Sometimes I wish that I was one of those people with depression that when they were depressed, they had no appetite and ate nothing at all. I’m quite the opposite, eating everything in sight trying to fill a void that can’t possibly be filled. I just stepped on the scale and I know it’s the end of the day and you should never do that but I am at an all time high for weight. This has got to stop.
The trouble is that when I’m struggling, like I am now, I think that eating things that taste good will make me feel better. It’s not true and never has been true. It’s just a self fulfilling prophecy really. I eat a lot to try to feel better, then I end up gaining weight which gives me more ammunition to feel bad about myself. It’s so bad right now I don’t even pretend like I’m being good because I’m totally not.
But I have to try to find a way to, as Cher would say, snap out of it. It’s not good for my physical health or mental health. I can feel my pants not fitting right, all of my T-shirts are just a little too tight. I guess I’ll have to up my exercise game, but I don’t feel well enough to do that.
Excuses, excuses I guess.