One of those "Facebook Memories" popped up for me today from about 11 years ago, and although it's a horrible picture of me, it was good to have a reminder of where I was back then, and how far I've come.
I imagine most people reading this haven't actually known me for 10 years, so they don't understand just how long I've been fighting this battle for. Hell, I've known myself for 34 years, and I I still forget this exact timeline. So, I'm writing this for myself as much as anyone else. The abridged version:
I used to weigh over 300 pounds.
In 2006, I got diagnosed with sleep apnea, and over the course of 2006 and 2007, with my sleep apnea being treated, I had a wealth of newfound energy, so I started to focus on losing weight. I got down to around the 230's.
Afterwards, for a variety of reasons, I fell of the wagon, hard, and ended up back in the 300's.
This time, my doctor suggested weight loss surgery, but I decided to just double down on exercise and calorie counting. Over the course of 2009 through 2011, I got down to around 205.
I wish this was where the story ends. It isn't.
I managed to get back up to around 255, hitting my highest in mid-2013. In case there was any doubt: weight loss is hard, y'all.
So that brings us to today.
If you've been reading my blog, you know what that means. I'm back down to around 220, which isn't my lowest, but also is still quite a bit of distance from my highest. I do think I'm likely in better physical shape than I've ever been, even if my weight doesn't entirely reflect that.
Creating this post was simultaneously an act of bravado (look how far I've come! I'm super good at life!), while also incredibly humbling (look how much I stumbled over the last 10 years! I'm super bad at life!). Yes, it's a reminder of how easy it is to give up and stop caring about yourself - which I've done twice now - but also a reminder that it's never too late to buckle down and try again.
Perhaps now some of you will understand why I will always stop to log calories, and will continue to wake up stupid-early and make sure I don't miss a workout. It's easy to pretend that I've reached a level of discipline where I don't have to worry about falling off the wagon again, but I know from experience how fragile all of this is. I'm a bad month or two away from ruining years of hard work, and I will not let that happen again.
The third time is the fucking charm.