I came back from my trip and I started thinking, too much. Over thinking about myself, my life, my body, my relationships... I thought so much that I started eating more, to feel better.

I spent 25 days in Central America, living in the moment, day by day. I came back and I missed that. I miss not having to plan my meals, not having to work out. I missed Iban and the simplicity of being with someone like him. I missed not being nervous, not caring about being in control or not. To make this short, I came back and I ate my emotions instead of dealing with them, kind of like what I have been doing my whole entire life. Eating to feel better. To some people it's drugs, to others it's alcohol and to some, to me, it's food. Food is what I go to in moments of despair and stress. It's the one thing that will never let me down when I need a pick me up. It's also the one thing that ruins my happiness and my efforts. It's my drug I guess.

A couple days ago, I felt like I was going to explode. Every time I'd think too much, tears would just pool up in my eyes. I even started hyperventilating one afternoon. I knew it was time to deal with whatever I had to deal with. I came back home that night and for the first time in... forever, I talked with my parents, about this, about how I felt like they were ashamed of me when I was bigger, how I felt like I was never enough... My mom held me in her arms while I was crying, I didn't want to let go. I talked with my father, which was like taking a 100 pound backpack off my shoulders. I felt so much better after, I feel so much better.

They made me realize that my weight, the fact that I was obese before, didn't matter to them as much as I though it did. It wasn't because they were ashamed that they wanted me to lose weight, it wasn't because they were disappointed... It was because they knew I wasn't happy. They saw me sulking and crying and feeling like shit. They knew what was going on in my head. The same goes with the family. They didn't see the fat Corinne like I saw her. They saw Corinne. My aunt wrote to me, something so nice, I almost cried. It was honest and true. It really shook me up to see that the perception I had was almost completely false.

What I am trying to say is that this is what it took for me to come back to reality. I needed to write that explosive post. I needed to blow up for me to admit that I needed help, to deal with my self-image and my self-confidence. Everything happens for a reason, and now, I feel in control again: in control of my eating, in control of my emotions. Talking to my parents was better than anything else I have ever done.

So, all of you, expect great things coming on the blog in the next days. Mountain hiking, dating stories, 4th of july pictures, party stories (I just got Fireball Whisky), healthy eating, moderate cheating, running posts and all that.

I'm back.