It's Not All Unicorn Rainbow Farts

It's common on this glorious piece of technology that we call the Internet to share just the awesome stuff and not the not-so-awesome stuff. We want people to think we have these glorious lives where all we do all day is drag our men around on adventures, twist into various shapes on the sand (WITHOUT getting sand in various orifices), and put together culinary masterpieces/craft projects.

In a desire for full disclosure, I too lead such a glorious life. Okay, not really, but I can't complain. I have my health, I have my son, I have a job I'm excited to wake up for, and I have my puppy. No, I don't make enough money to start socking away for retirement or my son's college, nor do I make enough to buy the coolest toys or even pay my student loans (yet - I've got them on forbearance, so I'm good for now). But I make enough to take inexpensive weekend trips every now and then with my little guy, and I try to always find the brighter side of life.

All-in-all, while I might not be rich or even comfortable financially, I feel truly rich in what my life does offer me. So when 99% of my posts in the Inter-ether are positive, that's me still being real and not just showing you the good stuff. My life is pretty darn good, all told.

But there are moments where I struggle, especially on this crazy weight loss trip, and I've had a long run of a moment since the day I had surgery: A feeling of indifference, or maybe a better word would be inevitability, when it comes to my weight loss. I try to post things to celebrate losses and NSVs, not to get feedback (which is SUPER NICE), but to try to convince myself to be happy about this process.

Because the truth is, I'm not happy.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not UNhappy, but I'm not ecstatic or excited or anything with that kind of effervescence.

The problem is that I am a pro weight-loser. I've spent my entire life losing weight. And every single time, I gained it back and then some. Every time. I'm not "scared" that I'll fail at this too. It's just that I still have that mindset that I'll get where I want to be, then gain it all back and then some. The logical, Vulcan mind side of me says that won't happen; I'm more committed to this process than any I ever have been before. But that silly hindbrain of mine, where my gilled-ancestors' memories live, is fully convinced that it will get ALL THE FOOD and soon, so it just won't let me celebrate.

And I'm not craving these "ALL THE FOOD" foods, so that's not the struggle. It's not a physical desire to eat the bad stuff again. It's just a feeling of inevitability that I can't seem to shake, but I know I should, somehow.

The saying is that the docs can fix your tummy, but not your mind? That's so true. I still suffer from some pretty bad body dysmorphia (every time I pull on my smaller size of pants, I'm convinced they won't go up over my badonka-donk, and yet every time, they do). I still get head hunger from time-to-time (not often, thank goodness, but it does come in cycles, usually matched up with my, ahem, cycle). And I still get that inevitable feeling that I'll fail.

I'd like to say that the dysmorphia and the feeling of failure are getting better, but they're not. I don't know that they ever will. But I do know that my logical Vulcan mind has a whole hell of a lot of power over my day-to-day actions. I do know that I will succeed. I know this... even though those strange little voices ever whisper that I won't.

I'm not looking for a "help me!" moment, here. I'm not. Please don't. At most, I'd love to hear if anyone else feels this way too, so I don't feel alone. But you can't fix me; I'm not broken. I'm just trying to work through some emotions that are out-of-place with my inevitable success. And it will take a lot of time and self-awareness, I think. But I think, I hope, I know (?) I'll get there.