… and not in the good way. (Yes, I had to, sorry, not sorry.)
Well you might remember my post about excuses and my realization that I’m making them. I still do and more than ever, I think. I have completely dropped off the horse. And I am not actually giving myself reasons, so am I really making excuses? In any way… I have not put anything in my food diary. I have given a damn how much I eat and what and that’s awful. Have I given up?
I hope not, because I have a long way to go and I can’t just give up. I have always been a fighter and I still am. So why does it feel so tempting to just not give a f…fudgesickle? Maybe because it’s easier than to restrain myself and work for it?
Could anyone please move to Berlin and drag myself out on the streets for at least 15 minutes a day so I can at least complain about hurting muscles as a reason not to go out? I have to do something, but I just can’t be arsed. Depression makes it harder and this is not an excuse, it’s actually a fact. I’m having a hard time, but try to ignore it. Just doesn’t make things easier.
I have to give a damn. I have to get back up. I feel the mountain is too big to climb, maybe I’ll start with the first alpine hut instead of the mountain top. No too far… maybe the door of the flat for starters. Then the end of the hallway. Then to the staircase… babysteps. Maybe that’s less overwhelming and scary.