Starting really is the hardest part... The time leading up to your actual start is filled
with doubt, doubt, and more doubt. As
everyone is different each of our “starts” will look different from the others
person start.
My start happened a few weeks ago with admitting that I need
help and then asking for help. The help
I needed as my start was in the form of a shorter commute. My manager is an amazing person who was very
kind and let me work closer to home 4 days a week. I used to have a three hour round trip commute
three days a week and after two years it showed me that I cannot get healthy
with losing three hours a day form a majority of the week.
It was very hard for me to ask for help, I have always had
the mindset that if I was strong enough I could do it without having to bother anyone. One of my big issues is that I always feel
like I’m bothering people. It drives my boyfriend
crazy as he’ll try to do something for me and I’ll tell him never mind don’t
worry about it. I think I have control
issues and if I keep people from doing things for me than I can control what
effort I can give back. Not that I don’t
want to give back. The opposite if I could
give all I would it’s just that I am so down on myself I talk myself out of
helping and now that I’m older and have gained all my weight back plus more I
just feel awful all the time. Physically
and Mentally. One of my best friends commented
the other day that I was happier when I was thinner and I felt really bad that
he could see my pain. I thought I was
good at hiding my bad stuff but as I get older I realize people can see thru the
smile; it’s never fake, I love life and all those around me but carrying an
extra 200lbs around will take it out of a person.
I hurt all the time and I have been walking with a cane for
almost a year, plus I just found out that my boyfriend is more concerned about
my health than I realized. He doesn’t
see me as healthy (which in all fairness I’m not) but if he doesn’t feel like
he can count on me then I feel really bad that he has to be concerned about
what happens if I die.
I won’t go into my whole back story of how I got to here but
I’m here and I don’t want to be. I want
to be mobile, I want to be the Lover, the Friend, the Family member that can be
counted on and not the person who needs a chair wherever she goes because I can’t
stand for more than two minutes.
I don’t know what tomorrow will bring but it is a little
less scary because I’ve started. And stating is the hardest part.
