It seems that I’ve fallen into the great trap of complacency.
Good-enough and not-too-bad have found a home in my soul.
I’ve grown accustomed to being sad and fat and making everyone around me stop asking me to do things again. “At least I’m not as fat as I used to be.” I say. Last year, I was running, 13 miles at a time, and now, I just sit and sigh and eat and cry.
Sit and sigh, and eat and cry.
Who says I can’t be all that I envision? What has made me so satisfied with being dissatisfied? Do I have to go all the way back and then some to only THEN turn around? That’s like getting lost, and having to go all the way to the coastline before I make the decision that I AM ON THE WRONG ROAD.
It’s been a pattern of mine to stop, start, stop, start. I hate it. It’s not a pattern I want to be involved with any more. I remember when I was losing weight last year, I told a few people, “it’s going to really suck, and then it’s going to suck some more, and after that, it really really sucks. Then, you will smile.”
Right now I say, “enough, and I forgive you. Can we finish this, please?”
No more regrets.
From Cheryl’s Noggin, November 13, 2011