The Beginning: Fat Pants Aren't Cutting It Anymore

As someone in recovery from an eating disorder I have never really had problems losing weight until now. I have been thinking about writing this for the past week and am finally saying fuck you to my embarrassment, insecurities, and other really great traits I possess and doing it.

I am finding that it's really hard (like REALLY HARD) to get back into shape and to stop my bad habits like drinking / bingeing and purging / staying up all night when I'm depressed. And welp folks I'm depressed.

Anxiety, now that's a real personal trainer. She helps me miss meals, feel like I'm going to explode if I don't get away from my desk and go to the gym at lunch, wake up with a jolt in the morning to do my yoga, constant panic running through my veins all day. But now that I'm rather numb to life I can't "cheat" on my weight loss / fitness / health goals anymore (which I mean is probably a good thing).

I have never had such a problem getting out of bed. I sleep on my lunches in my car. And either avoid my feelings with habits that are not only unhealthy but also deter me from being able to workout the next day or give me normal hunger cues. When I blog and pour out all the ugliness (or beauty for you positive humans) that is me and my vices and my thoughts on this little guy I not only get a support system, I have to deal with the shit that's in my head and causing me to continue downward.

So here we fucking go. Why the fuck am I sweating so much right now? I'm fighting urges to just delete this. This blog has been such a blessing and a burden. I feel like old me, mostly pre Portland me, was such a great writer. It's like I set the expectations way too high and now I'm over here producing Bring It On Again level writing.

The amount of times I have tried to go low carb, no dairy, no booze, no eating (not really), no bingeing / purging and failed is what is killing me. I see old Facebook memories of me this time last year when I was in the best shape of my life and I get so ashamed. What the fuck is wrong with me? How come I can't get back to her? Why isn't it sticking this time? It's so simple just don't drink, just get off your ass and go to the gym, just don't go to the Mc Donald's so unfuckingly conveneiently located down the street from my house after a night of drinking.
With every failure comes more shame, which I know in my right mind only triggers more poor behaviors. I know that the black and white of failure and success and the desire to be perfect perpetuates my poor coping skills. But my God it feels so good to tear myself apart. I live in my 'fat clothes', when I cave and drink I drink more in a way of punishing myself, and I tell myself those fateful words: I'll start tomorrow. Well tomorrow was two months ago darling.

Today is my tomorrow.

It should also be noted that I know it's not necessarily willpower entirely that I lack, it's my lifestyle as a whole. My struggle makes sense. 

• I moved out of a house that was incredibly unhealthy for me but in doing so I cut ties with people I considered family.
• I have stopped going out to the clubs and lost my identity and with that a ton of people I considered my friends, even if it was only on a surface level. Not going to clubs also means I've stopped dancing which has always been such a powerful outlet for me. 
• I'm on my own again, which while good, also gives me more of an opportunity to hide in my bad habits.
• I'm finding it incredibly hard to make friends at 29. I reach out to those who I have some connections with mostly lackluster responses leaving me to want to recluse even more. 
• Since I have not found something to replace the drinking or something as "satisfactory" as bingeing and purging I will continue to use those coping skills. I DO recognize that exercise helps me feel much better than either of those things but those other coping skills are more quick fixes versus exercise. 
• Lastly, my job underpays me so much so that I work 3 other jobs and am so exhausted from pushing myself so hard that exercise has taken a back seat. My fitness goals and a new job are equally as important as the other, but I need more support with my health. 

So the point of this, is I'm going to commit to writing every day about my food, exercise, mental challenges (or well a summary I mean this isn't a novel and my crazy little self could fill a book) as well as successes until Paradiso.

I'm not sure how I'll structure this entirely and it'll be a work in progress so bear with me.
Here's to the preface to day 1. (fuck now I really can't skip the gym after work or eat all the chocolate in my desk).