I am a flatliner. Not in the way the word implies.  I am typing, after all, which means I must be alive.

Because my heart is still beating, Kiefer Sutherland, Kevin Bacon, William Baldwin and Julia Roberts would have absolutely no interest in the kind of flatline I am experiencing.

Like their characters in the 1990 Joel Schumacher movie “Flatliners,” I am looking for meaning in my life. My journey into the unknown, however, is more metaphorical than medical. No literal resuscitation is required.

My flatlining is both good and bad.

Disney/Pixar

Disney/Pixar

I’ll start with the good. I maintained my weight through the holidays and into the new year. Yay me. I guess. As I wrote that, I heard the voice of Sadness from “Inside Out” in my head. And now you’ve heard it that way, too. Amiright?

Let’s try that again with a little enthusiasm. Channeling Joy. Yay me!! Woohoo!

It really is worth a “Woohoo!” Maintaining a stable weight during the holiday season is no small thing, but I don’t think I appreciate that quite the way I should.

Which brings me to the bad side of my flatline. Let’s not call it “bad,” because in the greater scheme of things, it’s not. It’s just not overtly good. So, I’ll simply call it the not-so-good.

The NSG is inspiration and motivation seem to have packed up and left, abandoning me in my time of need. My heart just isn’t in this right now. Flatlining.

I’m not sure why my head and heart are on hiatus when it comes to this whole weight-loss thing. Maybe because I was so focused for so long? Post-holiday blues? The perception of failure since regaining some of those lost pounds? (Seriously, though. How did they find me? They were lost! Did they Mapquest their way back to my ass? Geez!)

This isn't me. But I might as well be holding up the same "meh face" card.

This isn’t me. But I might as well be holding up the same “meh face” card.

I suppose the why of it doesn’t matter all that much. The bottom line is I’m having trouble dredging up enthusiasm for much of anything, including this endeavor that was oh-so-important to me not terribly long ago.

So there’s just one question now. How do I fix it?

My mom suggests sheer force of will.

“Be strict about sticking to your eating plan and success will come,” she said.

And then perhaps success will lure her good friends, inspiration and motivation, back home where they belong.

I believe some people call that “fake it, ’til you make it.”

Worth a shot, right? At least it’s a decision, an action.

So, I’m starting over. Actually, that’s not quite right. I’m not starting over. But I’m not picking up where I left off, either. I’m somewhere in between. I’m not entirely sure what to call it.

switchbacksHow about a switchback? That works. A switchback — a 180-degree bend in a road or path. It fits. I knew the path between where I was all those months ago and where I want to be would be nothing close to a straight line. I knew there would be detours, the scenic route. Now I think zig-zaggy switchbacks are on my map, too.

It’s time to round the next 180-degree bend. Maybe I’ll find my inspiration and motivation waiting for me there, thumbs outs, waving a handwritten sign that says “Need a lift!”

And I’ll think to myself, “Yes! So do I.”