This is the rawest, truest post I’ve ever written. Be warned.
I keep things positive here, mostly, but it’s usually not hard. I’m a positive person. It’s my natural inclination. I am, without trying, a rosey-glasses/half-glass-full optimist. But as this post proves, I have my days. And weeks.
I don’t suffer from depression. I’ve read posts from people who do, and I’m thankful that I do not have that cross to bear.
I do suffer from ED. (Eating disorder, not erectile dysfunction.) Specifically, I am a binge eater. I have been for decades. I thought I had it beat.
I was wrong.
This is a hard blog post for me to write. I’ve started this post several times over the last several weeks, and I haven’t been able to finish. But I have to.
It’s not that writing the blog post is that important. I have maybe five readers. It’s that I have to get this out. I could just as easily write this on a sheet of paper and burn it. I need the catharsis.
I’m a failure.
Not even a month ago, on April 24th, I wrote that I weighed 362.0 pounds, but I was going to get on track! I’m going to do this! For my wife and baby!
And I haven’t. That means I have failed. For them.
My weight is up. Way up. I’ve been mildly binging.
No, it’s not the days of six Wendy’s Jr. Bacon Cheeseburgers on the commute home from school, but it’s still bad. Whether I’m gorging myself to feel something or simply eating food to delay the inevitable, it’s binging and it’s dangerous.
We just got back from vacation. I weighed myself this morning.
My highest weight ever was 402.8. My lowest weight ever (as an adult) was 249.0.
Wow. That’s all I can say about that at the moment.
I’ve done enough therapy work (both on myself and with others) to know that, for me to stop this, I had to know why. For the past two years, I haven’t really known. And then, while mowing the yard yesterday, it hit me.
I suspect that losing weight won’t make my life perfect.
Now don’t get me wrong – my life is pretty awesome. Love my wife, love my son, love my career… But even yet… I still expect things to get better. I expect a better sex life (TMI, but true), I honestly expect my career in academia to get better, and I expect to become a personal trainer (side business) with a booming clientele.
And what if I lose weight, all the way down to goal weight, and that doesn’t happen? Then I’ve failed.
It’s the same thing that kept me fat pre-Tina. I was fat because it kept me from dealing with the ramifications of being alone and unloved. Well, with the help of a therapist and friend, I got past that issue, met Tina, and I started my family. So that excuse is gone. And I’ve gone off and manufactured another one.
So what if I’m not good enough?
What if I had my exact life, right now, except I was at a healthy weight? If that, then I would be one of the luckiest people in the world.
I’m not going to try. I know words are cheap, but when you hit rock bottom (again), well… nowhere to go but up, right?
I was tempted to delete this blog, get a new address, and start over. But I’m not. I’m still on my Stellar Path. I just sat in the gutter beside it for a while. I’m back on.
I need a game plan. It’s early on Saturday morning. My family is still asleep. I’m about to shower, go into Weight Watchers, and weigh in. I’ll face the scale – even if I’m not going to like what it says.
I will do this. In the past, I would have included a picture of little guy and said I’m going to do it for him. And while that’s true, he’s not the #1 reason I’m doing this.
This guy is.