Dare to be Fearless

Kopia

New member
I'm back.

No big surprise there. I can list all the reasons for why I fell off the wagon; I can say I was busy, I was tired, I got sick and was on medication that only made me feel worse. And it'd all be true. But then, it'd also be an excuse, and I'm just about done with those. Excuses are great... until they're not; until they become your answer to everything in life. Until you're so far gone, that you're making excuses for excuses, and eventually you simply run out. There are no more excuses to be made. I've reached rock bottom, and after mucking about for years, the only way I plan to go is up.

I've come to realize that my life thus far has been nothing more than wasted potential, and at the very root of this problem is my lack of self confidence. I care too much about what others think, and not enough about what I think of myself. I've put their priorities over my own, and I've let so much of my life be dictated by fear and self consciousness, that I no longer had control of it. And that is where all the weight came in.... I didn't go out because I didn't want to be seen by others, food became my friend, and my bed was always where I felt safest. But the thing is, I don't want to live like that anymore. I mean, who does? Can that even be considered living, or am I just alive for the sake of being alive?

I want to feel safest in my own body - not when hidden under covers - and in order to do that, I have to take back control of it.

My body is sacred, and it's the only one I've got in this life. I need to treat it with the respect it deserves, because if I can't respect my own body, how can I ever hope to respect myself as a person? And yet it goes both ways; I have to respect myself, if I ever hope to respect my body. The abuse I've put myself throughout the years shows, physically and mentally, and I have to work on both if I ever want to be the person I know I can be.

I'm jumping in, head first. Like ripping off a bandage, I'm going to be aggressive about it. I've done the slow work up, and while it's led to minor results, it was so easy for me to just fall back into old routines. I need that wake up call, that drastic change. It's going to suck, it's going to hurt, and I'm going to hate it at first. But my body will adapt, and so too, will hopefully my outlook. I hope to supplement this diary through pictures and videos, in order to give me something to look back on and see how far I've progressed. Words are nice, and a great way to keep accountable on a day-to-day basis, but you can't see the change. I want to know what I looked like and what my fitness was like at each stage; before, after, and everything in between.

I have goals, of course - both short term and long. Long term obviously would be to scale down to an appropriate weight for my size (which would require me to lose 30+lbs) and to improve my overall fitness, and I'm giving myself a full year on that (from which I would then work on maintaining, and continuing to improve my physical health). My short term goals, for the moment, include my sister's wedding in October, and then a 5k run on Thanksgiving day. They're both extreme motivators for me, and I don't plan selling myself short with either. I refuse to give into my inhibitions, and I refuse to hand back power over to fear.

I've seen failure, I've lived it. And now I want to see what it's like to succeed.
 
This was actually really inspiring to read! I can't give advice because I've been unsuccessful thus far, but it sounds like you are in the right frame of mind. Good luck!
 
Welcome back! I like your last line and your whole post was very inspiring. You are on the right path.
 
First off, thank you to Bug and kaplooie for your wonderful comments! I appreciate it!

As expected, these first few days have been pretty miserable... and I'm loving every second of it. Because for once in my life, I have something actually worth being miserable for. It's not the usual cloud of depression that hangs over me (often for no other reason than to simply be depressed), but because I'm tired. I'm sore. I'm ignoring foods I WANT to eat, and reaching for foods I find a little less pleasant. It's absolutely terrible, and yet at the same time, completely wonderful.

Speaking of food, I've given myself an even 1500 calories per day, and I've done what I can to make sure those calories aren't wasted. I think I've eaten more fruit and vegetables these past few days than I have in the past month alone, and I've loaded my freezer with those single-serve packaged chicken breasts for easy meal prep. Stove cooked oatmeal with blueberries, chopped walnuts and a bit of brown sugar and cinnamon has become my go-to breakfast thus far, and it's done well to keep me full and satisfied through the morning. My one vice, however, seems to be coffee. I'm an avid drinker, and can go through an entire pot if left to my own devices, and though I only put a minimal amount of creamer and sugar, it does add up throughout the day. Slowly, I hope to replace one cup of coffee for green tea at a time, until I've cut back until perhaps a single cup of Joe in the morning. Because I don't want to drink my calories when I can eat them and gain more sustenance from a few bites, rather than a few sips.

As for exercise, I've split my workouts up throughout the day. Mornings are for weights, evening is for cardio. Since I'm aiming for a run on Thanksgiving, I've started the C25K routine, and on the days I don't run, I instead use the rowing machine or stationary bike to fill my cardio slot. I also try to stretch and move around as much as I can throughout the day, even if it's just a short walk down the hall and back to get my blood flowing. Saturday and Sunday have been allotted as my relaxation days, with Saturday being filled with light activity (ex: a long, leisurely walk instead of the gym), and Sundays are for complete rest.

Some would say I'm moving too fast; trying to do too much, too soon. And maybe you're right. But I'd much rather move too fast, than not at all. And as for keeping my motivation going, this time around, I'm not running off of hopes and dreams. I'm running off of anger, of which I have plenty. I'm running off disappointment. And I'm running off the realization that I'm never going to live if I don't start living right.

And I've decided: I want to live.
 
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