I wanted to never track again. I wanted to will myself into eating properly and just losing weight. I wanted to show my daughter what healthy eating was just by knowing what’s healthy and what’s not.
I failed miserably. I have gained.
Today, I’m back to Weight Watchers. Well, kinda. I found a bootleg point tracker app called Points Plus Tracker for $1.99. I’ll use it until I prove to myself that I’m not just going to throw money away and not participate like I was doing before. Then I may rejoin weight watchers because I love the meetings, but for now this works.
I had a
breakdown breakthrough yesterday. I’ve been feeling really down since we got back from Wisconsin. I’ve been extremely moody and weepy, just not like myself. Yesterday I went to Target while Matt stayed home with Quinn. I grocery shopped like a zombie and overspent by $100. I don’t know what I was thinking, but on the way home I called Matt to tell him my screw up and just broke down. Over groceries. I had a full blown panic attack over messing up at Target. He calmed me down and told me to come home. I got home and laid in bed with him and it all just came out.
It’s hard talking about how I feel because there’s always that fear that what I say will be misconstrued and I will hurt someone. Luckily, I’m married to the most kind and gentle man imaginable, and he understood and reassured me that it’s ok. As we were talking, I simply said “I’m sad”.
It all just poured out-
I’m sad that my friend had to die of cancer. I’m sad that he had to leave behind his 5 year old son and wife. I’m sad that his mother lost her only son. I’m sad that his sister lost her big brother. I’m sad that they didn’t catch it in time. I’m sad that he was one of the strongest people I knew, and cancer killed him in mere months.
Then came the “I’m scared”-
I’m scared that the same thing will happen to us. I’m scared that I’ll die and Quinn won’t remember me. I’m scared that Matt will die and I will cry forever. I’m scared that Quinn will lose one of us and never know how much we love her. I’m scared that no one will take care of her like I do. I’m scared of something bad happening.
This would all sound over the top to the average person, but there’s a lingering backstory.
A lump. Mass. Bump. Cyst. Tumor? Thing. Let’s just call it a thing until I know for sure.
There’s a thing under my left arm. I go Friday for an ultrasound and mammogram. I’m scared. For all of the reasons I listed above and more that I can’t even speak or type because I can’t let my mind go there, but I’m scared.
Everyone says it’s probably nothing. That’s what everyone said to Luke, too. And Jason, my friend Melissa’s husband that died a few months ago after a year-long battle with an aggressive bile duct cancer, they told him that, too. People my age are dying. That is scary.
So if you could spare some thoughts, prayers, voodoo, witchcraft or just love in general for me right now, I’ll take it.
And my return to tracking points, which used to be completely motivated by my need to fit into smaller clothes and look better naked, is 100% motivated by my need to be around. And be the healthiest me that I can be.