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I ate one-and-a-half pulled pork rolls for breakfast today. They were delicious. On Friday it was a beef schnitzel with pepper sauce which made me smile. A meat pie and croissant smothered in jam last week. A tub of chocolate ice-cream last night. Tonight I’m looking forward to a fruit crumble with custard.

I’m a failure.

I’m sad to be home. I miss holidaying. It’s cold. I’m bored. I’m struggling. And instead of going for a walk, I’m eating my feelings.

I’m scared.

I’m plunging back into old ways. I really thought I’d turned a corner. Looks like I did, right into a bakery full of meat pies and donuts.

Last week I took my new skates for a spin. They’re fast and high and I felt unsteady on my feet. Wobbly. I fell and my right boob took the impact. I bounced and then my right elbow took the rest of the impact. My arm aches, my shoulder aches. I feel old. I’m sore.

10300706_10152543155478013_6502600731770066738_nAnd here’s the best part. I can’t wait to get back on my skates. I want to feel steady again, take long strides and cruise the corners. I want to lose my fear of failure and instead take the falls with positivity. Every ground slam teaches me something about my skating. It means I’m pushing myself. But it’s easy to talk the talk and to be honest I’ve got the fear in me. It’ll be hard to shake.

Fear drives me. Fear also paralyses me. I’m stuck. I’m steadily going up in the scales. I’m shunning exercise. I’m comfort food eating. I’m filling my soul up with sabotage. I don’t know if I can find the strength to turn this around. Not right now.

Failure tastes too good at the moment. I’m wrapping myself in a rug of self loathing and I’m feeding my soul chocolate-coated toffee.  It’s keeping me safe and warm. At a cost.

I’ve got the wobbles big time. I need to pick myself up and keep going.

bigwords x

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