You can imagine where I've been for the better part of a year - eating this and that, screwing around with diet and exercise, suffering grief, being angry, making myself too busy to pay attention to my grief...you name it. Then I shaped up again, decided to be "regular" and go the controlled diet and exercise routine. I lost a little. I gained a little. I lost a little. I plateaued. Calorie counting wasn't working for me...so I spiraled right back into carbs-loading and half-assed caring about myself and my weight.
In the back of my mind, though, there is this image of my mother lying in her hospital bed, alone but for a single roommate, with no one to help her get up and go to the restroom. It is a life she accepted because she was defeated by her diseases. It is a life I yelled at her for living. I cried at her for giving up. I begged her not to die. She wouldn't do anything - couldn't do anything - to help herself. It was too late. I didn't believe it, but she did. She argued no...but she had to believe it to resign to the arguments of rehab workers refused to lift her out of bed - it took too many people, she was too heavy, required an electronic lift, yadda yadda. Every time I fought for her, she fought against me. Why?
Why couldn't she just fucking help herself?
At the time I was doing my "damndest" to live a better life - strictly low carb, seeing amazingly great results. I didn't get why she didn't just STOP hurting herself by not trying. When she died, I was torn up. I hated her. I hated me. I hated fat. I hated disease. I hated my family. I hated mom's friends. I still have a lot of anger I am working through because I miss her SO much and her death feels like a needless, wasteful, horrific tragedy....like murder or suicide.
I've been seeing the same counselor for my own weight loss issues. Like I said, I let go of everything I worked hard to achieve after my mom died. I regained 30 of 50 lost pounds. I have to start over. Again. I hate starting over again. I hate that I quit.
My counselor showed me this:
In this I see how I treated my mother. I see how some people probably look at me. I see how it's possible she could not help herself. I see how I HAVE to help myself before I suffer the same fate. I have to get back on the low carb wagon and ride it like there's no tomorrow. There may not be.
