I know that a huge part of the reason that I fell off track six months ago was because I had worked so hard for so long, had reached a place that I'd originally seen as my goal, and was still terribly unhappy. I had constructed a subconscious fantasy of how things would be when I reached that point, and it wasn't even close. I'd spent so long finding joy only in the process of losing weight, I didn't know what to do when I lost that drive. I ran face first into a brick wall spray painted with, "WHAT'S THE GODDAMN POINT?!" And I had no answer.
I've been doing so well the last week or so, and yet I still have moments where I catch my brain falling into these destructive patterns.
"If I hadn't gained back 20 pounds, I'd be so much happier now. I'd already be at goal and everything would be better. If I was x weight, I'd have a new job already. If I was y pounds, I'd be more social. I wish I was thinner for this event. I hope I'm thinner for the next one. Then I'll have more fun."
SHUT THE FUCK UP, BRAIN.
My happiness, my success, my inner peace, has nothing to do with my size. The inside changes independently of the outside. I will be no happier 20, 30, 40 pounds lighter, unless that happiness comes from within. Things will not be easier, simpler, or better, but they will be different because I will be different.
I will be a beautiful goddamn butterfly. On the inside, where it counts.