Been awhile since the last post, but that’s just because things have been a little busy, and the sturdy determination that I came back with from thanksgiving got a little bit hijacked by life. But, as I’m sitting here writing this, take it as a sign of good faith that I’m trying to take it back.
Around this time last year, I was dropping like a stone in water to a deeper depression than I had ever experienced before. I’m still on medication to stay balanced, but there are still lows—and low and anxious is kind of where I’ve been making my bed lately. It’s slightly horrifying just how much of my emotional stress is manifested in cravings for pizza. The recent election results literally had me wishing I could crawl into a calzone like a sleeping bag and hibernate for the next four years.
Basically current events, the sun setting sooner, and some biological stress-timer have made eating healthily and carefully difficult. I can feel myself scraping with futility up towards success, but it feels as though I’m losing the battle. So I’m counting calories again.
I’ve done it before, with success. When I was in highschool and made the choice to lose weight for the first time, calorie counting was the biggest tool in my arsenal. The worst of it was that I got obsessed with it. I would count and recount meals over and over, and it was probably mentally unhealthy. But now, as that was years and years ago, I can hope for the good sense to manage this without going over board.
Trying to keep things chill, under control, and not worry too much.
The good news is that I lost half a pound last week from being a number cruncher. Let’s hope this is a trend that keeps up!