I've been back in London for almost a week now, and from your view, I'm not even in Scotland yet. Feeling pressurised to finish the blog. Although no one is harassing me, I don't like expectations.
Being back here is making me miserable. But I'm pulling through. For reasons you'll eventually know, I've not eaten artificial sugar in over 2 weeks. I don't think I haven't eaten sweets or chocolate that long, since I was physically able to eat them.
Sugar was my constant energy source. When I crashed, I ate more sugar. But now, I'm finding my energy elsewhere, and I'm cooking. Me. With a fire. And I've used the chopping board more this week, than I have in the last year. And that is not an exaggeration. I'm working up to the notion of doing some exercise. I want to do exercise, but I don't want to die. Combined with this 1 million times better diet, I could lose over a stone. It will be harder because of my PCOS, but not impossible. As well as being a problem with laziness, it's a problem with confidence.