Control or controlled?

I stepped as usual on the scale this morning. And I did not lose a pound.
A million things went through my head. The dominant one was: "You are not trying hard enough."

This is a really ugly feeling and makes you do a lot of things that may appear neurotic, actually. Like speaking to yourself all the time when you're alone, telling yourself that you're a fat cow and you'll always be fat as long as you don't reach like 87 pounds. And that you won't reach 87 pounds by doing what you're doing right now (eat less than 500 cals a day) because you've seen this morning that you don't lose a single pound.

Panic sneaks into your life, creeping up your back and makes itself comfortable as your permanent escort.

I know that this is wrong. The whole thing, generally. But I also know that I can't stop with it until I reached my goal. I have control over my food, my eating habits. But I have none over my thoughts. I feel as if I was remote-controlled by a higher force that deceitful hides behind the impression that I am doing what I want to do. Weird? Even weirder is that I don't want to do anything about it...