Survival Mode

This morning I woke up feeling defeated. I already knew before getting on the scale and then getting on the scale and it confirming, just devastated me. 

197 pounds.

Again.

It's like I can't escape it. Down. Up. Down. Up. 

I feel like I am just stuck. That no matter how much I want this, I can't seem to break free.

And of course, this isn't the only thing that I am feeling stressed about. 

We're waiting for my husband's final paycheck from his old job. Instead of direct depositing it like they normally would, they want him to pick it up in person. The whole situation feels stressful and uncertain. Bills are due. Payments are scheduled to come out. NSF fees are looming over us. I am so frustrated with these companies. They become so vindictive when all you are trying to do is survive.

So I woke up this morning, after a night filled with bad dreams, the scale is high again, money is non-existent again. My body is feeling panicky, I can't even deep breathe. I have been feeling this way for days. I have reached numerous times for food I am not even hungry for. Trying to unfreeze myself. 

I just want certainty in my life.

I want to know the bills will be paid.
I want to know everything will work out.
I want to know that the people I love are safe.
I want to know that all the effort I'm putting into losing weight isn't wasted.

But of course, life doesn't offer that type of security in moments like this.

So today, I guess, my goal isn't to have a perfect day where everything is checked off.

My goal is just to stay the course. Find some things I can tolerate that will help me stay on track.

I don't feel motivated.
I don't feel hopeful.
The scale won't magically hit my goal number tomorrow.

But I deserve to keep going, even on this day when everything feels uncertain, scary and sad.

So today is a survival day.

And I guess these survival days count too.

Probably more so. 

I Chose Alcohol

 

Previously, I wrote about starting this journey again. About wanting to lose weight, feel better, and finally stop standing in my own way.

Then the next day, life showed up.

We had a meeting about our youngest child's new school placement. It was so much. I had so many questions, and I felt unheard. The constant "oh, we understand" really gets to me. I don't think you really do understand. My youngest is non-verbal, needs to have someone feed him, change him, guide him and yet you are telling me no, he can't have a one-on-one EA, no, I can't ride the bus with him for the first days to help ease him into something new. I am supposed to trust a bunch of strangers who have many other children to watch over and yet the school system can't even trust me? Even when the meetings go well, they leave me emotionally exhausted. Every conversation about his future carries the weight of decisions, uncertainty, advocacy, and the constant reminder that his path is different than most children's.

At the same time, I'm trying to process something unexpected with my oldest son. There is so much fear, confusion, worry, and just the realization that my child is becoming an adult who will make decisions I may not always understand or even agree with. 

By the end of the day, I felt overwhelmed.

And I drank. I chose to drink. I made the conscious decision to numb out. Before I made this decision, I went for a long walk through Musko, I vented on the phone to my mother and my sister. But I still chose alcohol.

The question isn't why I drank. The bigger question is why alcohol is still one of the first things I reach for when life feels heavy. Why? Perhaps it is because I grew up and that is what most adults did when life got hard, but not my mother. She NEVER chose that path. So why do I? Why am I setting this example for my kids? for myself?

Weight loss isn't just about calories. It's about habits. It's about coping. It's about what I do when I'm scared, sad, angry, worried, or exhausted.

Some of my hardest battles aren't with food. They're with the ways I've learned to comfort myself.

What happens after a night of drinking? I overeat the next day, there is no movement, there is nothing but stillness, eating fast food and shame. 

Why I'm Starting Again

 

I'm 43 years old. I'm a wife, mama of four, artist, instructor, witch, genealogist, contractor assistant and someone who is so very tired. My youngest has severe disabilities, whom I am constantly advocating for and my life is just a little intense for the most part. 

7 years ago, I lost a large amount of weight. I felt powerful, confident, and excited about life. Since then, I gained it back. I went from losing 70ish pounds to regaining it and more.

I've started over more times than I can count.

I've tried Ozempic, got off it, tried it again and left it for good. Regained again the pounds I had lost on it (30!)

This blog isn't about pretending I'm motivated every day. It's about showing what actually happens when a real person tries to lose weight while juggling family, stress, finances, marriage struggles, work, exhaustion, and everyday life.

Today I weigh 195.4 pounds. I restarted this journey at 200 pounds this year. The most I have weighed is 204 pounds, which was last year. 

My goal is 130 pounds.

But more than that, I want my energy back. I want to feel strong again. I want to trust myself again.

There will be good days. There will be bad days. There will probably be days when I eat chips and wonder why I'm doing this at all.

This blog is where I'll tell the truth about all of it.

Not the polished version.

The real version.

So welcome