Late-Night Binging

I'm thinking too big--I am too big. This last year, but specifically the last four months or so, I have really let myself go. From bouts of social smoking, to a pack every day and a half; from occasional snacking, to spontaneous Pop Tart inhaling at midnight--something has got to change.
For the last few months, I've been thinking on a grand scheme. I haven't been giving myself the proper amount of care.
I'm obsessed with the future and doing something truly fulfilling. I am overwhelmed by the emptiness I feel. I need a purpose, and I'm reaching way too far. I've realized that not having goals is stifling me more so than I ever imagined. I have been unemployed for over two months (I guess just about three), and I haven't even bothered to follow up with some of my book concepts. I've lost touch with myself, with what makes me truly happy.
I feel invigorated when I write; the creative juices fill me with adrenaline. I get satisfaction from blogging, but I think it takes more time to feel the effect. Working on the random concepts that fill my brain on a daily basis makes me feel accomplished somehow (even though they are far from completed).
Writing is just one aspect of my life that needs more attention. Physically, I feel like shit. There are times when being invisible has its advantages, but I'm ready to be noticed. I need to set a goal for myself that may seem menial in comparison to everything else I should be concentrating on, but it's something that will help me move to the next level. It's' easy to sit here, but I know how good I felt when I was going to the gym. I felt proud that I was taking the time to care for my body. I felt healthy, and I had more energy. Now, I would rather just skip moving in general. I hate being tired all the time.
In fact, I'm pretty tired right now.