At the start of last year I was a different person. To start with, I was about 30 kilos (66 pounds) lighter. I was a bit of a gym junky - I would work out 6 times a week. And I LOVED to take part in obstacle races.
Then I injured my left foot. I had plantar fasciitis. Don't know what that is? Read about it HERE. It's freaking painful. My foot was so painful that when my physio even applied the lightest of touches, I was in pain. As well as having a lot of therapy done on my foot, three times a day I rolled my foot over a frozen bottle of water. I strapped my foot - but had to stop doing that as I became allergic to the sticky stuff on the bandage. I was advised to stop exercising, and after six months of this, I ended up getting a corticosteroid injection. And that worked.
I eased back in to exercise.
My left foot was holding up well.
But, then I got plantar fasciitis in my right foot. Granted, not as severe. But, once again I eased up on exercise and got treatment for my foot. I didn't have to have an injection this time.
And because these things happen in three - I injured my shoulder. I was told not to do any more obstacle races.
Now, I should have mentioned that the reason I was so active was because I was doing a weightloss challenge - actually, I was doing several, one after the other. They were being run by one off the trainers from The Biggest Loser Australia.
So, to me, being told not to exercise was shattering to me. I've battled with my weight all my life. I was devastated. And petrified of putting the weight back on.
My depression got really really bad. I slipped back into old habits of thinking. The negative thoughts were back. With a vengeance. I called myself every name under the sun. I couldn't look at myself in the mirror. I was too ugly. Too fat. Too blah. Hideous was a word I used often.
And, to top it all off, all the clothes I had bought to fit my fab new body no longer fit. And that was a challenge for me. Because when I went to buy more clothes I was going up a size, each time.
Which, made me hate myself even more.
My new eating habits had long been forgotten.
And so the vicious cycle started again. And again. And again.
Recently, I've been going through a hard time. What? What I've just described wasn't a hard time? Well, it was, but things have come to a head.
I've come to a realisation that I can't keep going on like this. I have to make a choice. Continue the way I'm going. OR, do something about it.
I'm choosing to do something about it.
For the first time I admitted to my Doctor - I need help. And I admitted to my sister I need help. And I'm getting it. In the form of therapy. I haven't started it yet, and I'm apprehensive about it, but I'm looking forward to it.
I've also rejoined the gym - I know I won't be like I was before. Various injuries won't allow me to - and to be honest, I don't want to be like the way I was. I was obsessed with exercising. I would spend hours, six days a week at the gym.
That's way too much! And I still need time to do other things. Like write.
So, I'm going to go 3, maybe four times a week. And only for an hour each go.
I've got a great, easy and realistic eating plan to follow.
And I'm feeling good abut this.
Will keep you all posted on my progress.