weight loss and I feel like a liar when I tell them I try to eat right and run and do P90X. That may have been true a month ago...
I'm so burned out on P90X. I have two weeks left before I'm an official P90X grad. I've been repeating weeks that I flubbed up on. Last week was one of those. I missed over half of the workouts and I only ran once. I've been drinking tons of pop. Eating all sorts of chocolate and sugar and junk. Skipping out on veggies. And just feeling like an all around mess.
I know what I need to do to get back on track: have a little self control.
I know I can do it: I've done it before.
I know. But I don't wanna.
I keep telling myself, "It's okay. Take a break. Relax. Just hit it hard after Memorial Day weekend."
But that feels like cheating. It feels like I haven't truly learned a thing since starting this weight loss journey. 82 pounds lost and I haven't gained a darn bit of sense about being healthy.
I know that's not true. I'm just kind of down on myself lately. I am my own worst enemy. I keep beating myself up for not losing any more weight since my birthday. I've maintained right at 199.6 since April 18th. I keep thinking how dumb I am for not losing more, for eating so unhealthily lately, for struggling as much as I have been.
Memorial Day weekend is going to spent with lots of family since both my sisters are blessing their new babies that Sunday. I want to look smashing since I have worked so hard this year to lose weight. Plus, both my sisters and sister in law, even freshly postpartum will look severely smashing. And I don't even have their excuse as to why I still have a belly.
I was complaining to my husband and sister about not losing more weight lately and that I can only say, "I have lost 82 pounds" not "I have lost 90 pounds". They quickly put me in my place. "Yeah, because 82 pounds is just pathetic!" as they roll their eyes.
Why am I so quick to brush away my own success?
Why can't I seem to get a grip on true healthy eating?
Why am I not more comfortable in my own skin by now?
Why do I have to fight this battle my whole life?
Why hasn't it gotten any easier?