Still So Far Away

I lost another pound, bringing the total loss to 39 lbs.  I should be ecstatic.  Only 3 more ounces, and I'll be 40 lbs down.  This should be awesome news. And a small part of me feels celebratory.

However, this small success is just a drop of water in an entirely empty well.  In the vacuum of hopelessness and loneliness, this small feat, is nearly completely useless.

I hate the feeling of being alone.  I face several challenges, outside of being a fat cow, emotionally, physically, and financially.  I hate feeling like I am the only one who is fighting the fight.  I hate feeling like other people, who should be involved, are shirking it, pretending that the battle is not theirs, or does not exist.  I hate to feel the insurmountable pressure to fix everything my own.  I hate feeling like the people who should be fighting alongside me, are instead fighting against me.  I am tired of battling it out by myself.  I am tired of fighting every day to make things better.  I am tired of making do with the limited resources I have, without any hope of it ever getting better.

I want cookies.  I want ice cream.  I want pie.  I want candy.  But no, I actually don't.  I don't really want those things.  What I want is happiness.  What I want is to feel like there might actually be a chance that things might get better.  I want to find joy in life again.  I want the struggle to get a little bit easier, or at least my strength to match it.  I want to feel like I can succeed in my challenges and trials.  I want to not feel alone.  And as much as I wish it were true, cookies, ice cream, pie, and candy are not going to make those things better.

And so I soldier on. Weighed down by my burdens, stuck in my struggles, and unwilling to give up; even though I fight on alone.

Rock Bottom

The last few weeks have been extremely fatiguing, with today being the worst of them all.  One child is gone, visiting her grandma, and I miss her. My youngest two have been fussy and clingy all day, I feel saddled with just a whole lot on my plate right now, and I feel powerless to change or fix anything. And I feel alone. After my physically and emotionally draining day, I told my husband that I needed to go to the store for milk and things. I really wanted ice cream. I wanted it bad. So bad that I told myself after the shopping was done I could go get some. I even knew what I wanted (Rolo flurry). I wanted it to make the pain go away. I wanted it to replace the hurt and exhaustion. I wanted it to change my life. But as I sat at the intersection (after shopping), waiting for my turn to turn towards the Golden Arches of Mind-Numbing Goodness, I remembered something my mother read to me several days, if not weeks, ago. "Why am I hiding from the pain? What will happen if I don't self-medicate with junk food?"  So I turned towards home instead. 

I sat in my car, in the driveway. And I let myself hurt. It hurts to be alone. It hurts like a big, gaping hole in my chest. It aches with clawing hands around my heart. Feeling alone is painful. It's like being stuck in a void, in a black abyss. It hurts to feel helpless. It hurts like having your hands cut off. Being completely at the mercy of someone else's decision (or indecision) feels insurmountable. It feels like sitting at the bottom of a mountain, know that you have to climb it, but not having any legs. It feels hopeless, and feeling hopeless hurts too. It makes getting out of bed each day a chore.  Some days I feel like, "What/s the point of getting up? I can't do a thing to change the struggles and burden we are under right now." And that hurts.  I cry. I cry because crying is a release of tension. I cry because I can do nothing else.

So why do I bury these feelings? What will happen if I don't bury them? Why do I want to choose unhealthy junk to cover it up? I choose it because I don't want to feel that pain. Whether I eat the ice cream (etc) or not, I'm going to cry. But the reasons for the tears are different. When I cry after ice cream, it is because I have failed. I cry because I was weak. I cry because I am fat. I cry because I still hurt. So either way I hurt. But I choose ice cream tears because the reasons I cry then, are things I can control. I choose it, to give myself something, ANYTHING, to control. And I repeatedly choose it, because choosing "wrong" is easier than choosing "right." I can fix being fat. I can fix being weak. I can fix being wrong. And when I choose ice cream,  I am controlling something. I get to have that power. I get to exercise that control. And I choose it, because I can.

But, that's not how I want to live my life. Now I need to figure out how to change that trained response to pain. That plan of "I feel bad, I eat junk," that choice has become automatic. It is now a habit. And I have to break that habit, before it breaks me.

Just Truckin'

I've continued exercising this last week. Went walking with my sister, who is visiting. And last night, while my sister babysat, my husband and I walked about 2 miles with the baby in a stroller. I still don't like it, and I don't look forward to it, but at least it is getting done.

Another Day

Man! I haven't exercised in quite a while, and today I sure made up for it. First, I took the four kids, and my 15 year old sister to the Clovis Hillcrest Zoo. It is the second largest zoo in New Mexico, right after the Albuquerque Zoo. I bought a season pass for my family, and we make a visit about every other week or so.
http://hillcrestparkzoo.com/default.aspx 

So this morning we went to visit all the animals. At a slow walk, pushing a stroller, and leading three young children, it takes about an hour and a half to see everything. We walked the entire zoo. After that, I went to pick up my new glasses (hey, did you know street signs actually have words on them?) On our way home, we stopped by the City Park for a picnic. After eating, we climbed on the playground and swung on the swings, or as my 2 year calls them, "fwings!"

I was determined that tonight I would hit the park again, this time alone, and do my lap. Considering last time I was able to run about a song and a half at a steady pace (5 or 6 six minutes), I figured I could at least manage that again, then walk the rest. After a brisk walk to warm-up, and a good stretch, I started jogging. While I did find that I was able to run faster than I had before, I also was unable to run as long. This was very discouraging. I barely managed a minute and a half, before my knee was screaming, and I was breathing too hard.So, I scaled back. When I walk, my knees are fine. So I finished my 5K lap at a brisk walk. I figure, walking fast is better than walking slow right? I swung my arms, and walked as quickly as I could. I worked up a sweat and listened to my tunes.

The people at the park tonight were an interesting lot. I have never seen the "track" so packed. I call it a 'track" because it is basically a dirt and gravel path, nothing more. There were probably 50 people out tonight, more than I have ever seen. So yay for my town getting out and walking/running/jogging. I did have the pleasure of meeting a lovely grandma-age lady, out power walking with her beautiful red-long-haired dog Tansy.

And so, at least I finished it. And even though I hate it, I do not like running and I do not like sweating, at least it is free, right?