I always seem to come back here when I’m stuck.
I no longer believe in myself. I no longer see a light at the end of this dark, fat tunnel. I see others reaching goals, and I’m still in the same exact place. Where’s the fire? Where’s the passion? Why can’t I finish what I’ve started?
If I’m honest with myself, I’m not giving myself a chance to succeed. I’m not truly committed. I’m not tracking the way I should be. I’m not moving the way I should be. I’m not choosing healthy choices more than the unhealthy ones. I’ve taken the backseat again. I’m placing all of my faith and hopes into other people and then I’m surprised when at the end of the week, the scale hasn’t moved. What works for others is not working for me.
Perhaps it’s not so much that the support system isn’t working, but more that I have flat out refused to use it? Would I find support from my husband if I asked for it, or is it that I think I shouldn’t have to ask at all?
Perhaps the light is there, but I refuse to see it. The dark has always been a comfort to me. It’s all I’ve ever really known.
There is so much in my life that I do not have control over right now. Food and exercise is one thing that I can control and choose not to. Why is that?
I just feel lost on the journey. I set goals and don’t ever reach them. Am I setting them too high? Am I even really interested in reaching them?
The reality plays out on my scale every week. I can’t afford to not take this seriously anymore. I can’t afford to fail.