Oooh my. This is a toughie.
I think this year I had the same project I’ve had every year for the past ten or so–lose weight. AndI really really REALLY sucked at it. That’s not to say I’m usually good at it, but if I can find zumba, or dance class, this combined with cooking keeps me fairly decent. But it has been a year of so much sadness, apathy, despair–I spent it eating comfort food, drinking copious amounts of whiskey, and needing a pep talk to toss back the sheet in the morning. I even think sometimes that I have given up–champa has won this war.
I was challenged by my own lack of motivation, some of which comes from mindfucks, some from laziness and some from the fact that I worked so damn hard to accept my body–I’ll be damned if I reject it now. But mostly, my big obstacle was my misery (I’m trying not to use the D word here), my loneliness and neediness, all of which just made me give up hope so comprehensively that I just did nothing–I was most positive when I was sunk in apathy.
I regret to say that I have not won against this challenge. I have reached a point where the very thought of going up against it has me whimpering in terror and sucking up potato chips through an IV. And I have learnt this year that no matter how much you want to do something, sometimes you just can’t. You can try all you want; you can seek every for of motivation that exists; you can psych yourself and other people can coax, nag, cajole, bribe, threaten to withhold sex–but sometimes you just can’t do anything about it.