Okay, that may be a little dramatic. Especially considering there has been no great reason why I have disappeared; no reason for my lack of blog posts other than I was busy, and I was embarrassed by my level of stress eating. I've found throughout my journey that this is a "walking 15 miles in the snow, uphill both ways" type climb, and sometimes I trip and roll down the hill and have to restart.
As much as I mean that figuratively, there's also some literal meaning to it. Living in the valley of Connecticut ain't no joke, especially when you're trudging your way up a hill. Over the last month, I've tried walking a few times around my neighborhood only to end a sweaty, out of breath, hot damn mess. I'm not sure if it was because I was still recovering from my bronchitis, or if the hills are really that steep, but I thought my calves were going to explode and my chest was going to catch fire and burst, especially on the hills that I would have to climb to get back home. One of the major questions that flew through my mind(other than, "how the hell am I getting up this hill?" and "will someone please kill me?") was, "how did I ever let myself get this out of shape?".
Some answers to that last question are easily answered, and other answers are not so much. If you were to look back over the last 12 years of my life, you would be able to see a steady increase of weight alongside a steady decrease of activity and exercise. It would be much easier to play the victim, and I have before, and say that because of my genetics or my multiple moves and other terrible life experiences, I gained the weight. But then I would have to look at my brother who share the same genetics, and made the same moves with me, and still turned out to be in prime physical shape. (Yes, boys are different but still.) I can only blame myself, and my poor eating and exercising choices. I don't say this because I'm feeling bad for myself, although I definitely have felt bad for myself, I say this as conformation and acceptance that I cannot go back and change the past; I can only change the future.
Gorging on cake, and soda and all the bad things I hate that I love would be much easier, but obviously the easy way is not working for me, and hasn't for awhile. I'm thankful that I've recognized this, and I'm thankful that even though I've stopped, I restarted again with minimal damage. I might not be where I was a month ago, but I'm climbing my way back. Or you know, rising from the ashes.
