Sometimes I struggle harder than other days. Sometimes I tell myself I'm doing awesome, when, really, that's a lie. Sometimes I am too hard on myself. Sometimes I'm easy as hell. But I keep trying, I keep going, and I'd like to think that in the end that is what matters most.
My boss told me I was going to get super fat when I quit smoking cigarettes. Then the other day he commented that I hadn't even gained any weight yet. I was proud to tell him I lost--even if it is only a very few pounds--but it was one of those times I wanted to say, "Haha! Proved you wrong!"
One time I asked a therapist if I was bipolar. She said if I was that aware of my feelings, probably not. Do you think sometimes labeling things is actually counterproductive? Like, if you say you're not good at math, then you just keep believing it, and, maybe, you stop trying to improve, because you've said you aren't good at it. Or, maybe, you have to prove, in a sense, that you aren't good at it. So you don't really try at math anymore. Or you avoid it as much as you can. I don't want to do that with weight loss and getting healthy and fit. I don't want to keep saying it is so hard and that it's never going to happen to me, because I fear it'll turn into a self-fulfilling prophecy. I fear it already has.
For me, it's a lot bigger than the food itself. It is way more than just eating less and working out more. It runs deeper, courses through my veins, my very being, consumes me. It is my addiction. It is my prison. It is my life, though, and I really have to just
Sometimes, well, a lot of the time, I tell myself to fake it 'til I make it. This might be one of those times.
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