The post I don't want to write

Several years ago I decided I was TIRED.
Tired of feeling bad about myself.
Tired of letting my appearance -- which I didn't like -- affect choices I made in my life.
Tired of always choosing foods that would make me feel the happiest in the moment but was a bad decision in the long run. (Fettucine alfredo? Sure, I know it's often the highest-cal item on a restaurant's menu, but I'll have that and the bread that comes with it, too, please!)
But most of all I was tired of feeling powerless to change.
I decided I WOULD change.  I would NOT make excuses, have regrets, and berate myself for goals unachieved over the course of my life.
Above and beyond losing weight, I wanted to shift my outlook to a happier one, and prove to myself that if I wanted change -- in anything-- I would get it if I worked hard enough.
Sometimes the change didn't look like what I envisioned, but it was still different from where I started.
Focus on the lessons learned, the opportunities at hand, and the wonderful tiny and tremendous things about life.

I did.  Less and less I judged myself and others.  I took setbacks in stride.  I found more joy in everything.

I still do... for the most part.  Somewhere along the way, this joooourney I've been on with my weight has made me weary.  We could go round and round with why's and how's but really, that doesn't matter.  What's done is done and my weight today reflects my past, both good and bad.
Now, in the grand scheme of things, this struggle of mine to make good food choices is not huge.
But my lack of control affects how I feel about myself and that affects everyone around me. 
Not always in big ways (or even much at all) but in ways that I can feel -- and I don't like it.

I'm tired again.

So it's time for change... again.

If you must know, I last left you in my joooourney (I put this word in italics because the word is SO cheesy yet so accurately describes the situation -- thus its continued use) with 70 pounds being the most I'd lost.
My weight at that point was difficult for me to maintain.  I'm more of a sandwich-instead-of-salad-for-lunch-at-a-restaurant type of eater.  I wasn't ready to fully commit to the changes necessary for that maintenance.
But my weight at 50-55 down?  That I could do.  I've always been thicker (muscular legs and a large chest adds to this) than most of my friends and thought I carried it decently.
Now after having baby #3 and the changes in my daily life that came with her, my weight has crept up a bit to an uncomfortable zone for me. (About half way to my highest, so roughly 35 pounds from my lowest.)

I'm back to my joooourney and I want to share it.  
In truth, I will always struggle with food.  We all have things we struggle with sometimes -- and this is my thing.  And I need to remember that that's okay.  I tell BigBoy that all the time with his classwork -- "There's no shame in it being difficult; the problem is when you give up."

So yes, it's difficult and no, I'm not giving up.

Funny, after writing all this I don't feel so tired anymore.  Maybe all that guilt I was carrying was too damn heavy!