Wednesday, January 09, 2013
It was 2009 and I was at the end of a two-year relationship and weighed over 245 pounds. I was completely out of shape and in clinical depression. I put everything I had into finding myself and by the summer of 2011 I had lost 70 pounds. It was becoming a struggle to lose more and reach my goal, but I wasn’t giving up. Then I injured my back and shortly thereafter had carpal tunnel surgery. I was out of commission for four months and gained back some of the weight I lost. Again, I struggled and by the summer of 2012 I was within five pounds of the weight I was the year before.
And then something happened. All I could see was another holiday season without “a special someone”. The depression came back and it typical addict-style, I fell back into my destructive ways. After all, did it really matter? Fat or thin, it was obvious that nobody wanted me. I began over-eating and finding excuses to avoid the gym. Oh, occasionally I would find my way back there, but not my regular routine.
The next thing I knew, it was another dateless New Year’s Eve and I had gained 15 pounds since November. So then I really hated myself. I felt horrible and my clothes didn’t fit, making me even more depressed than ever. I was in a full out-of-control spiral.
Then I looked at myself in the mirror and said “hold on, Rose. You didn’t start all this for anybody but yourself, so why are you now looking for someone to justify it? Yes, it is horrible being alone. Sure, you haven’t had a date in over 3 years, but why are you destroying yourself over it?” I know I certainly didn’t want to go back to where I started and at the rate I was going, I would be there in no time. All the effort that I had put into becoming a better me would be gone and I would have to start over from scratch. Or, worse yet, just continue until I was so overweight that my own legs could no longer support me.
So, I said enough. It doesn’t matter that there is no guy out there that I matter to, I matter to ME. I know what I need to do; I’ve done it before. It’s time to put on my big girl pants and get moving. It’s my choice to either let depression consume me or take control of my own life. I’m choosing the latter.