I lost 142 pounds.
I lost my mind.
I gained 25 pounds.
I will never find in food what I seek. But I keep looking for it there. Over and over again.
I’m not even sure what “it” is. Inner peace? Love? Nirvana?
Food is fuel. But it is so much more. It calms. It excites. It numbs. It kills. (So dramatic!)
After a year and a half of very regimented calorie counting, I started eating. AND EATING AND EATING AND EATING.
Do I eat because I hate myself or hate myself because I eat?
Or is that what “it” is? That thing I keep looking for in food. Anger. Self-reproach. Further proof of my unworthiness. (Good grief. I’m too tired to drag my daddy issues out into the light today.)
If that is it, then eureka! Mission accomplished. Call in the dogs. Job well done.
Grandpa died last week. He was 94. He and my Grandmama were married 65 years. Can you imagine?
It's such an odd thing. I didn't want him to suffer. I wished for him to be released. It was so awful for him to be in pain all the time. But now I am heartbroken.
And just so damn tired.
I've written before about my father and what his absence meant in my life. Grandpa was one of the people that filled that space, along with my mom and my family as a whole. I have been so blessed. I am so blessed.
In other news, I am "this close" to having lost 90 pounds since joining SparkPeople.com in September. No shit.
This song has been in rotation on my radio station. The tune kept getting stuck in my head before I knew the name of the song, kind of haunting me a bit. The second rotating woman video I've posted lately.