I couldn’t sleep last night, so I spent most of the night listening to my husband’s soft breathing beside me, watching shadows shift slowly on the bedroom walls, and thinking. A lot.
Maybe it was actually a blessing in disguise, because instead of getting frustrated that I couldn’t sleep, I decided to go with it. Think. Pick up that thread. Pull on it. Keep following it. And when the train of thoughts got uncomfortable, I pushed on, let it sting, and then simply asked: “So what now?”
I won’t bore you with too many details of my late-night pondering. Hours of sleep-deprived imaginings are not exactly coherent, anyway. In a nutshell, I just got to thinking about how I am back to playing games with myself, doing a half-hearted workout to say I did one, snacking and not logging it in my food diary, convincing myself I will do better tomorrow, and how all of that is inevitably going to add up to being right back where I started.
The very thought of that made me feel like someone was stepping on my chest. Hell, no! I worked so hard to lose this weight, to get stronger, to run again, to be proud of myself. Why am I so hell-bent on shitting on all of that and ruining all of my hard work and progress?
I woke up today, after finally dozing off, with one thought: I am going to succeed today. It’s non-negotiable. I owe it to myself. Get back on track, finish this journey strong, find new goals to focus on and surpass.
I don’t want to regain any more weight or slowly slide back into unhealthy habits that leave me discouraged and unhappy. I have wasted enough time in that dismal head space over the years, and I don’t want to go back.
I don’t know why last night’s insomnia-induced musings finally opened my eyes, but it is worth the fatigue I am slogging through today. I just keep repeating to myself, “I am going to succeed today.” And I will. And tomorrow too, and the day after that.
I owe it to myself, and no one can do this for me, so time to get back to work.


