That bag of chips

My personal story of getting stuck, or unstuck, connects so often with food.  I know it's pretty common.  But how food became a source of comfort and relief for me but in times of stress is part of why I get into sedentary, slow modes.  I can't deny that one of the most comforting things for me is eating.  That chip, that fry, the feeling of that bite. So getting unstuck means unpacking that, owning it, and in some cases redirecting it to other things.

Two times in my life I have lost substantial amounts of weight.  After freshman year of college I lost about 15 lbs, that typical freshman 15.  I was interning at church and the treadmill was right there so I ran almost every day I worked.  I also switched from Coke to Diet Coke which no doubt helped.  Freshman year of college was when I started really drinking soda a lot, every day.  But I feel like I always loved soda and would have had more if available growing up.  When it was up to me that's where I went.  But anyway, I went back to sophomore year tuned in and ready to go.  I stayed pretty darn fit for awhile then, until at least through senior year pre-wedding, and then through grad school with the first half marathon.

When I did my first triathlon I was about 170 or so, probably one of the most fit times of my life.  Over the next few years a lot happened.  We started trying for a family, and that process brought frustration, depression, and medications.  I was 180 or 185 by the time I got pregnant with Elizabeth, and gained at least 30 lbs with her (all healthy).  But then I struggled to get down below 190 before Avery came along.

After Avery, emerging from the baby haze I was not happy.  I was 214 when I started 2B mindset with some college friends.  I did it.  It was great.  I remember feeling so IN CONTROL for the first time in awhile.  I lost 25 lbs to 189.  Then that group stopped posting for accounability, my habits started to revert.  I teetered in low 190s until Covid.  Fin Covid.  Not only upending my life but removing the daily movement of walking.  I did a lot of walking through the summer but not enough and then when the cold fall hit it all broke down.  The walking wasn't enough to offset reverting to bad eating habits and so I'm back up to 199, hovering just below the mark I promised myself I would never hit again.  I am trying not to.  But I am struggling to reclaim that power and control.  I reminded myself the other night that I am the only one who can control me.  I know that.  I always have.  Making that louder in my mind than the habit that shortcuts me to the soda, the breadsticks, the chips.  That's the challenge of my moment.

It becomes a spiral.  I eat more, I see the scale, I get frustrated, I give up.  The daily battle is to not get up.  To step on again, to try again.  And when my energy gets low I start to lose that ability to will myself to keep trying.  So I'm trying to get myself to that reset.  What will it take this time?  What does it mean for me to have this as a continuous struggle.  Will it be with me my whole life?  I would love for that to not be the case, but again that's up to me.  Up to me.