The first few weeks were great…
I felt good.
The weight was starting to come off.
And I could at least fit fit into a pair of jeans
It wasn’t until about the 4th week where
I woke really tired in the morning with sore tendons and joints.
My shoulders started to hurt more as I was carrying my baby Rubi around.
By the mid afternoon I was tired, slumped and I wanted to nap.
Because I had wife and mother duties, I couldn’t
And so the only comfort I found was getting my mid afternoon sugar fix in to deal with the tiredness.
One thing led to another and by the end of the day I had gone through a packet of chips, 3 chocolate bars and half a tub of ice cream.
I was satisfied but I knew there were going to be consequences.
The next morning I felt like crap waking up bathed in guilt.
My stomach was hurting from indigestion and then the voices in the head begun
“Okay, I’m starting my diet today…. No more eating junk food”
I knew that I’d have to skip breakfast to make up for all the calories I ate last night and so I starved myself today to make up for lost time.
But that didn’t work.
I just got caught up in a viscous pattern
I would start Monday and last until Wednesday fizzle by Thursday and then feel crappy that I didn't follow through yet again.
This pattern just kept going on cycling through every 6 to 8 weeks.
It wasn’t until my eldest daughter was 2 where we were shopping at a mall.
She wanted me to carry her as he was getting tired and so as I went to pick her up,
I started to black out.
The feeling was surreal
Nothing in that moment mattered.
I could feel myself fainting.
She asked if I was okay, and it took about 5 minutes of me sitting down with her until I could recover.
What just happened? How did I nearly just pass out?
It was in that moment that I decided enough was enough.
I was so angry with myself.
I was so upset with who I was. I wasn’t showing up for myself. I wasn’t getting my workouts in,