OCTOBER 2019. I did it. Personal TMI

THE REBOOT: I am proud of me.

Step One: I have done a good job this past month of getting my brain wrapped around an idea that frankly, scared me. It had been easier to just not care. That idea was that I can't eat grief pringles and play video games 24-7. Writing isn't cardio. Baking isn't strength training.

You see, I made it through the anniversary of 2017 Grief Week without shutting down. I wasn't sure I was ready to commit to eating right and working out nearly every day like I did back 2014-17. I got down to 150, and now I see FB pics and I am like what happened? I KNOW WHAT HAPPENED. #DUMPSTER FIRE. I felt sorry for myself. That was hard work, for years, and that it all went to hell so quickly? It was very disheartening. My natural bend toward the existential ponderments spiraled into WHY? FUCK IT. I lost Gretch in 2013. That was only the beginning. Losing Kathryn. My uncle's suicide, a whole list of celebrities that I truly admired. Vicky and Daddy in the same week! Plus, 45 happened and kept happening! I felt like the world was ending. It just seemed fruitless.  It seemed like every time I turned around someone I loved was dying. Ray in 2018. On one hand, I had basically empty nest syndrome and menopause. On the other, constantly fighting with Hashi's. I just felt hollow and didn't care.

I care again. I see things in the future for which I want to be fit.

Step Two: I am promising myself to getting back down to 150. I know what to do. I did it. I just have to do it again.