I have stayed true to my vow to exercise each morning before taking Robby to school. I don't love sweating, nor do I particularly enjoy mornings. The fact that both have merged in my life is an unexpected irony. I have discovered that my early morning "lounging" time is the easiest to swap out in my schedule and, while I don't eagerly put down my coffee to start working out, I do feel accomplished when I am done.
In the month of September I have lost 11 pounds. I still have a long way to go but I'm trying to remain upbeat. At least I'm not as heavy as I was on Labor Day! I realize that 11 pounds is not an impressive feat, but I am feeling better and healthier already. My leg is fitting more comfortably, and I've noticed that my limb isn't nearly as sore at the end of the day. (It never ceases to amaze me how weight fluctuations have such an impact on my prosthetic comfort.)
It turns out that working out and watching what I'm eating is not the most difficult part of this venture. Instead, I find myself struggling with feelings in inadequacy and self- hate. I am disgusted that I have allowed myself to gain so much weight. How did the pounds pile on without my knowing? Ugh. Every time I think about it I want to bang my head into a wall or hide my face in shame.
Pre-occupied with caring for Timmy and worried about his health issues, I've allowed my self-care to be neglected. While I know the reasons behind the pounds, the fact that I am again in this situation frustrates me to no end. Forgiving myself has turned out to be the most difficult obstacle on my healthy journey, but I am not going to allow myself to be deterred from my goal.