I hit the heavy bag like crazy today. I’ve worked out more this year than the past 6. I feel like it’s pointless. Like no matter how much I work out I won’t loose anything or tighten anything up, I feel like nothing can make me more beautiful. As if I’m a hopeless situation, as if no one could love me or my body. But I also know somewhere deep down that one work out is better than none, one less chocolate bar is better than nothing.
But it is fun to get the stress out and I do feel like a beast for a moment.
Someone someday is going to love me like I’m worth loving, but for now I need to be me and focus on me.
It’s a constant battle lately fighting stress and this panic feeling on the inside of me. I often just want to stop, drop, and assume fetal position and cry. But I can’t. I have to keep going. I have more control of my life than I’ve ever had, but at the same time I feel as if I have no control whatsoever. I feel like my life is out of control, my circumstances are, my emotions are…I hate it.
I do have