On the surface, I had a most wonderful weekend. Had some friends over for movie and makan on Friday night. On Sunday, played tennis, baked my chocolate walnut cake, and had a wonderful pho dinner at TPS' place. Her mom is a great cook, and the brownies were just as delicious.
On the surface.
Actually, this weekend, I kind of fell off the wagon. There were alot of snacks left over from movie night on Friday, and I sort of snapped. I ate, and I ate, and I ate. I drank soft drinks, finished up the Hello Panda, and most of the other snacks. Then I started ravaging the kitchen, and ate excessively for all the meals this weekend. It was a relapse...
With that came the guilt. And the sheer impact of the guilt depressed me deeply. And I went back to my uni habits, eating even more to drive away the depression, the vicious cycle returning again. Knowing you are slipping sucks. The mood disappears, the optimism fades, the hope for a better age, disintegrates.
Everyday of my life, I am fighting my natural mode of being. I love to eat; but I restrict. I hate to exercise; but I drag my sorry carcass to the gym. I have no passion for my work; I dig deep to produce quality constantly.
The answer is clear: Acceptance. But I'm not ready. I refuse to believe that this is "As Good As It Gets" and accept my lot in life. And it's this inner burst of energy that drives me to do the things I do. And it was missing this weekend.
The momentary weakness has passed. On to a brighter week ahead!
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