The Winter of My Discontent

This is the winter of my discontent. I’m sad and lonely, and I’ve given up in a lot of ways. You know what? Sometimes it’s just too damn hard. The anxiety of being 30 and single. The staleness of a job. The lack of new people in my life. The total lack of excitement. I’m so fucking bored! And why the hell should I go to the gym when it doesn’t mean a damn thing. It doesn’t fucking work. Going to the gym doesn’t fucking work. But I’m so freaking fat. You should see me. I look like Jabba the Hut. I look ridiculous. I’m short, but my stomach sticks out to.......................................................................here. It’s gross. I’m gross. And I just refuse to budge! I don’t want to be active. I just want to hole up in my dreary studio in my bed reading and watching tv. It’s SHAMEFUL how little I move. I need to reconnect with my body, but I’m too terrified of my body to go near it. If that makes any sense at all. If I’m in control of my life, then why can’t I do the fucking simplest most basic things that I want to do! I don’t know. I’m confused and a little loss. But since I’m not going to kill myself, then I really I don’t have a choice. I just have to fucking do it. Somehow.

It’s silly, but my wonderful dad sends out the daily message texts. A few days ago he sent, “Be not angry that you cannot make others as you wish them to be, since you cannot make yourself as you wish to be.” --Thomas Kempis. A poignant little statement that did make feel a little easier towards some people in my life, but I still don’t feel absolved. I’m terrified. I’m terrified that I won’t ever lose the weight.