The Irrationality of Discouragement

I started keto in earnest eight days ago, and it’s going very well! Well, it was going well, until today. I’ve been stepping on the scale every other day or so and seeing remarkable things. Down 1 pound! Down 1.5 pounds! Down 3 fucking pounds! How does that happen?!

But then today I got on the scale and it bounced from 346.8 to 348.4. In one day. In one day that I consumed 1700 calories. The human body makes no fucking sense.

I tried to fight off the disappointment. “It’s fine!” I told myself. “Weight fluctuates! It’s part of the process! It’s natural, blah blahblahwhatever.” But the disappointment stuck with me.

And then, at the lake today my roommate took a video of me and my dog in the water, and guess what I saw when I watched it! I looked exactly the same. What the fuck, body! You’re slightly smaller, and you don’t look like a runway model. That’s some bullshit!

I guess part of the process that I really, really (really really really) need to focus on is managing my expectations. It’s been a fucking week and I’m already defeated, wanting to give up that I don’t look like the “after” photo of a diet pill commercial. I’m realizing that this is the mental part of a healthy lifestyle. Yes, stuffing meat and cheese into my face, counting macros, making good choices and resisting temptation is the actual physical steps of being successful on keto, but the real work is in not fucking giving up. 

I think I realized something: I’m so terribly afraid of failing that this, right here, this minor setback is the point where I start to falter and typically fail, because this is the point where I have to decide if I’d rather give up and think to myself: If you tried, you could have succeeded and your life could be better if you really apply yourself, or do I stick with it and risk the possibility that I’m not good enough? Maybe I put forth my best effort, I try really hard, I commit myself fully for months, and I’m just inadequate.

I’ve been fat since I was a very little kid. There’s this small part of me (it’s the only small part of me) that wonders if I am actually capable of being a healthy weight. I have been over 300 pounds since I was about 12, maybe 13. I’m excited to see progress, but it scares me because it’s so insanely easy to gain weight, but so unbelievably easy to lose it.

Rant over. I’m going to stick with it, I’m going to reach out for help and keep researching and trying and succeeding and occasionally fucking up until I make serious progress. But sometimes it’s just really fucking hard.