It’s me. I gym.

It’s been an adjustment, but the kind of adjustment that is manageable and welcome.

Seven months. I had to stay off for a month due to having pneumonia and a nasty sinus infection a few months ago and last week was an absolute nightmare, but I’m back. I didn’t give us like my depression and overwhelming anxiety told me to.

Blessed be the coffee bean, my friends

I feel great. The workouts are tough (I signed up for a professional trainer) but they aren’t hurting me or making me want to quit. I did my measurements a few months ago. Maybe it’s time for a check in and see if I made progress.

I most definitely gained weight when my brother passed. The last thing on my mind was to watch what I ate. Not that it helped. At all. It was an emotional response.

Last week when I was going through a really bad depression, I went off the rails completely. I didn’t binge: I just ate poorly. I definitely felt it this morning doing squats. Yikes. Even more of a reason to press onward!

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