It amazes me that as this journey is becoming more commonplace that it still isn’t getting any easier. I’ve been on this life improvement train for almost 13 months now and it is just as difficult, if not more now, than it has ever been. Previously, I referred to getting to my highest weight as filling my size 62 pants with one million mistakes and that to lose the weight I’ve got to fix, reverse these mistakes. I figured as I managed to untangle this bad wiring that it would be easier to get to the more complicated issues. I feel like I’m working harder now than I was 12 to 13 months ago.
When I got started, I was so fat, that exercise really just had to include movement and I would lose weight. At 507 pounds, walking around the block could be considered cardio because my heart rate was getting up to 145 beats/minute pretty easy. My weight has plateau-ed for about 5 months now so I started working out with a personal trainer. I’m on a fantastic workout, but I thought getting out of bed before was a struggle. I have to brace myself to get myself on and off the toilet because my legs burn so badly. I’m even getting lightheaded from the pain. I’ve got to do that workout on my own tomorrow and I don’t know how I’m going to summon the strength to do it!
Not to have one of those TMI (too much information) moments, but there is a correlation between my weight plateau-ing and having regular bowel movements. I know that isn’t something one wants to talk about, but it’s been such a struggle and it’s made me so miserable. I’ve tried various daily amounts of fiber and other supplements with no improvement. At one time, I was taking two ex-lax a night before I went to bed, just to help with the discomfort. I’ve talked with different nutritionists and doctors with conflicting opinions. It turns out that I needed more pro-biotics in my diet. I’ve been taking a daily dose with my breakfast for the past few days and my excretory issues are over! As I’m losing this weight, my body chemistry is getting all out of sorts. It’s so frustrating to think that I’m improving my body and screwing it up at the same time.
Now that I’m having multiple, daily trips to the restroom, my weight is surely going to start dropping rapidly. My problem is that now I have an excuse to stop the mega-workout. In just a week, I’m going to see incredible results, but I don’t know if I have it in me. 13 months ago, I had to lose weight. I was unhealthy, sick, and lonely. I had to lose weight or my life was quickly going to end. Now, I’m in excellent shape medically. I have a girlfriend, a family, a great sex life, zero physical limitations and all I had to do was make a commitment to a passive effort. I never really had to push myself that hard, I just had to show up every day and stick to my menu plan 95 percent of the time. Pushing past the pain in an attempt at bettering myself, even further, is actually an active attempt at greatness and I don’t know that I’ve ever done that in the 27 years of my life. Not to “toot my own horn,” but I’m a pretty smart young man so school has never been a struggle. Because I wasn’t taking care of my body, life has previously been a breeze. I have my fair share of mental and emotional daemons, but the antidepressants that I’m on, and my lifetime commitment to stay on them, makes dealing with these emotions much easier.
One of my favorite monologues is from the movie Any Given Sunday. Al Pacino gives this speech before the big game and he talks about how “life is this game of inches” and how fighting for the next inch is what life is all about. I’ll kill myself for the next inch, but trying to make this leap absolutely terrifies me. I get so inspired by this line from the movie Varsity Blues that goes, “We have our entire lives to be mediocre, but we have the opportunity to play like gods for the next half of football.” So many great dramas revolve around the idea of the protagonist rallying against insurmountable odds to succeed at this moment of greatness (like a big game, battle, trial, moment of truth). You see, that sort of thing is sexy. It’s damn right heroic! I can get inspired for that moment of truth. I can push myself for the big game, but who wants to summon that courage and strength for a hard, painful workout on some random Wednesday?
There are very few people that rise to greatness for the purpose of personal accomplishment and not for the glory. I don’t have the self esteem to want this for myself so what possible motivation do I have to struggle through this pain? I do believe that tomorrow is one of those forks in the road that will dictate the rest of my life. It is clear that tomorrow will be one of those defining moments. I think the underlying issue here is that I’m 27 and I’m still learning who am I and what I have the “stones” for. I could talk for another two pages on that, but I don’t know that we ever really know who we really are. I think that is what makes life so exciting and why no two days are ever alike. So what will tomorrow bring?
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Sunday, January 18, 2009
I AM Obama!!!
After this election cycle, I’m so tired of the word, CHANGE. It seemed like every politician that was running from President of the United States to county dog catcher used those six letters in every sentence they put out for consumption….
“I’m for change.”
“I’m an instrument of change.”
“I promise to bring about sweeping changes.”
“We’re going to change America for the better.”
“America, it’s time for change.”
I’m so damn tired of that word that I can hardly stand it. Most people who read this would probably assume that I like things the way they are. They probably think I’m set in my ways and opposed to change. That couldn’t be further from the truth. I can’t believe I’m this self-absorbed, but my problem is for everything I’ve done to improve my life in the past 13 months, it drives me crazy for the word to be used as a cliché.
My problem is that I don’t know how to make improvements. I only know change. I live life to the best of my abilities and as problems start, my life develops this downward spiral and I don’t seem to react until I’ve hit the bottom. By the time I’ve hit the bottom, I’ve abandoned my friends, I’ve lied to my family, and I’m just moments from losing my mind altogether. At that point, I start seeing a therapist again, get back on antidepressants, and then start my life all over again. You see, I have a family history of mental illness which means that I should be on antidepressants for the rest of my life. My problem is that when things start to go wrong in life, it is hard to feel sorry for myself, self-soothe (abuse things that give immediate gratification), and quit trying when you’re properly medicated so I stop taking the medicine, become unbalanced, and then ride the spiral all the way down to the bottom. Why would anybody do this? Because when you don’t have anything to live for, the bottom is the most comfortable place to be. When you’re life conditions match your perceived life prospects (i.e. when you feel you don’t deserve anything and you don’t have anything), then you are responsibility free. You know you’re a piece of shit, but you could care less….
People tell me what incredible job I’ve done in the past 13 months. They tell me that the weight loss is incredible and always tell me I’m looking better every time I see them. Some people tell me they’re jealous that I’ve gotten a chance to start over with life figured out and an idea of what I want for my future. Though I appreciate their words, it is my belief that there is a difference between improving one’s life and changing one’s life. It’s easier to build a new house as oppose to remodeling one. It is easier to start with a clean slate than to take conditions as they are and develop your life, for the better, around those conditions. Though I’m very proud I’ve made it this far, I’ll be more proud of myself in 5 years if I’ve kept the weight off of continued to enhance my life.
If this line of thinking is foreign to you, don’t feel bad. I’ve learned over the years that I don’t see the world the way most people do. If a politician campaigned that “change is the slackers way and instead of overhauling everything, we’re going to make little improvements on the system we’ve got in place,” I might be the only person that didn’t snicker and sneer him/her out of town. In our society, it is easier to try to change the people around you than to make improvements to your own life. It is easier to enforce your standards on others than to find a situation that is more comfortable to you. The more that I improve my life, the more I get frustrated with people that are unwilling, unable, or resistant to change. It’s gotten to the point to where I’ll “raise the bar,” or set the standard, and people continue to live their lives and interact around me as usual. If I set the standard higher, and the people around me don’t rise to it, how do they not feel like even more of a piece of shit? My girlfriend gets it and seems genuinely up to the challenge. My “raising the bar” has shown her that she has this incredible opportunity to do whatever she wants and that her divorce isn’t the end of anything, but the start of an incredibly journey. She is going to do great things and seeing life change in action has done wonders for her.
A big thorn in my ass is people that are with partners they don’t deserve or make a minimal effort for. Are these people so self-aware that they know that they don’t have to improve their lives to increase their happiness? Is it self-aware or is it self-absorbed? Does this come down to the idea that some people are givers and some people are takers? Do givers change while takers stay the same? Then, that begs the question do givers change for the sake of takers? Can a giver change with disregard to the takers in their lives? Can a giver live independently? Why do givers need takers? Can two givers coexist in the absence of takers?
If I’m making such great improvements in my life, why would I take the time to worry about such things and be angry about those that are so resistant to change? It’s because I’m afraid on a daily basis that I’m heading in the right direction (for now), but on the wrong road. What if I’m on a road that goes east, for now, but ends up going west? I’m a giver and I despise takers/users with every ounce of hatred I have. It isn’t so much because I’m angry for being lured in by so many only to be discarded, used up, and worse for wear, but I think it’s because I’m afraid that I am a taker after all. Is the difference between being a giver and a taker confidence? I’m afraid that as I continue to improve my life and the inadequacy disappears, that I’ll end up living like the people that I despise.
In the end, I don’t believe that our destinies are set, so I can live out my life the way I want. I can be with whom I want and I can love anyone that I choose. Even though the takers just drive me bananas, ultimately, I should only worry/be upset about the things that I have any influence on and “raising the bar” just isn’t influence. Those people that won’t change aren’t my problem and in the end they’re going to be left behind if they don’t conform to the standard around them. It’s too bad, but it’s not my job to carry them through, it’s my job to keep setting the standard. So how am I going to deal with these folks that upset me so much? One of the things on my list of things to do before I’m 30 is to learn to play “Stairway to Heaven” on guitar, so today I’m going to start looking for a cheap guitar and start taking lessons on the internet. That Michael Jackson was one crazy son of a bitch, but he was right on when he sang,
“If you want to make the world a better place, take a look at yourself and make the change…..”
I should only worry about the things that I can control; my life and my decisions. There isn’t one right road through life. I can blaze my own path in any direction I choose. Finally, I am aware and in control of my life and that is all I can ever do. Maybe change isn’t such a bad word after all! We should always be changing and improving our lives, but we shouldn’t look to Washington DC, or our local state capitals to make our lives better. Instead we need to look inward, at our own hearts and our own lives, and that is where we can make the most good in this society. President-elect Obama is going to have as much fortune changing the direction of a planet of nearly 6 billion people as I am getting angry because there are worthless people out there. I just have a hard time with patience and tolerance because the reward for these virtues just takes so damn long! I guess thats why they’re so rare in this fast paced, immediate gratification society. Nobody plans for tomorrow anymore, it seems they just concentrate what they can take today. Patience and tolerance is the absolute key for my success. If those virtues are rare, then that must make me rich!
“I’m for change.”
“I’m an instrument of change.”
“I promise to bring about sweeping changes.”
“We’re going to change America for the better.”
“America, it’s time for change.”
I’m so damn tired of that word that I can hardly stand it. Most people who read this would probably assume that I like things the way they are. They probably think I’m set in my ways and opposed to change. That couldn’t be further from the truth. I can’t believe I’m this self-absorbed, but my problem is for everything I’ve done to improve my life in the past 13 months, it drives me crazy for the word to be used as a cliché.
My problem is that I don’t know how to make improvements. I only know change. I live life to the best of my abilities and as problems start, my life develops this downward spiral and I don’t seem to react until I’ve hit the bottom. By the time I’ve hit the bottom, I’ve abandoned my friends, I’ve lied to my family, and I’m just moments from losing my mind altogether. At that point, I start seeing a therapist again, get back on antidepressants, and then start my life all over again. You see, I have a family history of mental illness which means that I should be on antidepressants for the rest of my life. My problem is that when things start to go wrong in life, it is hard to feel sorry for myself, self-soothe (abuse things that give immediate gratification), and quit trying when you’re properly medicated so I stop taking the medicine, become unbalanced, and then ride the spiral all the way down to the bottom. Why would anybody do this? Because when you don’t have anything to live for, the bottom is the most comfortable place to be. When you’re life conditions match your perceived life prospects (i.e. when you feel you don’t deserve anything and you don’t have anything), then you are responsibility free. You know you’re a piece of shit, but you could care less….
People tell me what incredible job I’ve done in the past 13 months. They tell me that the weight loss is incredible and always tell me I’m looking better every time I see them. Some people tell me they’re jealous that I’ve gotten a chance to start over with life figured out and an idea of what I want for my future. Though I appreciate their words, it is my belief that there is a difference between improving one’s life and changing one’s life. It’s easier to build a new house as oppose to remodeling one. It is easier to start with a clean slate than to take conditions as they are and develop your life, for the better, around those conditions. Though I’m very proud I’ve made it this far, I’ll be more proud of myself in 5 years if I’ve kept the weight off of continued to enhance my life.
If this line of thinking is foreign to you, don’t feel bad. I’ve learned over the years that I don’t see the world the way most people do. If a politician campaigned that “change is the slackers way and instead of overhauling everything, we’re going to make little improvements on the system we’ve got in place,” I might be the only person that didn’t snicker and sneer him/her out of town. In our society, it is easier to try to change the people around you than to make improvements to your own life. It is easier to enforce your standards on others than to find a situation that is more comfortable to you. The more that I improve my life, the more I get frustrated with people that are unwilling, unable, or resistant to change. It’s gotten to the point to where I’ll “raise the bar,” or set the standard, and people continue to live their lives and interact around me as usual. If I set the standard higher, and the people around me don’t rise to it, how do they not feel like even more of a piece of shit? My girlfriend gets it and seems genuinely up to the challenge. My “raising the bar” has shown her that she has this incredible opportunity to do whatever she wants and that her divorce isn’t the end of anything, but the start of an incredibly journey. She is going to do great things and seeing life change in action has done wonders for her.
A big thorn in my ass is people that are with partners they don’t deserve or make a minimal effort for. Are these people so self-aware that they know that they don’t have to improve their lives to increase their happiness? Is it self-aware or is it self-absorbed? Does this come down to the idea that some people are givers and some people are takers? Do givers change while takers stay the same? Then, that begs the question do givers change for the sake of takers? Can a giver change with disregard to the takers in their lives? Can a giver live independently? Why do givers need takers? Can two givers coexist in the absence of takers?
If I’m making such great improvements in my life, why would I take the time to worry about such things and be angry about those that are so resistant to change? It’s because I’m afraid on a daily basis that I’m heading in the right direction (for now), but on the wrong road. What if I’m on a road that goes east, for now, but ends up going west? I’m a giver and I despise takers/users with every ounce of hatred I have. It isn’t so much because I’m angry for being lured in by so many only to be discarded, used up, and worse for wear, but I think it’s because I’m afraid that I am a taker after all. Is the difference between being a giver and a taker confidence? I’m afraid that as I continue to improve my life and the inadequacy disappears, that I’ll end up living like the people that I despise.
In the end, I don’t believe that our destinies are set, so I can live out my life the way I want. I can be with whom I want and I can love anyone that I choose. Even though the takers just drive me bananas, ultimately, I should only worry/be upset about the things that I have any influence on and “raising the bar” just isn’t influence. Those people that won’t change aren’t my problem and in the end they’re going to be left behind if they don’t conform to the standard around them. It’s too bad, but it’s not my job to carry them through, it’s my job to keep setting the standard. So how am I going to deal with these folks that upset me so much? One of the things on my list of things to do before I’m 30 is to learn to play “Stairway to Heaven” on guitar, so today I’m going to start looking for a cheap guitar and start taking lessons on the internet. That Michael Jackson was one crazy son of a bitch, but he was right on when he sang,
“If you want to make the world a better place, take a look at yourself and make the change…..”
I should only worry about the things that I can control; my life and my decisions. There isn’t one right road through life. I can blaze my own path in any direction I choose. Finally, I am aware and in control of my life and that is all I can ever do. Maybe change isn’t such a bad word after all! We should always be changing and improving our lives, but we shouldn’t look to Washington DC, or our local state capitals to make our lives better. Instead we need to look inward, at our own hearts and our own lives, and that is where we can make the most good in this society. President-elect Obama is going to have as much fortune changing the direction of a planet of nearly 6 billion people as I am getting angry because there are worthless people out there. I just have a hard time with patience and tolerance because the reward for these virtues just takes so damn long! I guess thats why they’re so rare in this fast paced, immediate gratification society. Nobody plans for tomorrow anymore, it seems they just concentrate what they can take today. Patience and tolerance is the absolute key for my success. If those virtues are rare, then that must make me rich!
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Christmas Eve
Christmas Eve has always been a very special time in my life. For the majority of my youth, it was just me and my mother. My father moved out when I was just five and even though my mother remarried, for all intents and purposes, it was just the two of us. During a particularly rough time when I was young, I wanted to do something special for my mother for Christmas. I didn’t have but a few dollars and nobody to take me shopping, so I decided to cook dinner on Christmas Eve. My cooking knowledge was limited and we didn’t have a lot around the house so I treated my mother to the most elaborate spaghetti and meatball dinner that a seven year old could put together. At the time, I didn’t really understand the pressure that she was under, but I could tell that my efforts had meant the world to her and with that, a family tradition was born.
Throughout all of my struggles, missteps, and issues in my young life, I’ve always kept this tradition alive. If my mom and I are together Christmas Eve, we’ll enjoy our Italian delight, but if we’re apart, no matter what I’m doing, I make time to have a salad, spaghetti, and meatballs on Christmas Eve. A few nights ago, I had the pleasure of sharing my December 24th tradition with my new family, “rock star” and “princess.” We have had the most hectic time since the beginning of October and the few days leading up to Christmas were really passively guided chaos, but for dinner on Christmas Eve, I drove to Fazoli’s, picked up a family order of spaghetti and meatballs, and we sat and enjoyed my traditional meal.
You see, December 24th was the one year anniversary of the “first day of the rest of my life,” as it were. It was on the 23rd that I came to the realization that I had to make some changes in my life. On the morning of the 24th, I weighed myself, for the first time in 7 years and was shocked to find out that I weighed in at 507 pounds! It was such a shock, because I had been too depressed to even look at myself in the mirror for the last five years, so I really had no clue what I looked like or how fat I really was. After that moment of truth, I’ll admit that not even trying was my favorite option by far. I was in such pain and I knew that I was getting closer and closer to the end. Why not just ride this misery train to its last stop and give up? In a very overdramatic fashion, I wasn’t, couldn’t really, give up and I decided that I was going to live my life the way I always wanted. I had known my calling in life from a very early age, but I always lacked the backbone and initiative to tell the people close to me what I wanted out of MY LIFE. I announced to the world, even though nobody was around, that on this day, December 24, 2007, that I was taking ownership of my life and that rolling around on the bottom of the barrel was officially over. It was time to put on my “big-boy pants” and make the necessary changes in my life.
So, one year later, I’m 172 pounds lighter and having the time of my life. Even though that is a milestone, it still isn’t what makes the 24th so special. Because of the way I grew up, it’s always been clear to me that I would never leave my family like my father did. As the years after high school have passed and my mom has moved to Florida, I’ve had the opportunity to get to know my father a lot better and we actually have a pretty solid relationship. He has helped me through some very tough times and I owe him a great deal. I’d even come to the point where I’d forgiven him for leaving and justifying it by saying that understanding yourself is hard work and he just hadn’t had the opportunity to figure himself out in time to save our family.
With that idea fresh in my mind, I ventured into this relationship (with “rock star”) where I got the opportunity to see “how the sausage was made” and I was shocked to say the least. She is in the process of getting divorced. It is such an ugly situation where a mother is pit against the man she loves in an attempt to provide for her child. What a nightmare and absolutely unfair/inappropriate situation. My girlfriend’s ability to persevere through this situation while encouraging her child to have a happy, healthy, fun, and loving relationship with the man who walked out on them is a trait that I admire so much. Through all of that, plus all of the other struggles in her life, my girlfriend is still one of the nicest people I’ve ever know and she still sees the best in others even though she has a plethora of reasons not to.
Finally, watching this divorce unfold has reinforced such an appreciation that I have for my mother. Even though I cooked on Christmas Eve, she managed to put food on the table for the remaining 364 and a half days of the year. Even to this day, through all of the evil she has seen in her lifetime, she continues to touch peoples’ lives and show them the potential that they have within themselves. She is an administrator at a nursing home in Florida, but the word administrator doesn’t do her efforts justice. Her employees would probably refer to her as a “staff mother” before a boss. On many occasions, I’ve seen her talking to people making minimum wage emptying bed pans and encouraging them to get their G.E.D. and helping them find options to pay for it. She treats everybody equally and possibly better than she treats herself.
Even though December 24th now marks a date of personal accomplishment in my life, my traditional dinner will always be an honor to the women in my life have persevered over so much and still held true to their belief that good really does win over evil. These “superheroes” are champions of the human spirit and a great example of how not to sacrifice your principles no matter what the circumstances. These women have earned my admiration and respect 1,000 times over and I feel that a spaghetti dinner on Christmas Eve is the least I can do to show them how amazing they really are. Hopefully, and maybe with a little help from this essay, they can see themselves in the light that they deserve.
I consider myself fortunate to have one woman like this in my life. I have no excuse to be anything less with two in my life. They are the single greatest motivator in my life and I celebrate this tradition in their honor. Every day that I venture to live like my queen and my mother puts me one day closer to godliness (whatever religion or creed you subscribe). The world would be a better place with more people like these two; my life sure is.
Throughout all of my struggles, missteps, and issues in my young life, I’ve always kept this tradition alive. If my mom and I are together Christmas Eve, we’ll enjoy our Italian delight, but if we’re apart, no matter what I’m doing, I make time to have a salad, spaghetti, and meatballs on Christmas Eve. A few nights ago, I had the pleasure of sharing my December 24th tradition with my new family, “rock star” and “princess.” We have had the most hectic time since the beginning of October and the few days leading up to Christmas were really passively guided chaos, but for dinner on Christmas Eve, I drove to Fazoli’s, picked up a family order of spaghetti and meatballs, and we sat and enjoyed my traditional meal.
You see, December 24th was the one year anniversary of the “first day of the rest of my life,” as it were. It was on the 23rd that I came to the realization that I had to make some changes in my life. On the morning of the 24th, I weighed myself, for the first time in 7 years and was shocked to find out that I weighed in at 507 pounds! It was such a shock, because I had been too depressed to even look at myself in the mirror for the last five years, so I really had no clue what I looked like or how fat I really was. After that moment of truth, I’ll admit that not even trying was my favorite option by far. I was in such pain and I knew that I was getting closer and closer to the end. Why not just ride this misery train to its last stop and give up? In a very overdramatic fashion, I wasn’t, couldn’t really, give up and I decided that I was going to live my life the way I always wanted. I had known my calling in life from a very early age, but I always lacked the backbone and initiative to tell the people close to me what I wanted out of MY LIFE. I announced to the world, even though nobody was around, that on this day, December 24, 2007, that I was taking ownership of my life and that rolling around on the bottom of the barrel was officially over. It was time to put on my “big-boy pants” and make the necessary changes in my life.
So, one year later, I’m 172 pounds lighter and having the time of my life. Even though that is a milestone, it still isn’t what makes the 24th so special. Because of the way I grew up, it’s always been clear to me that I would never leave my family like my father did. As the years after high school have passed and my mom has moved to Florida, I’ve had the opportunity to get to know my father a lot better and we actually have a pretty solid relationship. He has helped me through some very tough times and I owe him a great deal. I’d even come to the point where I’d forgiven him for leaving and justifying it by saying that understanding yourself is hard work and he just hadn’t had the opportunity to figure himself out in time to save our family.
With that idea fresh in my mind, I ventured into this relationship (with “rock star”) where I got the opportunity to see “how the sausage was made” and I was shocked to say the least. She is in the process of getting divorced. It is such an ugly situation where a mother is pit against the man she loves in an attempt to provide for her child. What a nightmare and absolutely unfair/inappropriate situation. My girlfriend’s ability to persevere through this situation while encouraging her child to have a happy, healthy, fun, and loving relationship with the man who walked out on them is a trait that I admire so much. Through all of that, plus all of the other struggles in her life, my girlfriend is still one of the nicest people I’ve ever know and she still sees the best in others even though she has a plethora of reasons not to.
Finally, watching this divorce unfold has reinforced such an appreciation that I have for my mother. Even though I cooked on Christmas Eve, she managed to put food on the table for the remaining 364 and a half days of the year. Even to this day, through all of the evil she has seen in her lifetime, she continues to touch peoples’ lives and show them the potential that they have within themselves. She is an administrator at a nursing home in Florida, but the word administrator doesn’t do her efforts justice. Her employees would probably refer to her as a “staff mother” before a boss. On many occasions, I’ve seen her talking to people making minimum wage emptying bed pans and encouraging them to get their G.E.D. and helping them find options to pay for it. She treats everybody equally and possibly better than she treats herself.
Even though December 24th now marks a date of personal accomplishment in my life, my traditional dinner will always be an honor to the women in my life have persevered over so much and still held true to their belief that good really does win over evil. These “superheroes” are champions of the human spirit and a great example of how not to sacrifice your principles no matter what the circumstances. These women have earned my admiration and respect 1,000 times over and I feel that a spaghetti dinner on Christmas Eve is the least I can do to show them how amazing they really are. Hopefully, and maybe with a little help from this essay, they can see themselves in the light that they deserve.
I consider myself fortunate to have one woman like this in my life. I have no excuse to be anything less with two in my life. They are the single greatest motivator in my life and I celebrate this tradition in their honor. Every day that I venture to live like my queen and my mother puts me one day closer to godliness (whatever religion or creed you subscribe). The world would be a better place with more people like these two; my life sure is.
Friday, December 12, 2008
"Objects in the rear view mirror may appear closer than they are..."
My life has been plagued with bad relationships. Until recently, I lacked the confidence to demand that I be treated properly so it allowed women to walk all over me. I never thought I was good enough for the relationships that I was in and they used it to their advantage.
The other day, my girlfriend and I were eating dinner and she asked me how much of my thinking and behavior is affected by previous relationships. I struggled to come up with the first one, but since then I realize that I'm a fucking mess with all sorts of baggage clogging my way of thinking. It amazes me that I expect the worst from an absolutely incredible woman because every other woman I dated treated me like garbage. I'm a smart, level-headed man, but when it comes to relationships I'm neurotic bordering on insanity.
I've been conditioned to expect my partner to do and think the exact opposite of what I think and feel and when I find a woman that I match up with so well, I'm nervous that it's just some elaborate ruse. I know in my mind the truth about her, but these ne-jerk reactions are a tremendous inconvenience and could potentially ruin a really healthy relationship. It's been so long that I can hardly see their faces anymore, but the affects of those bad relationships still remain.
Meat Loaf once wrote, "I hear that ugly, coarse, and battered voice and he's right behind me now and he's gaining ground.... But it was long ago and it was far away, oh god, it seems so very far; and if life is just a highway, then the soul is just a car...."
I was scared to make improvements in my life because I knew that the daemons from my past would haunt me wherever I ventured and that they would cause me to fall further the higher I got in life. Because it isn't where you end up that is painful; it's how far you fall. That's the problem with life. "Objects in the rear view mirror appear closer than they are." If I'm not careful, I'll be so focused on the pain in the rear-view and I'll crash into something catastrophic. Every day is new. Every day is different. Addicts in recovery say that "today is the first day of the rest of my life." I need to pay better attention to those words.
My past sucks, but today was one of the best days of my life. Nothing really special happened except I worked on improving my life, I woke up and will go to sleep next to the woman of my dreams, and I got to cook for my family. I've spent my whole life looking backwards and missed the joy right in front of my face. Life will be so much different without starring at that rear-view mirror. I think I'll figure it out though. Besides, most cars in Indiana don't have rear-view windows anyway..... ;)
The other day, my girlfriend and I were eating dinner and she asked me how much of my thinking and behavior is affected by previous relationships. I struggled to come up with the first one, but since then I realize that I'm a fucking mess with all sorts of baggage clogging my way of thinking. It amazes me that I expect the worst from an absolutely incredible woman because every other woman I dated treated me like garbage. I'm a smart, level-headed man, but when it comes to relationships I'm neurotic bordering on insanity.
I've been conditioned to expect my partner to do and think the exact opposite of what I think and feel and when I find a woman that I match up with so well, I'm nervous that it's just some elaborate ruse. I know in my mind the truth about her, but these ne-jerk reactions are a tremendous inconvenience and could potentially ruin a really healthy relationship. It's been so long that I can hardly see their faces anymore, but the affects of those bad relationships still remain.
Meat Loaf once wrote, "I hear that ugly, coarse, and battered voice and he's right behind me now and he's gaining ground.... But it was long ago and it was far away, oh god, it seems so very far; and if life is just a highway, then the soul is just a car...."
I was scared to make improvements in my life because I knew that the daemons from my past would haunt me wherever I ventured and that they would cause me to fall further the higher I got in life. Because it isn't where you end up that is painful; it's how far you fall. That's the problem with life. "Objects in the rear view mirror appear closer than they are." If I'm not careful, I'll be so focused on the pain in the rear-view and I'll crash into something catastrophic. Every day is new. Every day is different. Addicts in recovery say that "today is the first day of the rest of my life." I need to pay better attention to those words.
My past sucks, but today was one of the best days of my life. Nothing really special happened except I worked on improving my life, I woke up and will go to sleep next to the woman of my dreams, and I got to cook for my family. I've spent my whole life looking backwards and missed the joy right in front of my face. Life will be so much different without starring at that rear-view mirror. I think I'll figure it out though. Besides, most cars in Indiana don't have rear-view windows anyway..... ;)
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
What to do when words don't seem to help....
As I continue to get older, it seems that the effectiveness of my words seems to becoming less and less. I'm a very genuine, honest person and in the past, people in need of an emotional boost would flock to me because I was always there with a compliment. If you have nice eyes, I'm going to tell you that you have nice eyes. If you've lost weight, generally, I'm going to notice and compliment you on your hard work. It seems that as I continue to age, and my peer group continues to age, the world has taken it's toll on people. Now, those same compliments seem to go unnoticed.
My lady friend, whom I refer to as "rockstar" on this blog, is the most incredible woman that I've ever met. She is fun to be around. She is full of life and energy. She is sooo seductive and absolutely sexy. I literally worship the ground that she walks on. I compliment her all the time, not because I'm trying to get somewhere, but because she has no many things that are so right that I just feel compelled to list all of her positive qualities. I will admit that sometimes I'll tell her how pretty her smile is when she isn't smiling just to get her to smile. Let me tell you, when she smiles it's really as if time stands still. She has such a great heart and soul that just radiates in bright, colorful rays outward when she smiles and it really makes you feel fortunate that you were there to witness it.
Sorry, I got off track. Anyway, it seems that a lot of the compliments that I pay this woman seem to "bounce off." I sometimes get the feeling she doesn't believe the nice things I say about her or maybe she thinks there is some sort of agenda behind them. This is a very common tale. As we get older, words just become lip service (sorry for the bad pun). People have been lied to so much as their lives progress that they get to where the really don't believe half the things we say to each other, even compliments about each other.
So, since words have lost their utility, let me tell you what I'm doing right now. I'm lying on the floor of my bathroom, with one hot pad under my lower back. I've got another hot pad under my upper back. My feet are over the side of the tub soaking in warm water while I've got bags of ice on each of my knees. My laptop, fellow bloggers, is on my stomach and I can see the screen because I have a rolled up towel under the back of my head. I ache in just about every muscle group I have. Why am I in so much pain? Today, I laid 1.6 tons (approximately) in a nice orginized fashion for the final step in the brick sidewalk that I've been putting together for "rockstar." I spent all day with my 360 pound stature hunched over and squatting placing each and every one of the few thousand bricks into their proper location. I would have gotten around to finishing this task earlier in my vacation, but I was busy doing other things for her such as hanging a new front door, fixing some steps, doing yard work, and trying to fix an ice machine. In the last few weeks, if I haven't been eating or sleeping, I've been doing some sort of job for her or researching on the internet how to do the job she needed done.
The funny thing is that she has said more than once that I don't have to do any of these jobs to get laid or for us to maintain our relationship. So why do I do these things for her? If words aren't going to do what they were intended then I'm going to have to try even harder to prove to her how I feel about her and how much I appreciate being with her. She can believe me when I call her amazing maybe 40 percent of the time, but EVERY time she walks out her new front door and along her new brick sidewalk (or even when they're her old front door and old brick sidewalk) she'll remember that I thought she was so amazing that I decided to use my vacation time to struggle and sweat as hard as I possibly could just to put a smile on her face.
Physical contact is great. Kissing makes me feel so special. Sex is absolutely incredible, but there is nothing better that giving a little bit of your time, strength, and maybe even a little of yourself in a selfless way for somebody that you care for very deeply. It's what makes relationships so special. In my opinion, communication in a relationship is very important, but nothing tops the lengths one goes to in an attempt to put a smile on the face of the person they care for so deeply. It's with that in mind that my alarm is set so that I can go over to her house and get some more work done before I have to go to class. I'm such a very fortunate man that I can't even put it into words. I guess you will all have to come by and see the sidewalk to know what a special person she really is.
My lady friend, whom I refer to as "rockstar" on this blog, is the most incredible woman that I've ever met. She is fun to be around. She is full of life and energy. She is sooo seductive and absolutely sexy. I literally worship the ground that she walks on. I compliment her all the time, not because I'm trying to get somewhere, but because she has no many things that are so right that I just feel compelled to list all of her positive qualities. I will admit that sometimes I'll tell her how pretty her smile is when she isn't smiling just to get her to smile. Let me tell you, when she smiles it's really as if time stands still. She has such a great heart and soul that just radiates in bright, colorful rays outward when she smiles and it really makes you feel fortunate that you were there to witness it.
Sorry, I got off track. Anyway, it seems that a lot of the compliments that I pay this woman seem to "bounce off." I sometimes get the feeling she doesn't believe the nice things I say about her or maybe she thinks there is some sort of agenda behind them. This is a very common tale. As we get older, words just become lip service (sorry for the bad pun). People have been lied to so much as their lives progress that they get to where the really don't believe half the things we say to each other, even compliments about each other.
So, since words have lost their utility, let me tell you what I'm doing right now. I'm lying on the floor of my bathroom, with one hot pad under my lower back. I've got another hot pad under my upper back. My feet are over the side of the tub soaking in warm water while I've got bags of ice on each of my knees. My laptop, fellow bloggers, is on my stomach and I can see the screen because I have a rolled up towel under the back of my head. I ache in just about every muscle group I have. Why am I in so much pain? Today, I laid 1.6 tons (approximately) in a nice orginized fashion for the final step in the brick sidewalk that I've been putting together for "rockstar." I spent all day with my 360 pound stature hunched over and squatting placing each and every one of the few thousand bricks into their proper location. I would have gotten around to finishing this task earlier in my vacation, but I was busy doing other things for her such as hanging a new front door, fixing some steps, doing yard work, and trying to fix an ice machine. In the last few weeks, if I haven't been eating or sleeping, I've been doing some sort of job for her or researching on the internet how to do the job she needed done.
The funny thing is that she has said more than once that I don't have to do any of these jobs to get laid or for us to maintain our relationship. So why do I do these things for her? If words aren't going to do what they were intended then I'm going to have to try even harder to prove to her how I feel about her and how much I appreciate being with her. She can believe me when I call her amazing maybe 40 percent of the time, but EVERY time she walks out her new front door and along her new brick sidewalk (or even when they're her old front door and old brick sidewalk) she'll remember that I thought she was so amazing that I decided to use my vacation time to struggle and sweat as hard as I possibly could just to put a smile on her face.
Physical contact is great. Kissing makes me feel so special. Sex is absolutely incredible, but there is nothing better that giving a little bit of your time, strength, and maybe even a little of yourself in a selfless way for somebody that you care for very deeply. It's what makes relationships so special. In my opinion, communication in a relationship is very important, but nothing tops the lengths one goes to in an attempt to put a smile on the face of the person they care for so deeply. It's with that in mind that my alarm is set so that I can go over to her house and get some more work done before I have to go to class. I'm such a very fortunate man that I can't even put it into words. I guess you will all have to come by and see the sidewalk to know what a special person she really is.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
3:30 am is a great time to start blogging.....
So, where do I begin? I have a final at 10:30 tomorrow morning and I can't sleep. I was a little tired when I started reviewing at 9:30 so I decided to make myself an iced mocha-chino (with sugar-free mocha and skim milk of course) with a triple shot of espresso. I'm not going to see the inside of my eyelids anytime soon. I'm in the process of this huge life change, which I'll elaborate on at a later date, and I've decided that it's time to start writing about my life. That isn't to say that I'm any sort of role model, far from it, but I've made a lot of mistakes and intentionally done some pretty stupid things that just so happen to be hilarious. I intend to use this blog as a way to share some of those stories and to discuss things that are going on in my life right now.
I wish I could tell you that tonight is one of those funny story nights, but I'm really just not in the mood. Maybe that's because my final is in 7 hours and sleep is nowhere in sight. Since I'm in this exhaustion generated philosophical mood, I guess I'll go ahead and ask the question that's been on my mind recently:
What makes sex so special?
It is the most incredible experience, but what about it makes it so special? I used to only have sex in very serious relationships, so I mis-guidedly thought sex was so special because it was an exercise in love. I was mistaken.
Is it the intimacy and vulnerability that a sexual situation involves?
I've been in therapy for a few months now and its been nothing but intimacy and vulnerability. I can honestly say that I'm not desperate to go see my therapist in the middle of the night when I have the most incredible dream.
I know that sex is so very special, but I have a very hard time describing why. That is one very big problem in talking about sex is that there isn't a common vocabulary. It is so hard for somebody to understand what you're saying when everyone uses different words to describe their feelings. Doctors or mechanics have no problem communicating and understanding each other because they were all educated using the same vocabulary. When we talk about sex, we could all be saying the exact same thing, but it makes us (at least me) feel like we're out of touch with the rest of the world.
For me, sex reminds me of the first time I ever kissed a girl. We had been dating for weeks and I think she was about to dump me because I would never make a move. One night I went to kiss her on the cheek to say goodbye and our lips met. It was one of those moments that felt like it lasted forever. It was one of those moments where I felt like nobody else existed in the world, but us. I have had thousands of kisses since then, but no kiss ever compares to that first one. Sex, on the other hand, is very much like that first kiss. When two people are locked in that moment it's almost as if time stands still. As the passionate kisses and incredible motion are followed by this unbelievable euphoria, it gives you the illusion that all of you cares, troubles, worries, and inadequacies have vanished for good.
A very, very good friend of mine, we'll call her "rock star," firmly believes that the world would be a much more peaceful place is we all just had sex with each other. I don't know if I'd go that far, but I do think the world would be a more peaceful place if everybody had more sex. I can tell you that for the two days after sex I'm bouncing off the walls, giggling, and acting like a kid on Christmas morning. Imagine if the whole world felt that very same way.
As it is now 4am and my final is now 6 and a half hours away, I think I'm going to take a shot of tequila and hopefully pass the hell out!
I wish I could tell you that tonight is one of those funny story nights, but I'm really just not in the mood. Maybe that's because my final is in 7 hours and sleep is nowhere in sight. Since I'm in this exhaustion generated philosophical mood, I guess I'll go ahead and ask the question that's been on my mind recently:
What makes sex so special?
It is the most incredible experience, but what about it makes it so special? I used to only have sex in very serious relationships, so I mis-guidedly thought sex was so special because it was an exercise in love. I was mistaken.
Is it the intimacy and vulnerability that a sexual situation involves?
I've been in therapy for a few months now and its been nothing but intimacy and vulnerability. I can honestly say that I'm not desperate to go see my therapist in the middle of the night when I have the most incredible dream.
I know that sex is so very special, but I have a very hard time describing why. That is one very big problem in talking about sex is that there isn't a common vocabulary. It is so hard for somebody to understand what you're saying when everyone uses different words to describe their feelings. Doctors or mechanics have no problem communicating and understanding each other because they were all educated using the same vocabulary. When we talk about sex, we could all be saying the exact same thing, but it makes us (at least me) feel like we're out of touch with the rest of the world.
For me, sex reminds me of the first time I ever kissed a girl. We had been dating for weeks and I think she was about to dump me because I would never make a move. One night I went to kiss her on the cheek to say goodbye and our lips met. It was one of those moments that felt like it lasted forever. It was one of those moments where I felt like nobody else existed in the world, but us. I have had thousands of kisses since then, but no kiss ever compares to that first one. Sex, on the other hand, is very much like that first kiss. When two people are locked in that moment it's almost as if time stands still. As the passionate kisses and incredible motion are followed by this unbelievable euphoria, it gives you the illusion that all of you cares, troubles, worries, and inadequacies have vanished for good.
A very, very good friend of mine, we'll call her "rock star," firmly believes that the world would be a much more peaceful place is we all just had sex with each other. I don't know if I'd go that far, but I do think the world would be a more peaceful place if everybody had more sex. I can tell you that for the two days after sex I'm bouncing off the walls, giggling, and acting like a kid on Christmas morning. Imagine if the whole world felt that very same way.
As it is now 4am and my final is now 6 and a half hours away, I think I'm going to take a shot of tequila and hopefully pass the hell out!
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
In the beginning..... How sacreligious is that?
One summer in college, I worked for one of my fraternity brothers mowing lawns. We were mowing at the Nazarene church in our hometown and I had taken a break to refill the lawnmower. I took this opportunity to talk to the beautiful, young lady friend of mine that had stopped to chat. As I was chatting away and very distracted by her very large, round “features” I scraped the gas nozzle against the rim of the tank as I removed it the nozzle whipped around and splashed a substantial amount of gas into my face; specifically my eyes. I threw my hands firmly to my face as I shouted every curse word I knew, and even made up a few! “Shit, fuck, god damn mother! Fuck god! Oh god!” The preacher ran out of the church and calmly explained to me that god could hear the filthy words I was saying. I turned to him and replied, “Then that means that god watched while my distracted dumbass managed gasoline into my eyes and didn’t do anything to stop it! So I’m not particularly concerned if I offended anybody that would watch that happen and do nothing.”
I don’t know where I’m going with this story, but I can tell you from experience that questioning religion, or even blindly, wholeheartedly committing your life to religion you don’t fully understand, is what I like to call one of the million items you use to fill a size 62 pair of pants. What does that mean you might ask? Well, you see, nobody is born clinically obese, or an alcoholic, or a drug addict, a sex addict, a family-less workaholic, or even a criminal. Lots of people, smarter than myself, will talk about “nature versus nurture” and how much of our behavior is learned versus how much is engrained into our psyche, but I can say with absolute certainty that there aren’t any babies that are born that wear size 62 pants. You see, there isn’t just one bad choice that causes you to be fat. If only it were so easy that we could just find Marty McFly from Back to the Future, hop in his Delorean, and go back and tell ourselves not to pick up that donut or that glass of scotch, or that hit of cocaine when we we’re at a moment of weakness in our lives. Instead of one bad choice that ruins our lives, it’s this progression of bad choice after bad choice until we get to a point that it’s nearly impossible to correct our path.
Though I’ve traversed the gambit of all sorts of addictions and self-destructive behaviors, obesity is the one that was going to kill me. When I look back and try to think of all the bad choices I’ve made, I struggle to find a number. So how do I quantify it? Well, I’ve counted to a thousand before, and I’ve had one hundred thousand of something before so I guess a million is the first number that I really can’t conceptualize. So, for conversation sake, we’ll say that at my worst I filled my size 62 pair of pants with one million small mistakes. The problem is that you have to remove as many of those items as you can to get those pants to shrink and that is easier said than done. These tiny mistakes are all intertwined, like the cables behind your computer or television, and it takes focus, self-awareness, perseverance, and most importantly patience to whittle down those 62 britches to a more suitable size.
On December 24, 2007, the beginning of the better half of my life, I weighed in at 507 pounds. For 10 years at that point, I had succumbed to a family history of mental disease, specifically depression, and the fog that I had been living in had caused my life to completely spin out of control. I had been living in an efficiency apartment where I had hung bed sheets to block out the sun and the walls were lined with stacks of pizza boxes and newspapers from the floor to the ceiling. In the middle of my “fortress of solitude” was an old, worn out mattress and box springs that sat on the floor, because I’d broken the frame 50 or 60 pounds ago. I had my big-ass TV perched as high as I could so that whenever possible I could just lay and watch TV and zone out of my quickly deteriorating life while my garbage protected me from the evils that lurked in the world just outside my defenses.
I got started at a residential weight loss facility in Durham, NC. It was a great place because their program didn’t have any tricks to lose weight. The nutritionist was very straightforward. “You weigh this much, you’re this tall, you’re this age, you plan to exercise this much while you’re here. Well then here is the lowest number of calories that you can eat safely.” With that magic number in mind, I started planning my meals and they would prepare them. I quit drinking alcohol and soda. I quit smoking (yes mom, I smoked. Sorry!). I was drinking a gallon of water a day and exercising two hours a day. Inside, they had classes on proper nutrition, cooking classes, life management, meditation, and group and individualized therapy sessions.
After 1 year and 1 month not to mention the 6 weeks I spent in North Carolina, I have lost 172 pounds! None of those 172 pounds was ever lost because of surgery, starvation, or trick diets. It was all lost the good old fashioned way with hard work, determination, a lot of sweat, and painstaking planning! I’m still counting calories and I’m in the gym about 8 hours a week doing either weight training, boxing, yoga, or training for the Indy 500 mini marathon. I’ve plateau-ed pretty hard at 172 for a while now. I’m still slimming up all the time, but the scale seems broken. I’m not worried about it though because I’m really not dieting. I never did and I never will. For me, this is a lifestyle change and I give my body what it needs based on how busy my life is and how heavy I exercise and the weight loss is just a byproduct.
So, after a year, I’ve managed to shrink to size 62 pants down to size 42’s that I bought the other day from Old Navy. It was the first article of clothing I’d bought myself outside of a store specifically for fat guys since I was in high school! In keeping with the theme of the million mistakes inside my big-ass pants, I’ve managed to get half of that garbage out, but half still remains. The part I worked off we’ll think of it as the poor mistakes that my daemons tricked me into making. Now, if I’m going to make any more improvement in my life, I have to tackle those daemons, faulty ideals, and misconceptions and re-learn what it means to become a man.
Writing is my creative outlet so this blog is my therapeutic release. I need to relive my mistakes and that ugly trip down to the bottom of the barrel so I can learn where those daemons are hiding so that this whole voyage to hell doesn’t happen again. I don’t care who reads my blog, but all of my readers should understand that I’m telling these stories so that I can see them in proper perspective and to have my story heard, because everybody’s story should be told at least once. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, colorful ones at that, but I’m not proud of any of them. Please don’t think that I’m writing this for sympathy and I’m definitely not trying to tell people how to live their lives. I’m just trying to keep fixing mine.
Finally, the terms “Queen” and “rock star” are for describing my amazing girlfriend and “princess” is her seven year old daughter. These two women have taught me so much in such a short period of time. If you want to read an incredible story, read her blog. She is truly my source of strength and my inspiration and if you read her story you’ll understand why. www.rosieblankenship.com .
Enjoy the journey! I’ve found that it goes down a lot smoother with a beer or two….. Of course that would be light beer, specifically MGD light 64, and with a designated driver!!!!
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