Call me superstitious if you will but I had a “come to universe” moment recently. I’ve struggled with binge eating ever since high school and have bike pumped myself up to 270lbs at 5’7”. Things in my life haven’t been going that great since covid first hit and it’s changed my life in many ways. To treat myself because things were starting to look up, I planned a solo trip to Hawaii to stay with family, hadn’t seen my mother in ages. I booked the tickets back in February, started to focus on my mental health and relationship with food but still wasn’t getting much farther with changing and losing much weight. Fast forward to Aug 8th and I’m on the plane with a connection flight in San Francisco. I sit down and start to pray, meditate, wish, all of the above for something life changing to reveal itself to me so I can get my life on track. I’m so fed up with myself and everything I’ve done to ruin my body that I began to wish on a star like a child for something to change me, anything…
Oh I got what I wished for alright.
While boarding the plane in San Fran my suitcase wasn’t fitting in the overhead compartment so I stuck my leg out into the aisle to try and tug it out to move it and BOOM… I tore my ACL…
It was an absolutely terrible next 72 hours. They had to call 911 to take me off the plane in front of everybody and they mama which was so incredibly embarrassing. I’m crying silently to myself with a smile on my face as people were recording me being taken from the airplane and put in an ambulance on the tarmac. I go to ER where I’m stuck with no answers other than “your X-rays look good but you need an MRI because we are thinking you tore your ACL”. Have to spend the night in a city I don’t know and fly back home the next day without even reaching my destination. Being on crutches at my weight has already proven to show some gains in my arm strength as I no longer have soar muscles from holding myself up! Today I officially got the results of my MRI with a complete tear of my ACL I am due for surgery Aug 31st… 4-5 weeks until I can walk short distances. 7-9 months before I’m allowed to go back to the gym normally…
I asked for a sign and boy did I get it. The next 12 months of my life are going to be packed with physical therapy, mental health therapy, and controlled eating habits since I can’t actually go eat out if I can’t drive haha.
Don’t get me wrong I’ve cried a lot from all this BS but believe me when I say that this may very well be the journey that gets me to get my shit together.
Here’s to healing and recovery. I thank this sub for the inspiration! Cheers lads!
[link] [comments]
source https://www.reddit.com/r/loseit/comments/p7vnpq/careful_what_you_wish_for_i_guess/
No comments:
Post a Comment