Monday, January 14, 2013
“It ain’t about how hard you get it, it depends on how hard you can hit and keep moving forward.” Weight kicked my ass; I’m not going to lie. There was the actual weight, the physical weight, the weight that kept me from getting moving to get it off. There was the psychological weight, the depression, the sadness that came from not having things to wear. There was the emotional weight of divorce, of losing out on a relationship with my daughter from that marriage. I lacked the confidence or the wherewithal to have one. She didn’t deserve me and I didn’t deserve to be happy. It was my fault…all of it, for everything. I failed. I failed at a lot of things growing up, after I reached adulthood and left the house. The only thing worse than my lowest was death. Taking my own life was a distinct possibility. I thought about ending it all and leaving this mortal coil; my lasting impression being one deep ass foot print.
Who would that serve? How would that make things any better for anyone? I had never taken the easy way out before. When I was 17-years old, I went to an intensive wrestling camp. It was run by University of Minnesota J. Robinson. It was 14-days of pure hell. The first day, after our work outs were done, I called my parents (10-hours away) and told them I wanted to come home. I told them this was too hard. I cried a little. My Mom was sympathetic, but my dad got on the phone and told me to tough it out and there was no going back. 212 campers started, 109 finished. There were no refunds. That is over half of the campers gone because it was too hard. This camp was more than wrestling. It was about hard work, dedication, respect and everything I learned from those two weeks helped me tremendously on and off the mat. That year, I was an All-League center for football, I placed 5th in regionals (top 4 go to the State tournament) and I was one of the top 40 high school baseball players in the State of Washington, playing in the All-State series. I attribute that all to the wrestling camp and the things I learned there.
As I looked through dozens and dozens of photos this weekend, a lot of them throughout my sports career, it hit me that I am not any different, at least mentally, than I was then. In fact, I have more knowledge than I ever did then. Life is a little more stressful, of course, as I have more responsibility. However, I never said can’t back then. There was never an option of not finishing what I started. This weight, both emotional and physical, is only temporary. I will drop the weight. I will get healthy. I will have a relationship with my daughter. I will show my loved ones who I am and always have been, even if it is under a blanket of flub. I will be an example. I have put so much off for so long. When I got into Nursing school, I had certain expectations I set for myself. I wanted a 4.0. I ended up with a 3.83. I don’t consider that a failure. I wanted to pass my boards on the first try. I did that. I committed myself to success, and I met that. How much different is nursing school to weight loss? It isn’t. It requires discipline and dedication. If I can conquer school I can conquer my weight. I was healthy once. I can be healthy again.
I don’t have a number on the scale that motivates me. I don’t have a waist size I am shooting for. I am more interested in trends. I want the right numbers to go down. At this point, I want those trends to occur every week until it is normal. One week at a time, one day at a time, one pound at a time. I am on my way towards being a better person, a better father, and better husband and a better nurse. I suppose being better replaces my number. Being better involves being healthier; developing good habits. Doing those two things, I know the number will be there, whatever that ends up being. I am accountable to myself. I was once before, and I now know I can be there again.