Am I running out of time?
I jumped on the scales this morning and it is not where I want it to be. I wanted it to be more. I’m counting calories. I’m trying to exercise.
I wonder if it’s too late for me. I wonder if all of the years of not eating right and abusing my body with food have just caught up to me.
Why can I not get my act together – I know I’m working hard at losing weight but it’s not coming off fast enough.
And let’s say even if I do get to be height weight appropriate how do I know that the damage I have done is reversible?
The reality is I don’t. I’m terrified of a heart attack, stroke, cancer or any one of those really awful traumatic things. I’ve already gone through trumatic thing and you would’ve thought two years ago when I had the opportunity to get my shit together I would’ve done it. But I didn’t.
I took almost 2 years of trying to heal as an excuse not to be serious about this weight loss. And so now my diabetes which is slowly getting under control is really kicking my ass. My anxiety is kicking my ass. I’m terrified of exercise and I need to do it. I am so frozen in fear that the idea of getting my heart rate up just paralyzes me. I panic all the time. I don’t know what to do. Sometimes it would be easier just not to eat.
I don’t even care if I’m pretty anymore. I just want to be strong. I want to be healthy. I want to watch my kid graduate from high school, college, grad school, – I want to watch him get married or partnered and I want to be a grandmother. I don’t want to be remembered as that fat woman who loved her family but just couldn’t get it together.
This feeling of isolation and loneliness is just overwhelming.
I have this fantasy of waking up tomorrow being height and weight appropriate, having body parts that work like they’re supposed to, and being strong. But that’s just a fantasy.
No one could’ve prepared me for the fact that getting older, staying healthy, and working to lose weight would be so fucking hard.
I feel like a huge disappointment to my family – just huge.