Saturday, August 27, 2016


I thought I was doing really well. I've got my eating under control. Still taking my thyroid meds. I even saw improvement in my morning body temperature for a solid week, which I thought meant better metabolism.

But now I'm back to low body temps, and still accomplishing nothing when I try to run. My right foot hurts every damn morning, reminding me it will probably never be the same after April's stress fracture.

Then I go reading stuff like this to help me figure out why I never improve at running, and it's so overwhelming because pretty much everything on that damn page applies and I don't know what to fix first.

And then I listen to podcasts like this one about hypothyroidism and hear that I shouldn't be exercising at all. WTF? How am I supposed to believe this after a lifetime of hearing diet and exercise is the path to health? My identity for quite some time has been bundled with hard core fitness routines, how am I supposed to just stop?

Maybe I should just care a little less. People are sometimes surprised by what they can achieve when they stop trying so hard. But not caring is not easy for me to do, either. I've always been taught to work for what I want.

How is it that I can be so disabled inside? It doesn't seem fair that I'm otherwise a productive, functioning member of society, but will never be able to have this one thing I want.


I thought maybe I'd be getting closer once I beat my eating disorder, but no. Not binge eating isn't enough.

It's not enough.

I'm not enough.

Will I ever be enough?

For every step forward I take, it seems I always find a way to go two steps back.

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