Not a horrible day but enough that I have already thrown up. Thank goodness I had not just eaten peanut butter. That never comes up easy and I thought that ice cream was the worst thing to throw up.
Anyways, so my husband made me wonder today what am I afraid of. I know the answer. I am afraid I will finally get to my goals and once I am that person, it will not make one hell of difference for my emotional state. I will still be me just thinner, fitter, but still me. I think about it a lot in reference to my BFF's mom. I believe she thought that moving into a 1 story house would help make her Parkinson's less noticeable. She would fall less and would feel younger again too. Post move when that did not happen, she freaked out and had a psychotic break. What if that happens to me? What if I get to point Z and then I am still not happy with me? What do I do then? Do I go crazy? The fear of being fat and/or crazy again is what I fear more than anything, and those two are so wrapped up in another. Life would be so easier if I did not have to face food all of the time. I guess that is where I think food addiction is the hardest addiction. I have to eat to live, and I HATE that. Why does me still being me bother me so much? Now that is the next question!
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment