Derailed...Again...

I am currently sitting in front of my fireplace, under a blanket in my chair, feeling hopeless and helpless.

A few days ago, my PIC suggested that I blog some of my frustrations. He said that it was important to share the negatives as much as it was the positives. It was important to share the downs as much of the ups. At the time, I didn't want to. I was more in the mood to wallow and feel sorry for myself. There is a time and a place for a pity party, and I was hosting one right here. Rather than let me be, he persisted. He told me that I wasn't alone - but gosh, it certainly feels that way.

For most of my life, I struggled with that number on the scale. I remembered the panic I the first time I crept above 200. The joy at being back in "1-derland." (That beautiful place when the first number of your three digit weight is a "1.") There were times when I literally would do anything to be thin. Eat cabbage for a week? Sure! Two meals a day? I got that? Long-term fasting? Easy-peasy. A pill that kills my appetite? I will take it after breakfast!

I wanted to be skinny. SKINNY. 5'10", 130lbs, size 6, "have you met my ribs" skinny. I joined groups, weight loss centers, read books...both nothing worked? Do you know why? Because SKINNY doesn't work.

There wasn't a single person - not at a WW meeting, not in my dance classes, not at skating or at cheer - not a single person who took the time to explain to me that being skinny wasn't sustainable. No one explained the concept of strength and how important it was to have muscle mass. It took me until my late 20's to learn about it and my mid-30's to really understand it.

Now I have a whole new problem.

When the PIC walked into my life over three years ago, he taught me to not be afraid of the unknown. He pushed me to try everything that I said I couldn't do. It went something like this:

Me: I can't walk on a treadmill.
PIC: Let's warmup on the treadmill today...2.5 miles for 5 minutes

Me: I can't do squats
PIC: Let's start with some TRX squats

Me: I can't lift
PIC: Meet my friend, the flat bench

Somewhere along the line, something clicked. The pieces came together...the fat started to melt away and my body felt and looked stronger. Something else happened though - I became an addict.

I am completely addicted to the way weight lifting makes me feel. I like the rush. Feeling "swole." I like the accomplishment. So what is my problem? I now feel guilty when I don't or can't lift. I feel worse about myself when I am not in the gym...and I beat myself up more now than I ever have before.

This winter has been a tough one. Between myself and the kiddos, we have battled the flu, stomach flu, colds, more stomach bugs...you name it. I'm not complaining. There are far worse things that could happen than a handful of short-term illness - I know that. I am, however, at a loss as to how to overcome the feelings I have now after being sick with something-or-other for the past three months.

I am tired. I feel defeated. I am completely overcome with guilt over not being in the gym. I am feel out of control over my health, my wellness and my weight loss journey. I am not feeling very strong...emotionally, mentally or physically.

When I first started this blog, it was a way of keeping me excited about my workouts and process. (And yes, I know that this is a process.) I had promised myself that this would be a place to be positive and uplifting...that if someone else saw my posts that maybe it would encourage them along their way too. How do I encourage myself?