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.