I've gained thirty pounds. I had to write that sentence first because it's the scariest one to write and I'm in a rip-the-bandaid-off kinda mood. Hopefully, the rest of this post will be easier to write. OK, and now I'm crying.

Sooooo.....this ISN'T gonna be easy to write? Ok, never mind I'll just send this post to the trash...NO!

KEEP GOING, EE. KEEP WRITING.

*deep breath*

I stepped on the scale this morning for the first time in three months and honest to God, I TOTALLY thought the scale was broken. I was like: Maaatttt! What did you do to this scale??? It HAS to be wrong!

Matt: "Why are you getting on the scale? Did you WANT to have a bad day today?"

No. I just wanted to know the TRUTH.

And the truth is: my scale is not broken.

I mean, I kinda sorta suspected things were getting out of hand--I haven't been able to get into my jeans and have been wearing loose, flow-y skirts for like four months--I just didn't realize HOW out of control I'd gotten.

I stepped on the scale this morning because I finally hit a moment where I was like: I feel uncomfortable. Where did this belly come from and why is it in my way?

So, I got on the scale.

I've gained thirty pounds. 

I'm writing that again because CLEARLY I've been in a good bit of denial (#ElasticWaistedSkirts4Evah!!!!!!!) and CLEARLY I needed a reality check.

You guys. How is this possible? How is this even happening right now? THIRTY EFFING POUNDS?!

Just when I think I've Overcome All The Things and Survived All The Crap--well, THAT'S when I get to work on ANOTHER area of my life???? Seriously, universe??

I'm so BLESSED with ISSUES that now I get to examine my relationship with food?????

Awesome. Juuuussssstttttt awesome.

YOU MEAN I HAVEN'T ARRIVED???????

I would just like to state for the record that this is entirely UNFAIR.

Doesn't the Universe understand that I've SURVIVED enough crap? Doesn't the Universe want to hand me a size 2 body without my having to work for it????? It seems like just yesterday I was prancing around in my stinkin' cute little size 2 dress. Granted, I was also eating mindfully and exercising regularly.

And now, 10 months later, that dress is tucked way, WAAAYYYY in the back of closet and instead, I get to face the awesome truth that I haven't been exercising regularly and also? I've been eating. A lot.

More Truth: I'm an emotional eater.

This past year has had MORE than its fair share of emotions: writing a book, writing it again, writing it a THIRD TIME, editing a book, having my book published, my family entering the Catholic Church, adopting a rescue dog, figuring out my mental health issues and finding a medication and dosage that works for me...

SO YEAH. A lot of emotions. And apparently, a LOT of comfort food.

I am human. I can't handle all of that stress without SOME kind of comfort. This past year, I chose food.

This is the weird thing: I've never been happier. I'm content. I'm calm. I feel like I know my purpose in life. I'm working my recovery using the tools I've learned in therapy and my 12-step programs.

For the first time in my life, I'm not in horrible emotional pain every day. I'm stable.

So, why can't I be stable AND slender?

Why do I have to be happy AND chubby?

WHY CAN'T IT ALL BE PERFECT? WAAAHHHHHHHH.

Alright. I'm gonna stop whining now. Because. There ARE upsides. For one, cleavage. For two, chocolate. Can I get an amen?

But at some point--and I'm pretty sure THIRTY POUNDS is that point (dear God, please let this be my rock bottom and not FIFTY POUNDS)--I'm gonna need to get back with the program. I need to start exercising again--consistently. I need to be mindful about my eating--which means tracking it.

And I need to pay attention to the deeper issues, here. Because there are ALWAYS deeper issues. The truth is, even when I was at my skinniest, when I looked in the mirror, I saw a fat girl.

Yay, me. I have a NEW issue to work on. Food Sobriety, FTW.

Can you relate? Who wants to join me?? Or just throw some encouraging words at me!!