The self-loathing that comes from eating whatever I want whenever I want is mounting to its breaking point.

I can feel it.

I’m eating things that I don’t really want to be eating because they are there…

… Because I feel stressed…

… Because I feel helpless…

… Because I’m so unhappy…

… Because I have so much anxiety…

… Because it’s going to snow again…

… Because there is no reason.

I told my husband yesterday that when the self-loathing gets to its critical mass I’m prompted to act. I feel ready to dig myself out of the hole that I’ve fallen into. It’s just that getting to that critical mass feels terrible.

I might be almost there. Almost… I don’t know exactly, but it’s close… very close.

It took me 7 months to lose 35 pounds two years ago. Then it took another year to stabilize at a net loss of 25 pounds.

I won’t be surprised if when I step on that scale again next I’ve gained at least 1/2 – 3/4 of that weight back.

I’ll have to start over.

It’s so disappointing. So frustrating to know that I did this to myself.

Again.

I hate looking at my face. It’s got that heavy look to it again, weighing down my cheeks. My double chin is back.

I’m not getting on the scale anytime soon. We’re going to visit my parents in a week and I’ll wait until we get back to get on the scale. I’m going to need summery clothes there. I doubt any of the ones I have will fit and I don’t have the money to get ones that do. I don’t think I have the heart to get ones that do either.

It’s demoralizing.

But at the same time, it’s familiar.

I’ve lost this weight more times than I can count. Now, I’m just going to have to do it again.

There is joy and satisfaction in the journey back down the scale. There is frustration and pain there too but in the end I think I’m better for it.

Just waiting to get over this last hump.

I’m ready for recovery again.

 

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