I can’t believe that I am sitting here at 212 pounds. I am ashamed of myself. I’m embarrassed to leave the house because I can’t stand looking at myself, so why would anyone else want to? My weight is the same as it was when I was 42 weeks pregnant with Johnny. Unacceptable. I could most certainly put the blame on so many different things: my hormones are crazy, I drank too much alcohol, I ate too much, I couldn’t exercise because it would put me into a world of pain. Life happened. My body failed me, but mostly I failed myself. Today I’m letting it all go because its in the past. I am who I am today, at 212 pounds, because of my choices. I can’t hate myself for making those choices. Hate only breeds more hate, and how am I supposed to take care of a body and soul that I can’t stand?
Today I start my medically supervised VLCD and I’m not sure how I feel about it yet. The food sucks, there’s no getting around that. I’m hungry, but I’m feeling okay otherwise. I almost feel as though I’m high on something, although I’m not sure why. This enemy within my spirit keeps whispering in my ear, “This is just another thing to fail at. Its a fancier, more expensive version of everything else you’ve failed at before!” but I keep fighting back. I won’t fail. I have so much to fight for: my happiness, my health, my family. I need to meditate and keep in touch with God, my spirit guides and my own true self. I need to journal and reflect, succeed in school, and find other ways to keep my mind busy and my life fulfilled without food being a part of that.