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Self-Sabotage

I’m self-destructing and part of me doesn’t even care.

My bedroom is a disaster. I haven’t worked out in days. I’ve been eating like a total jerk.

Should I stop? Probably. Will I? I don’t plan on it.

These last few days have been chaotic. What started as a simple project to replace some bathroom tiles and fix a loose toilet turned into an entire bathroom remodel. Turns out, there was a lot of neglected damage. It might not have been so bad if the issues were fixed sooner, but they were left to sit for years. There has to be some kind of lesson in that.

We’ve been without a toilet in our house since Friday. We may or may not have running water. Our living room and kitchen is piled up with stuff from the construction. I can’t cook, clean, work out, or anything. In fact, I basically can’t do anything except stay confined to my, very messy, bedroom when I’m home. Otherwise, I’ll just be in the way.

I stopped setting my alarm or trying to get to bed at a decent hour. Instead, at 9:30, I head to the local Target a mile away to make one last bathroom run for the night. Then, I stay up late in hopes that I’ll make it until 7am when the grocery store opens.

I’ve been spending most of my time at Starbucks these last few days. Fortunately, they’re open for indoor dining, but it is a little awkward. Unfortunately, my body isn’t quite used to drinking so much green tea. Plus, not being able to cook or clean isn’t exactly the best on my budget. If I had enough warning, I’d be able to at least pack lunches, but I wasn’t exactly prepared. So, I’ve been relying on fast food, meals at Starbucks, and grabbing packaged food from the grocery store. I haven’t been in my calorie goal since Thursday.

I honestly can’t say I’ve hit any one of my goals this week. I haven’t had water in days. I stopped doing my morning routine entirely. LIIFT4 is over. Who knows how many calories I’ve eaten today? I stopped tracking yesterday.

It’s self-sabotage. I know it is.

I’m being completely inflexible. I shouldn’t let something like not having access to a toilet, kitchen, or workout space slow me down.

But I am. I totally am.

And even though I am aware of what I’m doing, it’s not making much of a difference. I know I should at least do what I can do, but at this point, I just don’t care anymore.

Why am I like this?

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