This past week has been filled with emotional ups and downs, both personally and professionally.

I’ve felt drained, frustrated, and just depressed all the way around.  It’s been hard to even pull myself out of bed this weekend.  I haven’t been able to focus on work and have barely touched my books or craft room.

I haven’t even looked at Pinterest.


That’s when you know there’s a problem.

I wish I could say that I redirected all of my negative energy into some epic workouts.

I would like to say that I didn’t let it affect my nutrition and was able to reign in my bingeing.

Well, unless blizzards are now made from skim milk and quinoa, then I’m in trouble.

Until today, I hadn’t been to the gym since last Sunday, so six full days.  On top of that, I’ve been eating everything in sight since Tuesday.

I’ve had pizza, chicken strips, ice cream, doughnuts, Skittles, and a plethora of other delicious horrors.  I’ve spent the past five days saying, “I’ll get back on track tomorrow” or “I’ve already screwed today up, I might as well eat what I want tonight.”  It has definitely been the worst (and longest) binge episode that we’ve experienced in the past year and a half.  Looking back on it, I can’t believe that I ever ate like this on a daily basis.

I feel horrible.  My stomach is killing me, I’ve had a migraine for two days, and my pants are already getting snug.

This shit is miserable.  Why did I ever (and continue to, apparently) eat this mess?  The difference is almost unbelievable.

I woke up this morning and my first thought was “I’ve given up.  I can’t do this anymore.  I made a valiant effort, but it just isn’t in the cards for me.  I’m never going to be able to lose this weight.”

Almost as soon as I thought it, I dismissed it.

Giving up was no longer an option.

I know in my heart that I have what it takes to pull this off.  I just need to learn how to transmit that message from my heart to my brain.

We have family in town for the weekend (another triigger, but one we normally don’t have a problem with) so I know it’s going to be very difficult to get back on track today, but so far I’m managing.  I’ve kept my food in check all day (so far) and I’ve logged everything in My Fitness Pal.

We also forced ourself to go to the gym.  I was petrified (as always) that I had completely lost my fitness level and was going to be forced to start all over.  I went in with the mentality that I would “allow” myself to just take it easy today and kind of ease my way back into it.

The first 10 minutes was brutal.  Of course my brain was telling my heart, “See!  It’s over.  All this hard work down the drain.  You can barely breath and you’re just on the elliptical.”  I struggled to get my heart rate up and when I finally saw the 140’s I thought I was going to pass out.  Luckily, in the 11th minute something snapped and it felt like it all came back.  I pumped up the resistance, finished all of my intervals, and was rocking out and smiling by the end of it.  Afterwards, we headed over to the circuit and before I knew it we had spent an hour in the gym and I felt terrific!


Exercise if the #1 treatment for depression.  

Get out of bed and move your ass.

That is all.

It’s very easy to let times like this take over.  I feel like an imposter to all the people that tell me they’re proud of me or inspired by me.  It makes me think that I’ve not only let myself down, but all the friends and family members that have supported me over the years.  I walked into work one day last week and someone made a comment on my weight loss and how they admired my willpower.  Of course, I couldn’t just say thank you – I had to launch into a full explanation about why I didn’t deserve their admiration.

I wish I would have just said thank you.

I’m not 100% better just yet, but I’m definitely getting there.  I certainly no longer have the fear that I’m giving up and this is all over.  As soon as we left the gym, I could tell a drastic improvement.  It’s hard to convince myself, in the throes of anxiety issues, that exercise is the cure to most all of my mental ailments.

The moral of my story is that it’s never too late to “come back.”  If you have a bad day, make it just that.  A bad day.  If it’s a bad week, then it’s a bad week.  Bad month…well you get the picture.  All of these are ok, and happen to everyone (even people that look like they have it all together).

The secret is to not make it a bad forever.


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