For the last month or so, I was backsliding. I wasn't logging my foods into MyFitnessPal, I was avoiding going to the gym, I was sticking pretty close to my eating plan but I was just eating more. As a result, I was feeling bad about myself, rehashing all the negative self-image issues and basically tearing myself down.
It should have been no surprise that I hopped on the scale and discovered I'd gained 10 pounds yet it was. What followed was more self-hate.
When I got the call about my brother, all of this got set aside as I flew over to him as quickly as I could. When you're sitting in a hospital, endlessly waiting, you have a chance to think. I'm still unraveling the life lessons from this but I addressed my self-hate. My brother, my conservative, emotionally inept little brother had the guts to go for it, to do what his soul yearned to do and if he dies from it, I know it will be doing exactly what he loved.
And I was whining because it was hard or that I didn't want to or... ??? Yeah, no. I gave myself a big dose of "get-the-eff-over-yourself" and realigned my attitude back to where it needs to be.
Since I've been back I've hit the gym hard, worked out at home with new exercises and really pushed my body. I was sore, sore, sore but it felt so good. Tomorrow I go back again, mostly because I can move without my legs or arms screaming at me - lol. My eating is spot on and in moderation. And, I'm happy to say those 10 pounds are gone. *poof*
I'm ok until I get in my head and screw with it.