Day 190. I'm pretty much just struggling. And as a consequence I've avoided talking about it here or anywhere else.
The accident fucked me up. I was on a roll. Nearly 4 months of solid weight loss. Eating right. Exercise.
Then...bam! All of it ruined on a sunny Wednesday in September.
Every day is a fight now. A fight to eat right. And every day I lose. And that compounds my shame and guilt and misery.
Today I packed a healthy lunch and snacks. I avoided junk. I did well.
But to what end? I can feel the dank, dark cave of depression enveloping me. A bulwark of angst looming all around me.
And that itself is some bullshit. I have an amazing life. A beautiful, loving wife. 3 intelligent and healthy kids. A great career.
I should be more grateful. I really want to be.
And I feel guilty for not feeling happy.
But I'm not gonna hide from it anymore.
I've already outed myself. I've told people. I'm not carrying this burden in my head and my heart alone.
Honesty will pull me through this because secrets have always fed my sicknesses.
I'll beat this thing. I've picked my way out of the cave before; like a forlorn miner determined to find light and air again. But, counter intuitively, I've always had to dig deeper to get out.
And I won't stop digging.
Today's weight: the world