Every Now And Then, I Kick The Living Sh*t Outta Me
I know everything I need to know, that there is to know about nutrition. Lack of knowledge isn't my problem, I know what and when I'm doing wrong and continue anyways.
In 2017 in the first half of the year before summer I reached a peak low weight of 320, actually, 318, but I round up in this case because I hit 318 once and 320 multiple times. That was likely the true low anyways. So yeah 320. My dwindling reader base may remember that every time I got this low I shot up 5-15lbs, then got back down and repeated.
There was clearly something psychosomatic about my inability to go any lower. Something within did not want me to continue to get lower, but why? Was I afraid of the realities of things? Maybe I was right, maybe everything would change and my social bubble would explode and I'd be involved in more endeavors and doing more. Maybe that meant I was scared that I wouldn't know who I was going to become, that the person I knew would be erased and maybe people within the current bubble too.
As I am now 100lbs up from that low now, I've often asked myself, what am I without weightloss, without food? When these things are removed from the equation what is left of me? My life has revolved around my weight for 25 years. Using humor to deflect in the beginning, eating to cope, trying to avoid embarrassing situations or constantly reliving them. Dreaming of being thin, trying to lose weight, failing to lose weight, gaining weight, emotional eating, isolating, depression and so on. It's all about weight.
Who am I even now? I'm not as interested in the things I used to be, I virtually eat exclusively as my hobby. I don't write much, I don't game much, I don't watch much. I'm not even sure what I'm interested in so much anymore. I remember I used to draw a lot in my iPad, I also wrote alot on it as well, once it broke I didn't realize the void it may have left. Getting a new iPad isn't an option unfortunately, and there is something about the permanentness of paper that doesn't appeal to me for drawing.
I haven't been able to stick to reading which I realize I did quite a bit of on the iPad too, once it bit the dust I went back to using my old Kindle (before the fancy ones), but it wasn't the same. I may have give it another go tho, I did read two books on it many years ago.
You'll never make it
So I just keep kicking myself when I'm down. It's hard to not feel like it's deserved. Now I'm an unsuccess story. I've been binging to the max lately, and maybe it's because I just don't have much of a passion for things. Of course there are family and friends who have enabled me, the only people pushing for me are my therapist and psychiatrist, ultimately my desire to do different isn't strong. It's becoming harder to live with myself and easier to live through food.
There's literally been people who have come up to me and said with a somber face "so what happened, you were doing so good?" so I know to many people my journey has already become one of those what-a-shame topics, like my few best days are already behind me. And perhaps they are.
Almost everyday this week I've eaten a least 3,600 calories in Reese cups alone. I'm not sure why I should break the cycle, I'm at least fulfilled while I'm eating. After is another story.
