I don’t feel well today. Truthfully, I feel like crap. Last evening I started to hurt. My lower back and hip were not happy. Then, my ankles, wrists, and elbows began to ache.
I did walk my short walk at 5 am. I didn’t do my arm workout, and I just wanted to go home. I still hurt. The hurting isn’t the worst thing; it is hurting when the exhaustion hits. And I am barely functioning. When I am in this state, and I am actually more often than I will admit, staying on track is a mental battle of epic proportions.
When I hurt, I want comfort. Today, that comfort is in the form of a Cinnaholic Samoa bun with extra frosting. I have almost ordered one–three times today. Instead, I ate a Yasso, frozen greek yogurt bar.
I try and be positive in my posts, but I promised myself that my blog will be honest. I am not feeling optimistic. I hurt and am crabby. I want to scream and cry that it isn’t fair that just as I start working to better health, my auto-immune issues worsen. But screaming and crying won’t help me. Living in a pity party isn’t helpful.
The mental game of changing your lifestyle is hard. Altering over 50 years of poor conditioning is not just eating less and doing more. It is battle years of coping mechanisms.
Love, patience, and consistency–I keep saying this to myself today. My body is damaged and ill. I need to ride through this downturn and not give in to the Cinnaholic.