One of my good friends has recently lost a serious amount of weight in a matter of a month or two on some gimmicky diet. It sounds similiar to meal replacement (i.e. Slimfast). Instead of being properly happy for her and supportive, a cruel, unfamiliar D surfaces to be spiteful. Jealous. Dismissive.
Somehow through everything, and I mean every FUCKING thing, I remain sunny. Positive. I approach each day like a new beginning. And to see myself respond this way is saddening and oh so desparate.
How large a role do my individual chemical nuances play/prey upon me? I've watched certain medications outright up my ante. But I take it now to be certain and true that they affect my ability to lose weight.
I haven't had the best habits. Thus, after 10 years of medication, I'm now 60 pounds from where I should probably be. I'm legitimately trying, and properly this time. I'm being mindful of intake as well as integrating exercise. It's benefitting but nothing's really changing.
And I'm frightened. I'm frightened too. To try harder. To completely alter my habits. I always have been. Because then what? I know what. Mania. Making better decisions for myself leads to a tip of the scale in a happier direction. A too happy direction. A euphoric direction. A hallucinogenic direction. An inpatient direction.
But guess what? I LOSE WEIGHT THEN.