I seem to have lost myself. And my will. And my motivation. And I can’t seem to find any of them.
I think back to last summer. Training for the NYC marathon. Running almost every day, even in the heat. 50 pounds lighter than I am now (the shame). Happier kids. Happier life. Happier marriage. I sit here and I wonder…what the fuck happened?
When I think about it, I tend to place the blame on other people and situations. This person came into my life. This person left. Work became harder. A third baby was added. Time and money were short, as were tempers and understanding. All of this things can take the blame for my unhappiness, the lack of motivation, the weigh gain, the drinking gain, the indiscretions.
And none of that blame is actually working to fix the problem. It’s making me a victim. And I hate being the victim.
Maybe, instead of placing the blame and over analyzing the past year I can suck it up and move on. Who cares how I got to this place? Does it really even matter? The point is, I’m here. And I need to find my way out. I know no one can do this for me. I have to find my way on my own. But it’s HARD.
I can say, things seem to be headed in the right direction and my support system, though smaller by a few people, is incredibly mighty. I’m learning to ask for help. I’m learning to accept help when it’s offered. Homelife is becoming more concrete, and sound, and loving.
And now to work on the rest.
I’m not used to baby steps. I’m not used to slow progress. I’m not patient person. When I want something, I want it now. But with that, my life seems to be a bunch of random “One step forward, two steps back” mishaps. So maybe now, I go slow. Take each day and change at a snails pace. Work to strengthen everything instead of just fixing is for a minute.
Maybe going slow isn’t so bad. Maybe it’s just what need to find where I’m hiding.