Don't read, if you don't want to know
Current mood: blank
Category: Life
You know, you always read about how people wander around submitting themselves to all sorts of arcane or strange rituals to cleanse themselves. I mean that is what Scientology preaches about in case you were ever curious. Yes, I read that damn Dianetics book. Anyway, the central idea that I am trying to convey here, is that I feel better when I write about my past or emotions. While the majority of men adhere to the silent, brooding type that tend to self-destruct, I like being emotive. Heck, I am of Italian descent! Did you expect anything less?
So, that being said, it is time to share a long standing pain. I have shared the most embarrassing moment in my life, the deepest regret, and now I feel that it is time to share something that I struggled with since I was a teenager. This is not easy for me to write about and only two people know the depth of my struggle. So, I am not too sure how this will be accepted, but I need to end my hiding so that it may help others should they ever read this.
The causes of childhood obesity are numerous now, but my weight gain was a direct result of an unhappy childhood. Mom and dad spent an inordinate amount of time trying to hurt each other and us, which I still can't fathom, but have long since tried to understand. One constant in the world is that there is seldom a good reason for the stupidity that people do to themselves and others. Anyway, I bloated fast after the age of eight or so. As one relative recently criticized, my ages are slightly off, so if I am wrong then think of it as artistic license on my part.
Anyway, I suffered the slings and arrows lobed at me by my peers as does any fat kid. I have to say that I fell back on the standard defense, which was that I was not fat...say it with me people...I was big-boned. A la Cartman...lol. Well, Sears Huskies seersuckers only entrenched in my mind that I was not a fat kid. However, at the tender age of 13 and weighing in at 195 (my present weight), I was no lightweight. What is it that spurs any of us to undertake herculean feats? That motivating factor that makes us climb mountains, fight lions, and take up exercise. Ah, a person of the opposite sex. I was soundly thwarted in my amorous advances (gee, I was 13 in a more innocent time, so that meant hand-holding or something). Anyway, this young lady, who might I add is not doing well in her love life and is now like I was then...okay, a little gloating...let me know that fat is not fit. So, time to get my athletic on, to use a variant of the current vernacular. I took up sports.
Nothing says loser like getting cut from the baseball team.
So, after much hemming and hawing I waddled my fat ass over to the track team, where Coach Arlin Jividen, who is the closest think to a father-figure that I ever had, too me into his fold of runners. I was no runner and the first day was and remains the closest that I have ever come to dying. However, those that count me first among equals, know that I am a persistent bugger AND a glutton for punishment. Right, Wind?
Well, I actually lost weight over those three months down to a svelte 185.
I have an addictive personality, which I have consciously recognized only recently in life. So, if some was good, more was better. My great love affair would come later in my life, but my first lover so to speak, was something much more cruel and jealous than anyone I could ever met. As I went through the Summer of 1983, I lost more weight until I was down to 155. I joined cross-country that Fall and did well. Such successes, however, fueled my desires for popularity and normality ever greater.
That Winter, the Winter of MY discontent, I hit a personal low as a teenager. Family life was non-existent. I was alone most of the time hence my fear of being lonely. I seemed to have taken on the cares of the world for my parents, who were now divorced and still bitterly attacking one another through me. My energy centered on getting good grades, because I knew that I needed scholarships to get into college. We had no money to speak of. Furthermore, the constant drumbeat of how I better learn to work with my hands made me sick. So, I took on a friend. I guess today children and young adults cut themselves to feel something. I didn't know about that then; otherwise, I am pretty sure that I would have done that. Instead, my desires to be fit and to disappear worked in concert, I opted to indulge in anorexia and its sister. Sorry, I can't write it.
It takes much more willpower than you can perceive to slowly starve yourself. It isn't as easy as you think, because the body is cruel. It will heighten your sense of smell so that you can smell food in almost the most minuscule amounts. I remember being able to smell peanut butter from two rooms away if it were opened. The constant gnawing at your stomach, well, I liken it to the beating of the heart in the Tell Tale Heart. I heard it all the time and went down to 114. Thinner.
In time, I managed my illness in high school, but like alcoholism, it is never cured. Do not let anyone you know that suffers from this tell you otherwise. Because it is an addictive game that you play with yourself: How low can you go?
Graduation from high school was a pretty decent time for me, because I had filled my time with running, school, and constant attention to my weight. However, I knew that I could be normal. It was like the dreams you have where you are running so hard, but not getting anywhere and the monster is moving closer and closer. I felt that way. I knew I could, but my friend was always getting closer.
College was too much fun. However, I was always remaining just heads above water. There were the frequent relapses.
While several years elapsed without incident, and I mean a return of my friend, it was always there --and I recommend seeing Beautiful Mind to understand what I am talking about here. There was never a physical manifestation, but you know. Anyway, I had built a pretty strong facade about me. I am tough, no bones about that, it is my strongest attribute, so getting in SF was a pinnacle achievement for me. However, a few years back, I had the worst visit from my friend than I have ever had since I was a teenager. The stresses returned ten-fold and I was unhappy in my life and marriage. I had held on to uphold a promise that I made. I am loyal unto death and my promise is something that I take with the gravest of solemnity. So, I started losing weight again. I was weighing a little over 210 lbs when I started to take it off. It moved so fast. One moment I was normal, the next I was on a self-imposed 1200 calorie a day diet and running 60 miles a week. In no time, I was down to 160 or so. Man, I was hungry. It is a horrible feeling. This isn't your simple, gee, I wish I had a burger hunger. I cried from the hunger. My friend's sister showed up again and then I realized that I was spiraling out of control.
I don't know when it happened, and I don't know why it happened. Maybe I needed to feel that pain at that time to teach me a lesson. Perhaps, I had gotten too cocky and providence needed to put me back into my place. Whatever the reason, after 9 months of starving myself to tears, it ended. I just sat down at a dinner table and eat like there was no tomorrow.
I believe that a person must struggle with their inner-demons. Life is struggle from cradle to grave and without conflict we can never ascertain what kind of person we are. In another time, maybe I would have flagellated myself. What I do know is that I watch myself closely, because these things never go away. Sometimes, I hear that Sirens song, but I am stronger now and don't listen too hard. Instead of a gale, it is more like a gentle breeze. Also, sometimes for whatever reason, we just let friends go.
I don't require pity, sympathy or sorrow. My struggles are my own as are my emotions. Love hard, live hard, and leave no stone uncovered in your life. I am a strong man, who is not afraid any longer to write about his struggles. I own my emotions now instead of them owning me.
Ecco Homo
