Counting

After careful reflection on yesterday's post, I offer the following list of names:

Phill, Arleta, Karilyn, Phillip, Keith, Kim, Kenton, Gerald, Joetta, Carlyle, Julie, Kate, Rod, MaryBeth, Kristina, Dwaine, Sherry, Richard, Ruth Sh., Dorvin, Madilyn, Ruth Sc., Theron, Paul, Emil, Dale, Viv, Lynn, John B., Steve, Bruce, Patty N., Jim, Chris B., Margie, Kenton M., Tami, Rick, Orlin, Debbie K., Marlin, Kari, Marilyn, Sean, Jeff, Cathy, Sherry Kn., Mark Kn., Leslie, Patty M., Jeremy, Courtney, Crystal, Danny, Jerry, Marianne, Uncle John, Verla, Diann, Dawn, Farida, Monica R., Diana, Patty W., Sonya, Dickson, Jason, Kris, Gary, Kathleen, Calvin, Deb S., Nicole, Celine, Marsha, Marcia, Beth, Sue E., Deb H. Debbie L., Charles, Sue L., Henry, Rachel R., Missy, Brent, Karen A., Amanda, Big Clyde, Coralee, Lauren, Mariann, Sandy, Joel, Mark S., Wendy, Sherm, Don, Elizabeth, Ruby, Ellis, Elnora, Orvan, Orville, LaJane, Kurt, Rachel, Randy, Cindy, Arlen, Barb, Chad, Marcella, Dan, Wendy E., Karen N., Sue, John S., Gyneth, Monica B., Korey, Billy, Sandy M., Scott, Doug, Dawn S., Liz, Wendy X, Jeff H., Janet, Paul B., Dave, Vi, Ruby, Jay, Deanna Beth, Chris H., Teresa, Duane, Becky, Delbert, Kate Y., Wanda, Al, Jeanne G., Mark vL., Judy, Katherine, Carla, Jennifer, Bevan, Sharon, Kristi, Deb B., Mikey, Don S., Patrick, Raf, Angel, Linda, Jim Y., Phyllis, Jill, Karla, Scott, Paul, Melissa, Scott P., Jeannie, ....

That's 160+ people in my life that do care, that do give a fuck.

I know I left many, many people off the list, but this isn't bad for 10 minutes worth of remembering.

The price of rain

My soul is tired.

I have done my best this year to keep it together, and keep it together I have.  But at a cost. It is a price I was willing to pay for my wife’s health and my children’s well being.  I would gladly pay it again.  I have no buyer’s remorse.

That price is my own well being.  Now that the crisis is over, I find myself falling. Failing. Tearing. My soul is tired, my head is heavy, and my heart is sad.  I am feeling the weight of my depression pushing down.

And so I eat.   

And I eat.

And I know it is counterproductive.

I know I will hate myself in the morning. Or in the next hour.  Or right now.

Last evening I overate just on this side of a binge.  I made conscious decisions to eat.  It wasn’t mindlessly done.  It was purposefully done.  And the right hand guy would ask “why?” and the left hand guy would say “who gives a fuck?”

And at that precise moment, for that half hour of carb induced inebriation, the right hand guy answered:

“No one.” 

Today, in the light of the day, I know I am not alone. But it often feels that way.

And right now I am not strong enough to keep it together.

Way In and In Brief

Today: 296#
+/- last check in: -3
+/- baseline: -24

In brief:

• Still not much to say
• Started new job (promotion).
• Wife's healing is on track.
• I am not wearing a hat.

Glimpses of darkness; Discovery of light

I've not had a lot to say lately.  Well, that's not true.  I've not had a lot to say lately about my weight loss and self discovery journey.  My mind and thoughts have been elsewhere.


I find that I write a lot about hating myself.  I enjoy writing the conversations with the Left Hand Guy.  Those are real and visceral expressions of what is going on inside my mind.  But when I get right down to brass tacks...I don't really hate myself.  I am often, perhaps constantly, dissapointed in myself.  I often don't like myself for making the same mistakes and bad judgement over and over again.  I often tell myself self defeating things, especially about my weight and whatnot.

But the truth is, I think I'm a nice guy.  I think I'm a good guy.  I like the man I've become and I've been working on it since I was 14.  That's when my dad sat me down and told me that he was done raising me.  He said, "I've taught you right from wrong.  I've taught you how to treat others.  I've tried to teach you integrity and honesty.  But from here, it's up to you to determine what kind of man you want to be."

Now, I'm sure I'm relating that story with some dramatic effect, but that is gist of what he said to me some 25 years ago.  And of course he wasn't done raising me.  He still isn't.  What he was doing was letting me go...just a little...to find my own way.  And I did, eventually.

It is, to be truthful, difficult for me to say that I love myself.  My own baggage and depression make barriers.  But I do like who I am.  Right now, in life, I'm happy with who I am though I am discouraged by my weaknesses.  My weight and my emotional control with food are some of those perceived weaknesses.  But I'm learning I am not helpless in those areas either.

These are the kind of thoughts that have been on my mind.  And it comes on the experience of my wife's journey.  I had never known the depths to which someone could truly hate oneself; to truly be filled with emptyness and blackness; to truly not see one's beauty inside or out even after having been with her for 20 years now.  I have glimpsed this in someone that I love and it breaks my heart.

It gives me perspective.  And it gives me a source of strength to know this about myself.  And it gives me a foundation to work on while I make this journey with my wife.

Like I said when I started this post, I find I write a lot about hating myself.  What if that is just a crutch, an excuse to continue on this road without finding any destination?  A shell to hide what I really feel and am afraid to experience?  Self love. Self success. Genuine pride and genuine humility in oneself.  These things can be scarier to write about than self hate.