Blog resurrection.

I haven't written a blog post in well over year.  It just got so hard to keep up with and the pressure I was feeling about trying to post something every few days or every week or even just once a month got to where it was not a fun hobby anymore.  I was always behind and I really didn't need something in my life which made me feel like a failure on a regular basis.  😩

But now I'm back, albeit perhaps only for a short time.  Like maybe 30-something days.

I need to focus.  I need some accountability.  I need to vent.  I need to whine.  At least, I'm pretty sure I'm going to need all those things.

I've been on this weight loss journey for what feels like an eternity but it's actually been just over four years.  The first ~2 years, I focused very hard on "eating right" according to the Gospel of Weight Watchers.  I had tremendous success with that program over that time period, steadily dropping pounds and pants sizes and walking on cloud 9 pretty much all the time.  

Then I kicked it up a notch and joined Farrell's - punching and kicking my way to the healthiest I've ever been.  Feeling strong.  Feeling fit.  Feeling tough.  Even becoming an instructor.  Me!  Instructing fitness classes!  Still seems like a strange alternate reality sometimes.  

But somewhere over the last 12-18 months, I started on a slow backslide.  I don't miss an FXB workout unless I'm out of town.  So, that wasn't the problem.  But my eating habits have taken a nosedive.  I stick with my Weight Watchers protocol mixed together with the right protein/carb balance that FXB taught me most of the time.  Except when I don't.  

Here's where I get brutally honest.  Cause that's what this blogging process is all about.  Put it out there - no hiding - no lying.  It's the middle of the night peanut butter debacle that was my undoing.  I don't really remember when this started, but it's been a good while back.  And that middle of the night peanut butter then became PB plus some of the kids chocolate candy.  Or 10 pieces.  Or whatever.  I called this my zombie eating.  It was literally like I had no control over my arms or legs and the cravings won every time.  

I'd wake up the next morning and just feel AWFUL.  I'm telling you, horrible.  

And I'd go through that day, beating myself up and emphatically telling myself I would NOT repeat that same midnight kitchen adventure that night.  And then, it would happen again.  And again.  And again.  

I would try to be so strictly "good" during waking hours because I knew there was a very high likelihood, I would be anything but once I got to the middle of the night.  So on the outside looking in, people see me eating so healthy and working out diligently and complementing me for working so hard.  But I felt (feel) like a fraud.  Very out of control and if you know one thing about me, it's that I like to be in control.

Then, as if lack of feeling in control wasn't bad enough, the actual physical consequences started showing up.  Next thing you know, all pants with a button were no longer an option in my daily wardrobe selection.  So I bought a couple pair of bigger ones.  And now, those don't fit either.  

Recap.  Feeling out of control.  Eating poorly.  Energy draining.  Stress eating begetting stress eating.  Weight packing on.  Failure swirling.  

So.  Time for a big, fat (pun intended????) intervention.  I cannot go back here:

Friends, in a few days, I'm going to start The Whole30 cleanse / nutrition reset / getmysh*ttogether program.  

I'm.  Very.  Nervous.