There aren't many moments in my life that I can remember that don't have a good chance to bring me to tears. Many are good. Most, in fact. A few bad ones, but none that can be assigned to a person -- more of a series of events that seemed to coordinate together to bring something that was less of a chance to be associated with happenstance than a force intending for certain to bring me down a peg or two.
I had a moment recently that straddled the edge of being good and bad. The outcome was good, but the way it made me feel was bad. Bad in the same way that a friend tells you that you're an asshole when you don't know it, or get fired from a job because you've become too relaxed in your desire for progression and advancement. One of those moments where you realize that somehow things got away from you, and it got to a point where someone had to tell you. That's the worst part -- for all the things I pride myself in, the awareness of myself is among the highest. And yet, I didn't only not see this coming, but wasn't even remotely prepared for how it was going to impact me.
I sat in the office of my boss's boss, and had to clear up a bunch of work things causing me a great deal of stress. At the end of clearing things up and feeling positive in my direction moving forward, the executive insisted I take my seat again, because he needed to talk to me something not related to work -- at least not directly. Of all the things he said, the thing that stuck the hardest, and impacted the exposed nerve the most was this: "You're not of use to anyone if you're dead. You can't help anyone like that."
"Of course," is the immediate response, but it was a point I'd never put into my mind as a motivator. So much that I hadn't considered what this meant in the more immediate short-term. All the previous warnings I'd received were along the lines of being 60 or 70 and dying before hitting 80 or 90, and I'm not going to lie -- I didn't mind those thoughts that much, because a lot of detrimental and uncontrolled things happen to people after 70. Alzheimer's, Osteoporosis, etc. are the types of things that make life seem so much worse. You have your prostate to worry about, and your other organs begin acting up. Avoiding the colonoscopies and the general deterioration of the body toward the grave with a sudden cardiac arrest didn't seem all that illogical to me. I hadn't given up on marriage and kids, but I'd made my peace with the idea of it not happening. I still look, talk to, and ask people out, but I don't often get positive responses. So, dying at 70 or 80, without anyone necessarily relying on me just seemed... merciful. To everyone. Nobody to have to put up with taking care of me, or me waging a war on someone's heart from not remembering them, and be a surly old shithead. It really didn't seem that bad. Not much to motivate me there.
But I had noticed something in the moments leading up to this feedback. I wanted to lose weight... like REALLY wanted to, but couldn't find the energy/motivation to do it. Like the voice saying, "don't eat that," had as much bearing on my actions as my shouting, "don't go in there" to the person on the screen in a movie theater. It wasn't even on the same plane of existence. And I could feel my body wearing down and out. Nights I would go to sleep, wondering if I'd wake up the next day. The feeling that I had crossed a line that was the "point of no return," and just didn't realize it was that bad. Pictures of me next to others started hitting me harder, seeing the size difference. I didn't feel that different, but it was obviously there. Feeling like I was inching toward death, and not being able to stop was a horrible feeling. And while I was being drug toward it like an unwilling participant in an experiment with a Buick 8, this guy, who is a brass tacks sort of dude, and doesn't come across as sentimental, pulls me aside and says aloud what I've been denying is happening: You're dying dude. I want to invest in you, but not if you're already dead. Give me a reason to invest in you.
And I pulled hard against the door frame of my mind, planted my feet and pushed back against the force pulling me back. And said No to death, to dying, to spending the next x amount of time in a state where I don't know if I'd wake up after my next sleep. I could get hit by a bus tomorrow, but don't want that to happen because I'm not in good enough shape to get out of the way. If a bus kills me, I want the bus to have to work hard to take me out -- I want the ability to fight death at the cusp of existence, and give him a run for his money. I want death himself to be afraid to come and collect me, knowing what I'm capable of. And right then, hearing that feedback, death was dragging me to the grave, and I couldn't muster even a whisper to say "stop."
I've tried walking down this path so many times and failed that I feel insane trying again. However, with each failure comes a lesson learned. So now I'm putting those lessons learned to work. I'm not following a particular diet. Regardless of the diet I fix on, I find loopholes for myself to break out of them and make them not work -- I can't help it. I find what's wrong and break them. That's just how I do. And what's more, I like that about myself. So, no specific nutritional makeup for my diet. If I want to eat a burger and fries, I'll do it. The only limitation I have is for calories. Keep it to 2000 calories. No more, no less. If I have a burger and fries, that decision makes all the others for me. I don't have to say, "maybe I can have a candy bar now," because I'll know I can't afford the calories for it. It will also motivate me to prepare my own food, since food prepared for me will typically be made to taste awesome, at the expense of massive calorie changes. So if I want to eat a lot, I need to govern that myself. I can still eat fastfood, but not very much of it. My decisions answer any future questions I have, so I can't dwell on unhealthy thoughts.
Tracking what I eat is tedious and not helpful for me. When dieting, I know what I've eaten throughout the day. I'm hungry a lot, and I remember my last meal, and look forward to my next one. I don't need to write it down. If I'm uber concerned about its contents, I'll look it up online, and then just remember it for future reference. I don't want each bite or craving to require me to stop and analyze and study out if I can do it. That will make me feel more like a prisoner, and as much as my body is a prison, I know I'll try to escape instead of serving out my time if I can't find some form of enjoyment from the time. So cravings are satisfied, and the days become limited to a cap of enjoyment before I stop.
I also know the rewards need to be inviting, but attainable in contrast to the goals. For as long as I can remember, if I have a distraction, it will always lull me into a trap where I will accidentally disappear into it and realize later that I've made a huge mistake. So I took my computer down and put it into storage, which was a large task, and a workout by itself. Now, I don't have it to distract me for hours, when only minutes go by in my mind. I only have the real-time distraction of not being in-shape to keep my mind on things I can do to avoid having to exist in such a miserable state. Now, I can still paint, do woodworking, exercise, go on walks, meditate, sleep, or really whatever else I want, as long as it requires more exertion than wiggling my fingers around. Even standing is more strenuous, so that's worth it.
If I have things to NOT look forward to, that's a motivator also. I'm going to Scotland in 6 weeks, and the plane ride over is not going to be comfortable if I'm leaking into the person's seat next to me. A month after that I might be going on a cruise, and I'd like to feel more confident that my body won't ruin anyone's lunch, despite my feelings that I'm sexy as all get-out. A month after the cruise is a conference in Anaheim that I'll be attending, and I'd love some vindication at Disney Land, since the last time I went, they had to pull the Space Mountain cart off the track and let everyone off, claiming the cart needed work done, but really had to pull me aside and tell me I was too big to ride the ride. I want to go back on that ride, not for the sake of riding it, but for being able to be allowed to ride on it.
I know those will motivate me enough to get me through the beginning of October. And if I lose the weight consistently during that time, I'll likely be the lowest weight I've been in over a decade. And being down that much will be a motivator to see where I can get by the New Year, and the elusive New Year's kiss from someone other than a crazy person, like previous years have provided.
Because the one correlating piece of data that I've refused to acknowledge with my anxiety, is my weight. I believe that when I started lose control over that aspect of my life, my anxiety began to be a problem, or even exist. I believe the loss of weight will allow for the alleviation of anxiety in my life. That means easier traveling, more confident living, and less concerning decisions regarding my daily activities.
So, with all of what I know about me in mind, while someone might REALLY like the Southwest diet, or Garth Brooks Juice Diet, or Keto, or whatever else the fad diet, or newest wave of health discovery is claiming to be the best, I give all power to them to continue with what works for them. The reason so many diets work for so many people isn't that they all work for everyone -- it's that they all work for individuals who find they work. This is mine. A simple diet of calorie-restricted eating, and not being distracted from that.
So instead of playing games, I turned my journey into a game -- an RPG, to be more precise.
When playing an RPG (role-playing game), you first emerge from a great hall, castle, cave, or some other magnificently scaled structure, and are washed in light to see all the other characters in the world capable of amazing things. Depending on the game, some are riding horses, or shooting arrows, or flying on dragons, or doing magic. And as a Level 1 character, you can do precisely nothing. You can run past all these characters and marvel, but not DO. And you quickly see what stuff you want to do, and lookup what it takes to do them. And you might find it will take 4 hours of dedicated work each day for a year to ride around a three-headed dragon, and just look awesome, even if it doesn't make the game easier -- the aesthetic of riding a dragon instead of running is worth it. So you grind for 4 hours a day for a year so you can ride a dragon from mission to mission, instead of running. And boy, is that satisfying.
As a gamer, I wanted the rewards to be exciting and satisfying. So, I put everything away. Even some exercise equipment. I want to earn the right to exercise harder. I want the possibility of putting down the stick I'm swinging in favor of a boulder to make me friggin excited to play with a rock, since the nature of playing with a rock from someone who has a computer seems dull and boring. To rid myself of those kinds of abject disappointments from the game that is governing my life, removing everything yields itself to finding excitement in even the mundane, simply because it is "new."
I have rewards set in place for weight loss in pounds. The same for percentage of body fat. The same for strength increases. The same for things like exercise, maintaining my diet, and generally taking care of my body. As I pass off certain requirements, I unlock more of what I lost in favor of making it easier and more efficient at losing weight, and doing something more with my time than the current version of nothing that is keeping my mind in the mode of, "constant aerobic activity."
And while I'm recording this 10 days after I started it, I've already lost 18 pounds. Some might argue it is water weight, but I've done what I could to drink close to 200 ounces of water each day. I'd find it hard to agree with water weight as the cause for the loss. From a math perspective, I know I'm burning close to 5500 calories a day with my typical work routine, without it including exercise. With a 2000 calorie diet, that means without exercising, I will have a 3500 calorie deficit each day, or 1 pound lost. When I exercise, I burn more. And since I've been exercising, and staying active, I'm down 1.8 pounds each day on average. And that feels good, and sustainable.
And today, I've unlocked my first reward, for hitting 460 pounds. I was using just aerobic activities, like calisthenics and walking, to get my sweat on, with the aid of some resistance bands. But that was it. Today, I unlocked some small free-weights. Nothing huge, but is about 25 pounds of weight on each dumbbell. So now I can do some small arm, shoulder, back, and leg exercises with them. I'm excited to get home to get my muscles to burn against gravitational resistance over the pull from the resistance bands.
At 440 pounds, I will unlock some larger free-weights, that can be adjusted up to 200 pounds, and allow me to really push hard. Beyond that is a weight bench I have, but can't use until 420 pounds. Inclined and declined activities to strengthen my core and alleviate strain will be welcomed. And after that, my 400 pounds reward is a punching bag that weighs 100 pounds, but feels great to put my force into and watch it fly off the ground and shake the frame holding it in place.
As I go down, more and more exciting things are unlocked. Body fat losses correlate with trips to see family and friends, and also to more exotic locations to show off my body's newly sculpted form. Strength increases allow for massages, and spa getaways to relax and reward the hard work.
I have rewards for consistency -- days worked out, water drank, and taking care of my body. Rewards for consistency reward me with books or music I want.
I currently don't watch TV or movies. If I want to watch a movie, I have to walk to the theater. If I want to play a game, I have to walk to work. So if I have cravings, I can sate them, but they cost time and effort.
My final achievement is passing off some form of physical fitness test. Maybe some obstacle course or something to show I'm in shape. The reward for this is something I've wanted to build, but haven't had space to. A room. A room I can soundproof and pad. A place to bounce off of and roll and jump and scream, if necessary, and just generally be free. A fortress of solitude. Train, sleep, soak, or strain at my leisure. Environment controls to feel like the arctic, or the worst day in Arizona's summer. Body monitoring and measures in place to shut things down if I push too hard. Just be free as my heart desires. The thought of it really gets me excited. I don't know why, and know others won't appreciate it or even understand it. That's my anticipation.
It is happening this time. I can feel future me reaching out and assuring me. He's never let me down before, so I know it's true. By this time next year, I will be a mere shell of what I am now.
