Crawling Out of the Ditch

I'm slowly crawling out of the ditch that I fell into three and a half months ago. I've taken the first step... something that I've been avoiding like the plague. I actually stepped on the scale this past Wednesday and was faced with a number that I didn't really want to see. And I survived.

I knew I had gained weight. In fact, I knew I had gained A LOT of weight. But as bad as the number staring back at me was... it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I thought I would weigh in at around 385. But I weighed in at 369.8.

Yeah... that number totally sucks. It totally sucks that I've gained almost 40 pounds in the past 3.5 months. And my only consolation is knowing that if I GAINED that much weight in 3.5 months... I can LOSE that much weight in 3.5 months.

All is not lost. I still have over 30 pounds off. And for that I am extremely grateful... and more than a bit lucky.

And, yes... I could totally kick myself for gaining back so much weight... but that isn't going to help anything. Instead... I'm going to pick myself up by the bootstraps and keep trudging forward. I'm crawling out of this ditch... and I'm going to start journeying down the road of weight loss once again.

I'm back. I've been doing well since Wednesday. I'll be weighing in every Wednesday from now on. And thanks to all of you who have encouraged me throughout my recent struggle. You reached down and helped to pull me out of the ditch... and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

xo,
C.C.

Thanks, Thanks, and More Thanks!

I just want to thank everybody who has left comments for me recently.

Thanks for not giving up on me.

Thanks for believing in me.

Thanks for letting me know that I am not alone.

Your support and encouragement mean the world to me. I cannot even begin to express the emotions that welled up inside of me as I read each and every heartfelt comment left for me on my last post. Tears literally came to my eyes as I read. My heart was simply filled to overflowing with your kindness and understanding. What an awesome group of bloggers you are. What awesome PEOPLE you are!

I'm still not doing well... but knowing that you all have faith in me, knowing that many of you are in the same boat as me... gives me the courage to continue this journey. You all have been a ray of hope shining light into my seemingly hopeless situation... and for that I am sincerely grateful.

xo,
C.C.

Starting Over

I've been trying to feel inspired to post for several days. And the inspiration just isn't there. I don't even know what to write. I wanted to update several days ago. I promised that I would. And somehow... I could not find the inclination to sit down and type.

What should I type? What do I have to say? What am I feeling? Questions, questions, questions...

I wish I could tell you all that I've gotten back on track, but I haven't. I wish I could tell you that I've lost 10 pounds since my last update, but I haven't. I wish I could tell you that I felt optimistic about losing weight, but I can't. All I feel right now is blah, blah, blah.

I know I've got to get back on track. I've got to. But why do I keep eating and eating and eating and getting fatter and fatter and fatter? I was doing so well. And now this... this awful, deep, dark funk that I've fallen into and can't seem to get out of.

Am I going to be fat forever? Should I just accept it and keep my fingers crossed and hope for the best? No... I cannot accept it. I don't want to be fat forever! I want to be normal. I want to know what it's like to live life in a normal-sized body. I don't want food to control my life anymore.

Why does food control my life? I've been asking myself that question a lot these past few weeks. And I honestly don't know the answer to that question. Why do I think about food constantly? Why has eating become my favorite activity? Why can't I just eat like a normal person? Why is food the first thing on my mind in the morning when I wake up and the last thing on my mind at night when I go to bed? Even when I am doing well and losing weight... what I am going to eat is still the one thing that I'm constantly thinking about.

I am addicted to food... the same way an alcoholic is addicted to alcohol, the same way a drug addict is addicted to drugs, the same way a chain smoker is addicted to nicotine. Food is doing something for me that it was never meant to do. It is filling some other void in my life besides my body's need for sustenance. I turn to food for everything. When I'm happy, I eat. When I'm sad, I eat. When I'm lonely, I eat. When I'm bored, I eat. I just eat and eat and eat.

I don't want to be like this. I don't want to live my life constantly gaining and losing weight, constantly thinking about food.

How can I do so well for 11 months and then suddenly fall off the wagon so badly??? I not only fell off the wagon... I feel like after I fell off the wagon I rolled into a ditch... and now the ditch is filling up with water. I feel like I'm never going to get out of this ditch. But I know that I have to. I have got to get up out of this ditch and back on that wagon!

I haven't weighed myself for weeks now. I don't know how much I weigh. But I know I've gained a lot of weight. My clothes are all tight. I feel miserable in my own skin. I can't stand to look in the mirror. I feel so out of shape, so freaking fat and ugly and disgusting.

I don't know what to do to get out of this funk. I haven't been at a normal weight since I was three years old. I have lost and regained weight so many times I can't even count them all. I haven't been under 300 pounds in 11 years. I have SO much freaking weight to lose I don't even know where to begin.

But... I do know what I need to do. I need to eat right and exercise. I know what to do... but I just don't know why I can't seem to do it lately.

Sometimes I wonder why food has such a strong, powerful hold on me. I had a great childhood. I had a wonderful family and home life. I did well in school. We lived in a nice house. My parents loved each other. I can't blame my childhood for my weight problem.

The only thing I can think of is that when I was growing up it seems like a lot of family members died. My grandparents all died, several uncles died, someone was always dying. And when someone died... people brought food to our house. And there was always a meal after the funerals. Did I somehow learn to think that food was a comfort? That food was the answer when one was feeling blue? Did food make me feel better when the world around me was full of grief and pain? Did food become a friend to me that would never die, that would never go away, that would always be there for me... no matter what?

I honestly don't know. But that is the only explanation that even remotely seems to make sense to me.

I'm trying to start over. I'm trying to get a grip on all this and move forward. I'm trying very hard to not give up. And boy, oh boy, am I struggling. But maybe posting this today will help. Maybe just getting all this out in the open and venting will get the ball rolling in the right direction. I hope so. I really do.

Just a Note...

Hi, everyone.

I just wanted to let you all know that I'm still here... still alive. lol

I'll be back later today with more of an update and will moderate and post everybody's previous comments at that time.

I just wanted to take a minute and pop in and say "hello."

I'll be baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!

xo,
C.C.