If you’ve ever been to a Narcotics Anonymous meeting, then you know how everyone begins when it’s their turn to speak. “Hi I’m Pete, and I’m an addict.” It’s not because they’re in active addiction, but because it’s a constant reminder that they can overcome the disease of addiction. They are an individual fighting a battle daily. Some days are harder than others. Unfortunately, some days the disease wins. But, the doors to those rooms are always open to anyone seeking a better way to live and willing to put in the work. Open mindedness and willingness are key.
Stick with me here. I’m not addicted to drugs, but I do suffer from the disease of addiction. I have a very addictive personality, and if you’ve read my previous posts, you may have a little understanding of where this is going. One of my biggest addictions is food. I eat to survive, yes, but also to find comfort, to celebrate, to fight off boredom, to combat stress….you get the picture.
In 2025, I decided to face that addiction head on. My weight had gotten out of control and I had to do something about it. I downloaded My Fitness Pal and started tracking my food. I swapped foods for healthier options. I bought egg whites and keto-friendly bread, PB2 and cottage cheese, Greek yogurt and Diet Dr. Pepper. I started the year at 278 lbs and ended it at 228. Fifty pounds gone, and I was feeling damn good about myself.
By February 18th this year, I was down to 220. My jeans were three sizes smaller. People were telling me that they could notice the change in me not just physically but mentally and emotionally as well. And then it happened. Slowly at first. I became complacent. I stopped tracking everything I ate. I gave in to temptation and told myself, “one won’t hurt.” But as my friends in NA will tell you, one is too many and a thousand is never enough.
My relapse cost me six months of my life and twelve pounds. The scale said 232 this morning 😭. I could tell you that I’ve been struggling with my mental health. I could list all the things that have kept me stressed out and emotionally drained. I could recount each twist and turn of events that’s unfolded this year. None of it matters though. I stopped doing what I needed to do, and now I suffer the consequences of my actions. Six months. Even at a slower pace of losing only one pound a week, I could be under 200 by now…in Onederland as the weight loss community has affectionately called it. Instead I’m kicking myself for the 12 pounds I now need to lose AGAIN. I feel defeated. Worse than that, I feel ashamed. I was cruising right along, and then I fell right off the wagon, hit a wall, knocked the train right off the tracks. It’s my fault, my responsibility, and my failure to own.
I don’t mean to sound all “woe is me.” I know it’s just a setback, not the end of the world. This one really hurts. I’m sure there’s been more than one “I knew it wouldn’t last” comments among those who delight in other people’s missteps. I know for a fact that there are people waiting for me to fail and laughing at what they’ve no doubt deemed as inevitable. Well the joke’s on them, cuz I may be down, but I’m not out. I was built tough.
Tonight my daughter asked me if I’d started eating better again. She said she noticed it in my arms. I laughed, thanked her, and then told her I was going to write this blog. I’m not giving up on myself. I’m disappointed, disgusted honestly, but I’m trying to show myself the same grace I’d show to someone picking up the white key tag again. IYKYK.
I never claimed to be perfect. I absolutely am not. So this is the part where I get back on track and remember what I am capable of achieving. As Dory would say, “just keep swimming!” Here we go again.
As always, if you made it through my ramblings, know that I am grateful. I appreciate you. I wish you all the best. 🥂Here’s to another chance for all of us!
Confessions of a Forty Year Old Nobody 