Hitting Bottom. Again.

I was just looking back at my interview with Dave the Raw Food Trucker six weeks after his stroke. I had taken off about 130 lbs at that point. I looked a lot better and I felt soooo much better. It is hard to look at now. I am an addict. Relapse is part of the deal. I know this. Yet every time I climb up that steep mountain, I tell myself, "This time will be different. This time I will not slip." And so I am surprised when I find myself in a jumbled heap at the bottom again. I have to get up but it seems so hard and I am so defeated and just so very angry I can't see straight. Really? This again? Yes. This. Again. I've made some half-assed attempts and some very sincere ones to get up again. But here I am. I sit here regretting every smug platitude I ever told anyone; any advice or moment when I felt sure I had conquered this thing. I truly have feet of clay. I know only one thing: I know nothing. And yet. I can't just lay here and wait to die of my disease of food addiction. I refuse to let this be the end of my story. I look back at this sadly neglected blog and I find a pretty good road map back to myself. As I tumbled back down the mountain, I left a good trail. I can follow it. I can get back there. Find my North Star, tap into the power of the made up mind, make my home a safe zone, set myself up for success, prepare, prepare, prepare and do. And pray. Because I am never giving up. Never.