It’s hard to be optimistic when my fat pants are tight.

I’d gone up one size. I couldn’t continue to squeeze my good times into the same clothes I’d been wearing. It’s not a good look, like, at all.

I’d gone from savage to far beyond average and was still trying to fool myself. Still blaming age, stress, blood type, brain, and whatever else I could. I’ve learned so much about myself and solidified and experienced so many lessons I’ve taught others.

You can’t get the ass you want while sitting on it.

I’ve got to change.

A poor attitude is like a flat tire, you won’t go anywhere until you change it.

Yep. I was still stuck.

Each morning I’d start the day with the best attitude and greatest intentions. However, at some point I’d fail. And the spiral that put into motion of self loathing and overwhelming frustration was fierce. I was the antithesis of everything I’d stood for over the years. Worst part for me was I felt like a liar, a fraud and a failure.

I began to not recognize myself.

In the past, I’d had zero issues with mental toughness. I was a freaking monster. I could do anything I’d set my mind to. I could rise to any challenge. I’d trained through injuries. I’d eat for fuel and not fun. I didn’t care about food. It was simply the vehicle for my body to perform. I was a freak on some levels and man oh man do I miss those days and absolutely realize the lack of appreciation for myself then.

What happened? How’d I go from unstoppable to slamming on the brakes? I don’t know. I honestly don’t know how I started to slide. More alarming was when I finally did catch the slide, why didn’t I stop it? Instead, I’d turned head first and dove all in to my mental demise.

Now I’ve hit rock bottom and staring upwards. It’s time to begin the climb out.