Another year, another step

 Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday dear Karen, happy birthday to me!

It's been a long time since I've written anything ... I just reread my last entry.  Things have changed since then, just not as dramatically as I hoped.

I'm working with a coach now.  His name is Andrew and he's helping me get my mind unfucked and get in shape.  Not an easy task at all, but one he seems uniquely able to do.  He's far from sunshine and lollypops.  No smoke blown up your ass.  He manages to deliver cold hard truths in a manner that doesn't leave a gaping hole in every fiber of your being.  He's teaching me to embrace the suck and keep moving forward through this process.  Embracing the suck ... so hard yet so vital, because it really does suck.  He's also the most intense cheerleader you could ever find and that keeps me motivated.  He makes me think.  He makes me work on the mental part way more than I want to, because he knows I need it.

As always a birthday is a day to reflect.  I look at past pictures and feel a range of emotions.  Like how 6 years ago I was a fat size that I'd love to be now.  Still fat, just not *as* fat.  Pictures were taken of me yesterday, playing with my grandson, and my heart snapped in half when I saw how big I look.  Past times would send me into a eating binge, thinking what the fuck, I can't change, but not this time.

Every year I say the same thing - this year will be different! XX year is my year!  I'm going to crush it!  This year will be different.  I'm putting the work in and not just wishing it would happen.  It's going to fly by no matter what ... seems like all the years do any more.  I want to look at those pictures from yesterday and say "holy shit, look how far I've come!  Can't believe that was me!"

I'm fortunate I have great support.  I have a group of people I can reach out to when I'm having an I don't want to day that will say "just get your ass in the gym and do it!"  Many times for me that's all I need, someone to say GO.  Actually what it takes is me admitting I need help.  I suck at that.  I'm more likely to hide with my secrets and suffer in silence.

So here's to my 52nd year... it's going to be what I make it ... so it will be one of progress!