Look, okay, I know that I have quite a few health problems.
I’m really very aware of them, what’s going on, and what the future could hold.

Heck, at this point, I probably could almost be a doctor.
I’ve been poked and prodded in just about every imaginable way over the past two years.  I’m getting to the point that I have no shame when I got to put on the robe that ties in the back.   Maybe I should invest in my own with my initials on the shoulder.

Next week, I see podiatrist.  This is a new one, but I think it’s pretty important.  At times, every step I take causes pain and my body tries to adjust.    That throws off the hips, knees, and ankles, which can cause additional problems.

Okay, I know this.
My mom has had both feet operated on.  My sister has issues.   Jason does his best to walk correctly.     I know.  I understand.

Dollars to daisies, the podiatrist is going to say I need to lose weight.   My feet will just get worse…. blah, blah, blah.

It isn’t like I haven’t been trying over the past six months or so.
I have walked hundreds of miles in Florida.
I am at the gym between four to six days a week.  Seven days if I can manage.  (despite the foot pain)
I try really hard not to eat after 8pm, although I fail sometimes, and I’ve been drinking a lot more water.

All of this has netted me a three pound gain, per the doctor scales.

It’s really difficult not to look back fondly during the time when I was 80 pounds.
I know I was pretty messed up then to, but I didn’t have cancer, osteoporosis, or arthritis.  Those are pretty major and can make my ending years really painful.

I don’t need any more pain.

So, my brain considers other ways, punishing ways, habitual ways that I developed that lead me to the House.  But, I know those aren’t right either… still, that doesn’t negate all of this other medical stuff that’s wrong with me.

Round and round I go.

I know I should eat to live, but I shouldn’t eat to live either.

To top it off, I feel like I’m out of control.   Like, life out of control and I’ve always been in control.  Or, at least, maintained the illusion I was.  Any pretense of that is gone.  All of my efforts are fairly futile and it’s driving me insane.

One of my shrinks, JS, told me I should recite the Serenity Prayer every morning.
Apparently, I lack the wisdom to know what I can change and what I can’t.

I just can’t figure out how I was so small and, now, I can’t push the body size back to a nice and level weight.   A weight that won’t damn me physically and won’t worry the family either.

I’m just trying to figure this out and it’s taking a toll.
I count the hours I’m awake and how often I should eat.   I’m thankful when each day is done and I meet this fixed food/activity requirement that I have in my head.   I negative self-talk when I fail. I should try to really enjoy the day and being with the people who love me instead of feeling like I’m half faking it because of being so self-centered.

And I know this isn’t right, but I can’t seem to stop the process.
Two different people reside in my brain.

Damn it.
I shouldn’t be worried about stuff like this during this time of my life.
Instead, I should be worried about my kid’s college, house payments, and (hopefully) vacations.  I should be gunning for that promotion at work.  I don’t know… whatever normal people worry about.

But no.
Here I am.
Just a physical and mental hot mess.

Isn’t it bad when I think things where better when I was 80 pounds?

Round and round and round I go.

/bashes head into the wall