Putting My Money Where My Mouth Is

Talking with my wife last night I came to the realization that I have been talking a good game.  I am the heaviest I have ever been.  I have little to no motivation to do anything that is not sedentary.  Ugh.  What a gut check.  I have to do something about this.  I need to figure out how to put my money where my mouth is.  I forced myself to admit that I hate the guy looking back at me in the mirror.  I don't recognize me.  I'm fat, I'm lazy, I'm the guy that finds an excuse for everything - all of the things I find repulsive.

So what to I do about it?  How?  It's amazing how eroded self-confidence can destroy a person.  I used to be confident that my body would be able to handle whatever was thrown at it.  Then I end up in the hospital, allergies out of control.  I realized that I felt betrayed...by my own body.  The allergies played right into my PTSD.  Because I am allergic to every damn thing in the air I breathe outdoors, I now view going outside as subjecting myself to a life-threatening environment.  Even leaving the apartment has become close to impossible unless it is absolutely necessary.

You know what the worst part is?  I am completely aware of the train wreck I have become.  I saw it all happening and felt powerless to do anything about it.  I have, once again, come full circle.  My PTSD is again dictating how I live my life.  Yup.  Definitely a gut check.  I hate feeling helpless, powerless.  Yet, here I sit, on my duff while my wife takes my daughter for a walk.  Time to put my money where my mouth is.  Time to stop talking about making changes, time to start doing.  My wife and I purchased a bike seat for my daughter because my wife knows how pointless I find walking.  The problem is that we don't have room to store the bikes where we live.  Gah!  Are you fucking kidding me?  I'm already trying to talk myself out of it.  I have got to sign off.