It’s a marathon….

Writing this post because Instagram for me, is personal place to document realistic family life. Shall we go through the door and see who lives in a place like this? Well, on the floor to the left are various bags of recycling, that need taking out and processing at the dump. On the right there's the hob which is still hot as someone has decided to cook tomorrow's shepherd's pie at midnight so she's not interrupted by her children or a dog hovering with intent tomorrow morning. Out of sight on the the right is the dishwasher running for the third time today – yes, the third time. What's next? Yes, the tumble drier is going, as is the washing machine. They feel hot to the touch as they've been in service all day – house owners went away last week and as mother works just like the father does, there's no housekeeper to magically get everything to the washer, dry it and then put it away. To the left of the clothes airer is the children's books and bags and coats arena. This has been overhauled today as well – out with the cute bags with names on and in with Man Utd football boot bags and cool rucksacks. The airer is in constant use of course, for anything that isn't in the tumble drier. And finally, beyond us, into the darkness is a dining room which needs frames putting on the wall and this evenings dinner detritus putting away. So, who lives in a house like this? << I know that my life is blessed. I have a fabulous life. I just wish I weren't experiencing so much of it all at once and past midnight on the weekend!!! >> #parenting #reallife #raisingboys #hormones #epig #energy #householdmanagement #householdmanager

A photo posted by Liz Weston (@westoncomms) on Jan 9, 2016 at 3:59pm PST

Good grief, how many different things does that apply to? SO MANY. ALL OF THEM.

I am struggling to keep up right now. I take a bit comfort from the fact that everyone else seems to be as well.
Right now, I have several weeks worth of socks, pants and clothes to put away. I have a lot of admin and house jobs that need processing.

But I just can’t face it. Several nights of broken and very little sleep has left me feeling drained and frankly, not full of festive cheer.
It’s hard to articulate the who, where, how and why of it, but I just ain’t feeling it. However, the one thing I am feeling, all the blooming time, is cold.

I’m cold. Sooooo cold. I’m cold because I’m losing weight. Bit by bit. And despite two weeks of staying the same weight, I’ve been walking and I feel relatively good about where I’m at. The upcoming break presents several options to me:
1. I take my part in eating my fair share of sweets and treats and continue with my dog walking and being active.
2. I eat everything in sight.
3. I continue to eat well and work on this as part of the marathon challenge that this is.

I don’t know. I’m tired and confused. I know this won’t make sense, but I think I will press publish anyway, because I hope that I’m going to look back on this in the longer term and recognise this as a low point. That the loneliness, the coldness, the hunger and confusion and feeling like shizzle, was the price to pay for eating my way through the last few years. The price to pay for extra potatoes with Sunday lunch. I need to know that I’ll be able to recognise this as being a low point, to believe that my body will feel better soon. That this is going to be worth it. Because right now it really hurts, inside and out.