Things just keep getting harder. I’m making more excuses to cheat, sneak foods I’m not supposed to have, and just give up. I tell myself it’s okay because I’m exercising more, I’m burning more calories so I need to eat more, right?
Sure. Whatever sells it.
I keep losing sight of the goal: to manage pain. Just manage pain.
Once I had the eating habits solid, I started exercising and fell in love. When I would bitch about gaining, most people told me to stick to the working, to not worry about the food. I was oh so pleased to comply.
My weight and inches flatlined as I worked harder and cheated more frequently.
My pain worsened.
My depression and disappointment deepened.
I whined about it a lot.
But I didn’t change. I didn’t suck it up.
I woke up at 2am this morning, my body in searing, wracking pain. I knew immediately something I ate the previous day was the culprit. There was nothing I could do but wait. And instead of turning in the afternoon like it usually does, it goes worse, more difficult to bear.
I don’t want to live like this. I’m scaling back. I’ll focus on getting an hour of activity a day. I’m taking out my runs on strength training days and but will walk instead. Instead of pushing through an impossible ab challenge I’m half-assing, I will do two more than I think I can and do every single one properly.
This journey isn’t about losing weight. It’s about managing a chronic condition that severely impedes my quality of life. Even if I suffer no bodily damage, it’s a struggle outsmarting my brain every day. If I get fit in the process, more power to me.