Ten Pounds

I got on the scale yesterday and found out that I've lost ten pounds in the last few months.  I'm happy about that, but since this is the ten pounds that I'd gained in the past 2 years, I'm now only coming off of my highest weight ever, 50 pounds higher than it was 5 years ago.  I've struggled with weight my entire adult life and have lost a whole me (in pieces, through sheer willpower and awfullness) and then gained me back.  The times when I've successfully lost weight (if keeping it off for a year can be counted as successful), the shift is not so much in what I eat or how I exercise - it's in my psyche.  Some mysterious internal thing changes and I no longer want to use starchy food to comfort myself, and no longer stuff myself at every opportunity.  When I think about dieting, I don't think about calories or carbs (much).  I think about having happy things in my life.  I do things that make me happy.  I enjoy myself and the weight melts off.  For me, weight is a visible indicator of my state of mind.

I've kind of thrown away (for now at least) the endless lists and the continual focus I've kept about what I need to do to accomplish my goals.  The house and homestead aren't going to fall apart if I piss around and do fun things for a few months.  I've given myself permission to stop trying to accomplish something Every. Single. Waking minute of my life, and enjoy the things in my life that make me happy.  It feels good and my body thinks so, too.