I was so hopeful on October 3rd. I had just found out that I was going on a Caribbean vacation the following March and I was going to lose weight. I was aiming for ten to 20lbs with an emphasis on the twenty. I even made a weight loss journal on my computer as an incentive. I figured I would track my weight loss journey, instead I watched as I gained and lost the same five pounds over and over (and over). The trip came and went with me still losing and regaining those same pounds.
Then I saw my psychiatrist last month and admitted that while my depression was mostly under control, my anxiety wasn’t. My lithium and abilify were increased along with my weight and it has. not. budged. My anxiety’s only a minute bit better.
I can’t do this anymore. I can’t struggle, depriving myself of treats, panicking because I didn’t get out for a walk this one day or that my walk wasn’t long enough. I can’t keep feeling like a failure, that if I just walked a little more… ate a little less… I’d do so much better. It’s not working.
From now on I’m only weighing myself once a month, not once a day, and I’m not going to panic if I don’t get 10 thousand steps every single day. I will eat healthy but allow room for some treats. Mmm mini vegan peanut butter cups!
I don’t own a crystal ball. I have no idea how this is going to turn out, but it’s got to be better than what I’m doing.