I felt so down at the start of the week, and although I managed to push through and function vaguely like a normal person by the weekend, deep down I haven't managed to properly shake how awful I felt last Tuesday. With that in mind, though, it's been a weird week: the sort of week that puts life into perspective, and really shows that no matter how terrible I feel I know that it could be so, so much worse. I've become hyper-aware of mortality in a way I never have been before, and in some respects it makes all of my insecurities about my weight pale in significance.
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As such, it's a short post today. I'm not myself at all; the scales and my perceived lack of progress is stressing me out more than I feel comfortable admitting; and I still have long moments when I'm just horribly sad and can't understand why. However, life is so short, and I don't think dwelling on what are essentially trivial matters is really the most effective use of my time.
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I'm going to sort myself out, and I think I'm more aware than normal at the moment that this is going to take a while. After all, this is a marathon and not a sprint.
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