Hate

Hate is such an ugly word.  It's dark and mean and unforgiving, like some scary abyss you can't claw your way out of.  The word "hate" has crossed my mind a lot lately.  My inner mean girl has been rearing her ugly head and I can't get rid of her.  I hate her.

I hate that she makes me hate myself.

I hate that I can't see past the "wrong" is see in myself and find what's "right".

I feel betrayed by my body and I hate it.

I should feel proud that I did 4 strength training workouts (increasing the weight each time) and ran 11 miles this week, but instead I hate that the scale is up 4 pounds after a weekend of bad eating (to my highest weight in probably 2 years) and my clothes are not getting any closer to fitting.

I hate that I could barely button my favorite pair of jeans on Sunday.

I hate even more that I'm walking around in clothes that don't fit and I know people are noticing.

Maybe I hate even more that I care what other people think.

I hate what I see in the mirror.

I hate that I feel powerless to change anything.  I'm trying to eat right. I'm exercising.  My sore muscles are proof that I'm doing something right.  But I just see failure.  I'm still gaining weight.  I'm not running as far or as fast as I was before (maybe because I'm so much heavier) and I hate that all my hard work has been flushed down the toilet.

I hate feeling this way.  I hate that I can't seem to pull myself out of this abyss.

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I need to start listening to Maya. I need to find the solution because the hate I feel is only making matters worse.