Life is like a road. It has bumps, cracks and obstacles, but in the end, it gets you somewhere...

Wow.

I don’t even know where to start?

Honestly, I truly don’t.

Is anybody still around here?

Still waiting for me to post something.

I miss it.

I miss writing.

I miss y’all.

I miss motivating and inspiring.

I had to take steps back though.

It might not be a part of everybody’s journey but it was part of my journey.

It still is.

See, some of you may have though I had it all figured out.

You may have though I had my shit together.

And maybe I did a shy 4 months ago.

Today.

Today I sit here almost in tears, twenty pounds heavier, and still wondering what the hell has happened over these past four months.

I have a list of excuses.

Wanna hear them?

I didn’t think so…

But I quit my job of six years to pursue a new job.

A new job that on the outside seemed perfect.

I would have argued to you until I was blue in the face that it was perfect.

It wasn’t.

It just wasn’t for me.

I didn’t fit.

It did not mesh with me, nor did it mesh with my lifestyle.

I left a job where I could go to the gym every day at lunch to a job that was literally sucking the life out of me.

I hated it.

I hated the hours.

I disliked the way things were ran there, and the poor management.

I missed my family.

I was stressed.

I ate.

I didn’t work out.

There was no time, and when there was time I was too exhausted.

So I would sit on the couch before bed, watch my dvr, and I would eat.

I love food.

Too much…

I eat it all the time.

When I am happy, when I am sad, and every little emotion in between.

Sometimes it may be out of emotion but for the most part I just love food.

It became apparent one day that I no longer could go back to that job.

It was hurting me.

Physically, mentally, and emotionally.

In return it was only hurting myself, and most importantly the people I loved the most, my family.

So I quit.

I have NEVER done that but it was truly something I had to do.

Luckily there is a happy ending to it all.

I am not a bum sitting on the couch feeling sorry for myself all day long.

I found another amazing opportunity and it’s working out.

I love it.

I love the people.

And I get to help people all day.

The tricky part is this.

I am walking at least three to four miles a day.

It’s a mile around our building and we walk this on our breaks.

So that’s all well and fine.

I try to get out and be active at night but that doesn’t always happen.

I got a fitbit (themrsburris@yahoo.com for those that want to be friends) which has helped.

But it hasn’t been enough.

I have gained.

I know it.

I haven’t stepped on the scale in weeks.

I want to eat all the foods.

I want to eat all the foods all the time.

It’s my drug of choice and it has to stop.

I get so mad.

Like really extra crazy mad at myself.

How was it so easy before?

How in the shit did I manage to lose 110+ pounds and now losing 20 seems almost impossible.

I know it’s not.

I mean I know what I have to do.

But how do I not let food take over my life?

It’s gotten to the point that I don’t post on Instagram and I hate seeing people in public.

I am embarrassed and I am ashamed.

People looked up to me, the still do, and I have definitely let them down.

It’s a lot of pressure.

A lot.

I will get there, eventually.

This is just yet another bump, big bump if I might add, in this crazy journey so far.

So I guess I have a question for anybody that might be reading this.

What’s your way of getting back on track?

Of crawling out of the hole that never seems to have a way out of?

I know it's not impossible.

I know that.

I've come so far...