Something crazy happened this weekend. On Saturday morning I cried 3 times before 8AM.
The thing that makes this so unbelievable is that I haven’t cried in a really, really long time. Other than a few weeks ago when I read the photo essay of a dog’s last day before his owners took him to the park and had the vet meet them there with the needle of peace. Once in awhile I also get PMS tears. But these tears came from somewhere else entirely.
I was tired. I felt defeated and I just had enough.
Last week was tough. Internship days were LONG. Workouts started earlier than I ever even wanted to think about getting up. My butt got totally chapped from the spin bike, and my hand can’t grip a water glass. I dissolved in to a punch drunk mess in evening workouts on Wednesday and Friday – complete with doing round house kicks making sound effects like a little kid.
I feel more out of control than ever right now and I’m just hoping this is the point where everything comes together. Workouts are hard. I don’t see the changes in my body that other people do. Money is becoming more of an issue. My house is a mess and by the time I get home at night and eat dinner I have 30 min before I need to get my ass upstairs and in to bed. All so I can get up and do it all again.
I want this, I really do. I’m up for the sacrifice. But I think there’s a part of me that wonders if I’m going to fail and I’ve just set myself up for it to all fall apart. And then all these early mornings will be for nothing and I’ll just be a sleep deprived mess who goes off the road on her way home at night.
So yeah, I had that “Biggest Loser” moment of tears and frustration. But I sucked it up that day, and I sucked it up the next day, and I’ll keep sucking it up. I’ll keep doing what I’m doing. I’ll try and take back a little more control over my diet. I at least got to vacuum my bedroom today and hopefully I sucked up whatever mystery bugs have been biting us in our sleep.