Driving home from my Monday night workout class about a month ago my friend and fellow work-out partner asked me that dreaded question, the one I was hoping no one would ask me for a while – so, how much have you lost? F*ck. I hadn’t really lost anything. When people told me they could notice a difference I knew they were just being nice. I knew it because I hadn’t really done anything substantial. Yes I know, little things start to add up and the little changes we’ve been making are substantial. But I hadn’t quite started putting them all together enough that I’d notice it where I want to the most, the scale.
I should probably start that part of this journey, I thought to myself. Okay, I’m ready. Deep breaths. Hee hee hoo. I think I’ve honestly put off starting the actual weight loss part of this because once I started, once I announced it to the world, I wouldn’t be able to quit. I wouldn’t be able to have a bad week or be seen in the McDonald’s drive-thru without someone noticing me. They’d know I was cheating. “They” being everyone who is so busy with their own lives that they don’t actually care, but in my mind are watching my every move, and worse, judging me. Once I started losing weight I would have to do the one thing that I fear the most, face the possibility that I might fail. And fail in front of so many people. Regardless I thought it was time.
Queue meal prep. Queue daily workouts and daily weigh-ins. Okay, I got this.
Fast forward a week from my friend smacking me in the face with reality and I lost 10lbs. Go me! I posted it to Instagram to share with my family, friends & followers. The praises flooded in.
“Way to go Dee!”
“Such an accomplishment! Way to go lady!”
“Proud of you.”
Ugh, that word. Proud. Having people be “proud” of me, meant I was only opening myself up to disappoint them.
So naturally, I did what anyone else who lost their initial 10 pounds would do. I crumbled under pressure and stopped doing anything all together. That’s a normal thing to do right? Haha, f*ck. If you’re new to my blog this isn’t my first set back. It surely won’t be my last. See, when you’re an Anxiety Girl who also suffers from depression, and I am wholeheartedly an AG*, nothing is easy.
Nothing for me is as simple as “just do it” or “hustle” or “get it done.” These ironically encompass the core values of my job, sh*t. (Though I’m always better at doing them for others, just not so much myself.) And let me be really clear here. It’s not because I’m lazy or unwilling to put in the effort. It’s certainly not because I don’t “want it bad enough.” I want this[weight loss, happiness, freedom] more than I’ve ever wanted anything. So what gives?
Anyone who lives with anxiety & depression, and I know some of you reading this do, knows that the smallest (and I mean tiny, microscopic even) thing can derail you. It can creep into your mind and instantly spread like a virus. Even worse, it can manifest itself into a physical form. Many people who’ve never had anxiety or depression and/or known someone who lives with one or the other, don’t realize that while they are both an illness of the mind, they are as much physical as mental, if not more so.
My anxiety surfaces when I least expect it. It’s that unwelcome friend or family member who shows up unannounced, makes a mess (depression), overstays their welcome and then says something rude on their way out. (And no I’m not passively aggressively referencing anyone currently in my life, lol)
Even writing about it has me feeling like my chest might explode. So what am I learning? That’s it’s okay. It’s okay to not be okay. I honestly don’t know if I’ll ever be okay. But I’m striving to be a whole lot better.
So that’s where I’ve been. Lost in my mind. Doubting myself. Feeling physically ill that I’m constantly back at the beginning. The usual. But I’m still here. I’m still fighting. If you’re thinking this process is slow AF it’s because it is. But it doesn’t mean I’m done, not nearly.
You are never going to keep me down.
Title Lyrics – “I Get Knocked Down” by Chumbawumba