I take a deep breath and then slowly step on the scale. Heart pounding, palms sweating, I look down at the number. Yep, that’s it. 20 pounds away from 200 pounds. I’ve never been here before. Scrolling through pictures from merely several months ago I see a completely different person. Someone that was still okay. Someone that didn’t feel like one tofu sandwich away from death. Honestly, I straight up feel like giving up most days. It has only been three months since I gave birth to my daughter prematurely. Yet, I feel like I should be back to myself. I probably would be if everything had worked out the way it was supposed to but unfortunately grief doesn’t work that way for me.
Grief makes me sit around and emotionally eat. Grief causes me to force myself to laugh when really I’m choking back tears. And grief makes me want to give up and bake cookies instead of going hard in the gym. So on days like today, where I’m somewhere in between feeling okay and feeling like crap, I journal, listen to music, and most importantly listen to what my body needs and wants. Sleep? Water? Dark chocolate almonds?
I hope that I am able to easily slip into sleep this evening. I hope that I am courageous enough to start over tomorrow. I hope I have the will to say “no” to sweets and “yes” to exercise.