Trying to Maintain

Maintenance is as much of a battle as I thought it would be, maybe even bigger. These past couple of weeks I find myself constantly putting things mindlessly into my mouth with not so much as a second thought to whether or not I am hungry. Earlier this week I ended up devouring half a jar of salsa con queso...not the small jar, but the big one. That combined with the salt-covered tortilla chips at 3 points per ounce, was quite an expensive snack point-wise.

Not having a number-related goal has been difficult to get used to. I tried to set an activity goal instead, but I still have been unable to motivate myself to move. I am less active with each passing week and it's so frustrating because I want to be fit, I want to be truly healthy, and I want to keep this weight off, but I just can't seem to get off of the couch. I say everyday that things are going to change right now, but I always push it off until tomorrow, then the next day, and so it goes.

I can't stress how important it is for me to journal, if I did not write things down and hold myself accountable on paper for the things I eat, I would never have lost these 70 pounds. However, since making goal I notice that I'm saying more and more, "I'll write it down later", and I do, but I end up eating more points than anticipated.

On top of it all, this time of year is so hard for me. It was right after Thanksgiving that I lost my grandmother almost ten years ago at the peak of my anorexia/bulimia. It's hard to believe so much time has passed without her in my life. I miss her every day. She is the reason I am alive today. Before she passed away of pancreatic cancer she asked me to eat again and get better. She believed that I was meant to be around to touch peoples lives in a very special way, maybe it was the morphine talking... but here I am anyway, trying to be the healthiest person I can be. I am still working at it. I'm not perfect and never will be.

I think she said "Hi" to me the other day. I was accepting a delivery and randomly the truck-driver whom I had never met called me Miss Meg. I love it when that happens. In my darkest, coldest moments, it's like a ray of warm sunshine on my face.