I started the journey to a more healthy life in 2009 and transformed my take on food and nutrition in 2010. Everything as I knew it changed for me. It was all a part of the journey:
- Food prep
- Portion control
- Food choices
- Balancing macronutrients
- Rearranging schedules
- Planning workouts
- Moving more
- Eating less (crap)
- Learning what’s in the food we eat
- How to deal with injuries
- Coming back from surgeries
There are more facets to this lifestyle, but you get the idea. There are levels to this life, if you are to maintain it.
So here we are. I have not kept up my end of the bargain. After my last surgery in September, I have not physically or mentally recovered fully. Yes, I’ve pretty much healed and the scars are fading, but I lost something important along the way, I stopped making time for food prep, working out and watching what food I put in my body. Dare I say, I stopped caring.
My weight has dramatically increased since the end of last summer and I’m struggling to get a handle on the problem. To my defense ( if there is one), I have scheduled my time to within an inch of its life with outside activities. I teach more fitness classes (yeah, bizarre, right) I started back to night classes to finish a program is started a few years ago and I’m also studying for another fitness certification. I still have a career that is very demanding and requires being on call, working off hours and studying to stay ahead of changing technologies. AND we got another dog.
With all of that, I’m always tired and I don’t get enough sleep to ever feel rested.
As I type these words, I wonder how it ever got to this point, how I got so busy and became this person I barely recognize. I so look fat, none of my clothes fit anymore. I saw a photo yesterday that someone had taken of me from the back and I almost cried. It’s so bad, I don’t wear my yoga pants as pants anymore and I’ve taken to wearing sweatpants everyday. Part of it is personal family issues, part of it is trying to overachieve, part of it is financial, part of it is fear of not completing something, part of is feeling isolated.
I’m not sure where I’m going with this post, I just needed to dump these words somewhere, even if I’ve not said them all outloud before now.
I hope writing is as cathartic as everyone makes it out to be. We shall see.