I'm still fat.
It's so funny to me that the last time I posted here it was on the same topic that brought me to write something four and a half years later. I'm still fat. I'm still in pain. But for the last two and a half years, I've also been a mother dealing with those first two. The past two years have been some sort of mashup between a rollercoaster and a train wreck with parenting and the pandemic. There have been many times I thought about journaling here or in a physical journal, but to be honest, I didn't really want a record of how dark a place my mind had been. It's a struggle to know what's the right thing to do in the midst of a new and ever changing pandemic and I think parenting is always a struggle. At least, I think it always would have been for me. And that's not something I really have wanted to record for posterity, though I admit it would probably help the child's future therapist out. I started some new treatments for pain this week. After st