Determined To Succeed

Hey, everybody. How’s it going on this Friday? Well, I hope. I wanted to share something with you guys that was inspired by a random visit to my local ACME grocery store on Ash Wednesday. I really do believe our loved ones are with us wherever we go and no matter whether your parents are with us or not that it helps trigger for you a wonderful, warm memory that takes you into the weekend and brings the sun out in your lives.

According to Wikipedia®, the song “If I Knew You Were Comin’ I’d've Baked a Cake” was a popular song written by Al Hoffman, Bob Merrill and Clem Watts published in 1950. As with many songs before and after, it was recorded many times in many countries by many artists over the years (even including a 1969 version sung by Ernie to Cookie Monster on the very first season of a little show you might have heard of called Sesame Street). The big hit version of the song was recorded by Eileen Barton in January 1950. The recording was released by National Records and when the song became too big a hit for National to handle, it arranged with Mercury Records to help with distribution. The record first reached the Billboard Magazine charts on March 3, 1950 and lasted 15 weeks on the chart, peaking at #1.

Why do I bring all this up? Why am I mentioning a song that hardly anyone remembers anymore and is sixty-one years old this year? Simple. On Ash Wednesday 2011, I just happened to be at my local grocery store and a woman who easily is in her mid-to-late sixties (at least) was bantering back-and-forth with her co-worker and she sang that song. As she sang the main part of the song she smiled widely and bopped side to side having fun the entire time. I could tell she was remembering how much fun she must have had as a child listening to that song on her record player and singing it with her friends, you know, like the kids do nowadays with their fancy-schmancie iPods.

“If I Knew You Were Comin’ I’d’ve Baked a Cake…”

Instantly, I felt a memory rush back to me that I had long forgotten. It was from my childhood. It was of my sweet mama, JoAnn, singing that song to me in our apartment in Hyde Park. I don’t remember what would have prompted her to sing the song (maybe it was one of our birthdays or somehow we got on the subject of cake) but I now remember vividly her singing the song to me. And it wasn’t the only time she sang it. We were at our local grocery store one day and she burst into song there, too.

“If I Knew You Were Comin’ I’d’ve Baked a Cake…”

I am ashamed to say I also remember how I felt at the time as she sang that song to me. I thought it was silly and thought my mom was a bit loony for doing it. I mean really, who comes up with lyrics like “If I Knew You Were Comin’ I’d’ve Baked a Cake” anyway? Moreover, when we were in public I felt embarrassed that my mom was singing out loud this silly, weird song and all I wanted to do was walk away until my mom stopped this wild, wacky behavior. However, in retrospect, she must have felt as the grocery clerk did on Ash Wednesday. My mom must have remembered how it felt to connect to a song when she was a child (she would have been eleven-years-old at that time) and how much fun she must have had listening to it on her fancy-schmancie contraptions of the time, most likely her radio. As the memories came back I pictured her as she sang to me, smiling widely, bopping back and forth, trying to get me to smile.

I came home and told my girlfriend, Laura, about what had happened and I almost cried. I told her about the woman in the store and how her singing that silly song brought up such a powerful memory of my mother and how I just miss the sound of my mom‘s voice. Sure, I miss everything else about my mom, too – her smile, her laugh, going to the movies or to the store – but most of all, I miss her sweet and tender voice because when that voice wasn‘t trying to reassure me that everything was going to be O.K. with the world it was trying to make me smile and laugh with silly, goofy and weird old songs sung out loud at home and at the store.

Well, Ma, the smiles were there, then and now.

Ever since that day in my local store I have thought about that song, singing the refrain in my own head. And thanks to computers and websites like YouTube® I can not only hear it but see Eileen Barton sing that song (well, at least see a photo of her as a recording plays over my speakers). Hell, I can even see Ernie sing the song to Cookie Monster and remember what it was like to be a child having fun and singing silly songs because that was our job at the time, to laugh, have fun and play. Moms know that. It’s part of what makes them moms. If it’s our jobs to have fun then it’s their jobs to keep that party going because, as all of us know, childhood ends too way too soon and memories like that give way to the pressures and thoughts of the real world, kind of like Neo being awakened by Morpheus in “The Matrix.” But for a short but magical time we are children and our moms are gods, leading the party of smiles and fun because no matter how much money you have (or how much money we didn’t have) mom have that special something that always make us smile and laugh. At least mine did.

So thank you, anonymous grocery store clerk. The next time I see you I swear I’m going to tell you all about how you brought up that memory of my sweet mama and her singing that song to a little boy in Chicago and making him feel loved beyond reason. And thank you, Mama, for being brave enough to sing to your little boy even if it did embarrass me in public. You always seemed (and still seem) to know when I need (ed) a smile (I know it was your spirit who guided me to hear that clerk sing it that so I could hear it and remember and connect with you). And to all you kids (and adults) out there who think it is or was stupid that your parents sang silly little songs to you to get you to smile, wise up. That is how parents become our Higher Powers, it is how they lead us, connect with us and protect us. Most of all, it is part of how they love us, and believe me when I tell you on this grey and gloomy overcast day in southern New Jersey…when the singing stops and you have to fight to remember the party of smiles you miss them more than words can ever express.

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Day one-hundred-fifty-six.

Happy new week, my friends, and welcome to the second full week of 2011. As all of you know I live in southern New Jersey and, if you’ve kept up with the weather maps and forcasts recently, you know we here are expecting another 4″ – 8″ of snow. I know I am fond of saying this alot and throwing my Chicago-ness around, but you should see and feel the anxiety of others who live here, their “the sky is falling” mentality taking over over what will amount to less than a foot of snow.

When I was a kid, they only closed the Chicago Public Schools once (that I can remember). It was for the Blizzard of 1979 during which 16.5 inches of snow fell on January 13, 1979 alone, setting a new record for snow in one calendar day. By the end of January 14, 18.8 inches of snow had fallen. That blizzard was so powerful that it resulted in the election of Jane Byrne, the first and only woman so far to be elected mayor of Chicago. In a special election, she defeated Michael Bilandic, who took over after the death of Mayor Richard J.Daley, because of the city’s badly-planned-and-executed response to the snow.

Yes, Chicago received more than 10-inches of snow more than the most this area is expected to receive over the next 24 hours. Sigh. When I was in the store yesterday buying healthy stuff to eat like salad fixins, healthy lunchmeat and veggies I surveyed the crowds all gearing up for the threat of more snow. I even overheard that a local dentist’s office was calling patients to tell them they had already decided to close on Wednesday (our snow is expected to start tonight) in anticipation. Sigh again.

It’s all “milk and eggs” in this part of the country but I guess that’s just me. But what the hell does this have to do with my weight or weight loss? For starters, I am back up a pound-and-a-half which pisses me off to no end. Next, no matter what the snow fall is I am getting my rotundness to the gym to workout today, tomorrow and every day after no matter the amount of snow.  But I have to silently hide my origins and mask my shame as I ask the attendants at the gym if they will even be open tomorrow due to the (sigh) expected snowfall.

It’s O.K., though. Weighing in at 248.9 today I am more than happy to don my snow shoes (well, sneakers – or gym shoes as we call ‘em back home) and barrel through whatever snow falls to be able to get on the elliptical to burn off this extra poundage. One of the 40/40 I listed was to absolutely get back to my goal weight and I’m gonna do it, despite my over-zealous eating habits over the weekends.

In other words, I don’t go running to the store to buy my milk, eggs and bread afraid of what might be coming, I just deal with what is happening and what actually comes as best I can. That’s all any of us can do in this world – and in this world of weight loss.

Oh, and thanks to a good friend of mine I have a correction I’d like to make to last week’s blog.

Last week, as I told you guys about seeing bald eagles in the wild, I mistakenly called a grouping of multiple bald eagles a “flock.” This, apprently, is not the case. I actually saw a convocation of eagles. If they had been hawks I would have seen a cast of hawks. Or if those hawks were spiraling in flight they would have been a boil (funny thing to call a grouping – makes me think of soup, especially on cold winter days).  Also, owls are a parliament, crocodiles are a bask  and did you know that if you’ve got a group of frogs, it’s an ARMY!!

Awesome! See, every now and then you can learn something by reading my weight loss blog, even if it doesn’t necessarily pertain to weight loss.

Or maybe it’s just my way to mentally prepare going to the gym today?

Either way, have a great day, my peeps. Talk to you soon (hopefully lighter than I am today).

PS: A big birthday shout out goes out to my mom, JoAnn, who on January 9th, would have turned 72. Happy birthday, Mama. I love and miss you very much.

Hello and happy new week and day one-hundred-twenty-eight, my friends. I know. I know. I promised I would write yesterday but the day got broken up more than I thought and I didn’t have the time I thought I would have. I am so sorry about that. But here I am, back at my keyboard, raring to go.

Gasp and sigh. I am 40 now. I achieved that milestone birthday on December 12th. However, while others lament turning 40 I am embracing it and am very proud of the short little grey hairs on my chinny-chin-chin and the “salt” that is starting to be sprinkled in with my “pepper.” But even though I was (and am still) looking forward to 40, I had something of a health scare. As I mentioned in my last blog, I have been diagnosed with diverticulosis.  It was so bad doctors had to be called and I was in the hospital for a few days. This is not exactly how I wanted to start prepping for my 40th birthday…not by a longshot… and everything, including this weight loss blog, had to be put aside for a bit so I could properly recover. This meant not being able to exercise. Add to that that I had to eat and, well, you can imagine the sigh that came out of me when I stepped on the scale and saw 248.9 on my scale.

Sigh, indeed.

That is of little consequence, though. Not only did I get through the worst health scare of my entire life (ironically, save for the time when I was born and had to be hospitalized for pneumonia and bronchitis) but I will be able to do everything I did before, including exercise to re-lose this weight. Yes, that means I know I will re-lose that weight again and that I had to gain it back to help my body get better. Sometimes we need that trade-off with ourselves so we take proper care of ourselves.

Did I mention I have to drink metamucil and take an iron pill every day for the rest of my life, too?  I am becoming an old man (O.K., that was a joke, and the metamucil makes a kick ass pink lemonade).

My friends, I have a slightly different perspective today than I had in months past. I am lucky to be here and that means knowing I have to take care of my health first and foremost in all of this and if drinking that stuff and taking it easier is what I need to do to stay on this planet then, dammit, that’s what I’m gonna do. I will be getting back to exercising, too, don’t get me wrong (after all, I do want to re-lose this weight also to be healthier) but I will be doing it as I can so as not to over-exert myself as my body builds itself back up again.

Yes, this 40th birthday of mine has been full in introspection, prayer and relief. I am lucky to be here on this planet and I thank God every day for that. I also thank the spirit of my mom, JoAnn, for looking out for me the way she always does. Moms are always there when you need them and my mom was right beside me, too. What does that all mean? It means I am going to make the most of this new lease. I will exercise. I will eat better (and more fiberous) foods. Most of all, I will embrace my life, especially now that I am 40 so that I can say – WAY THE HELL DOWN THE ROAD WHEN I AM 95 – that I made the most of the life I have and this is just the physical part of my rebuilding to go along with the mental and emotional rebuilding parts. And as the rest of me gets this “tune up” I am thinking ever so much about the 40 things I want to do at 40, a list I will be sharing with you guys tomorrow.

For now, I’m just going to thank God some more that I am here looking at a pretty, albeit chilly, day here in southern New Jersey and that I made it to 40. Now is the time to seize life and not take it for granted anymore. I’m going to write today, take care of a few errands and just be thankful about the ability to drink metamucil. Oh, and if you know and/or feel something is wrong GO SEE YOUR DOCTOR!!! I can’t stress that enough.

Day one-hundred-ten.

O.K. So? How did you do on Thanksgiving? Did you go off half-cocked and eat your fill? Or did you go off fully-cocked and clean your plates twice (and finish off others’ too)? I actually did O.K., but just O.K. I had one big plate of food, but just one. I had no dessert (I couldn’t have fit it inside me anyway – after all, my body is not Doctor Who’s TARDIS) but hours later I did have a small plate of fresh leftovers. In the end, like I said, I think I did O.K., and later today I will be working out. Or should I say working off (smile)? No matter the case, I enjoyed Turkey Day 2010, but now it’s time for serious work.

I said in my post on Wednesday that sometimes the holidays are about weight maintenance, and that is the truth. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve prayed to the food gods to NOT gain weight. But that’s not how things work. The only way things work is when I make them work, plain and simple. That goes for all aspects of my life. All our lives, really, including food.

My biggest problem has always been portion control. It’s a thing that goes back for me to when I was a kid. My mom, who always did her absolute very best and worked so hard, did put food on our table, but there were times we both had less than what we wanted. There were times we went a bit hungry. That’s how I came to hoarde food, a trait I carried with me into adulthood. Sigh. Old habits die hard, I guess. Really, really hard.

So, as I surveyed the bounty on the table yesterday I gave thanks to God for the good things in my life, gave thanks for being able to become a better person, gave thanks and prayers for and to my mom, JoAnn (who I imagined had just as bountiful a Thanksgiving in Heaven as I did here) and gave thanks for the food in front of me. Then, I took a breath and decided I was only going to have one plate of food.

After all, no one was going to take my food away from me.

Now it’s the day after and I am thinking about returning to normalcy, returning to my routine of working out and eating smaller portions. Thanksgiving is an amazing day but today is another day, a Friday (and hell no – I didn’t go out at 2:00 a.m. to shop for Black Friday specials), a day leading into the weekend and you guys know how I sometimes fear the weekends. Sigh again, but it’s all O.K. It’s O.K. because, one, I know that Thanksgiving is a day to be enjoyed, food and all. Two, because weight loss and maintenance is all about getting into (or back into) routines and that is what I will be doing. What, I think, we will all be doing.

So, have a wonderful weekend, my friends in weight loss. I am also thankful to all of you, as well. We are all in this together and I am human. I love my turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and everything. But today is another day and this is another weekend, and by the time you next read me I will have worked out three times…and hopefully eaten less, too.

Day ninety-two.

Happy Monday, everyone. Well, I barely – BARELY – survived the weekend. It wasn’t horrible but it wasn’t great either. First, I ended up eating waaaaaaaaay too much on Friday night for dinner. I did aright for breakfast and lunch. Following my egg and sausage half-sandwich for breakfast I had a bagel for lunch (since I knew I was working out on Friday afternoon with Sensei Doug). But for dinner, fuck! I ate like a pig. It was taco night and there should be a law about how good jalepenos, onions, salsa, cheese and taco meat taste on a tortilla. Yum!

Saturday,  I was honored enough to be a part of the first-annual walk for pancreatic cancer in Fairmount Park, Philadelphia, in honor of my mom, JoAnn. It was heartwarming to be surrounded by so many people who could understand that bitch disease while, at the same time, being there in positive support of all our loved ones, friends and family afflicted. It was a wonderful three-mile walk and one I will do every year, as I can, to remember the best lady in the whole world.

I love you, Mama. So much.

For lunch, I ate a wonderfully-prepared omelette (if I do say so myself) and some bacon and toast while for dinner I polished off the remainder of the taco stuff. Yesterday, for breakfast had some Pillsbury cinnamon rolls (the small ones, not Cinnabon size) and coffee while having a selection of finger foods (cheese, hummus, bread, chicken) at a great wine tasting. That ended up being my dinner (in addition to the few bite-size Snickers I had watching a Netflix flick) which was O.K.

What does all that mean? It means that, overall, while it wasn’t horrible it wasn’t great BUT I did end up weighing the same today as I did on Friday and that is a Godsend! I am still at 239.9 and am soooooo looking forward to working out today. This week also will be interesting because I will not be visiting Doug for my mixed martial arts sessions so I will have to maintain my workouts  on my own, no obligatory classes to make. But I will do it. As I told him I have my “homework” and I will do it.

So I start this week feeling pretty good. I am firmly ensconsed in eating at home and drinking Coke Zero (instead of regular Coca-Cola). I am going to workout four or five times this week to keep that up. All is good. Could this weekend have been better, of course. I could have exercised AND eaten better. However, life is to be enjoyed and I enjoyed a bit of life this weekend. If that means having two small pretzels with mustard on Saturday night (which I did), or having delicious pepper jack cheese cubes, hummus and bread with wine, so be it. I am living life and I will not ever, ever again, whether it be in my weight or any other way, take life for granted. It is short and precious and should be fully, fully appreciated.

On Saturday I felt my mom with me as I walked through that park with all those people. It wasn’t sad. It was the feeling you get when walking with your parents when you’re a kid. It was safe and warm and happy. And as long as I keep up with my better eating and exercising I will be able to have that feeling for decades to come.

Day forty-seven.

Here it is, my friends. The end of another week. Boy, this one went fast! Didn’t it? At least it did for me. I have to say though, overall, it was a great week. My weight is down, I am eating better and working out consistently. All very cool things indeed. But I have to be honest. One of the best things about eating less and cooking more is how much freaking money you save.

Just this morning I made scrabled eggs and grits. Yes, grits. I loooove grits. They are awesome and I’ve loved them since I was a kid. I first had them at my mom, JoAnn’s, best friend’s house. When my mom dropped me off during summers so she could go to work, Rosalyn (a wonderful and sweet lady) made all us kids breakfast. She’d make eggs, bacon, maybe a pancake or two and grits. To this day I love grits, especially sticky ones. Hot sticky grits with butter and salt – now that’s good eatin.’ But I digress…Where was I? Oh, saving money and cooking breakfast. Right! Anywho, so I made breakfast this morning and had some diet V-8 Splash and thought about the money I saved eating in versus eating out. Let’s compare. Shall we?

Since this is New Jersey and not many restaurants at all (even in the diner mecca of the nation) even serve grits. So I have to do my comparative using a chain restaurant – Bob Evans. Not only do they have kick-ass breatfast (and awesome sausage) they serve grits. Now, if you were to go to Bob Evans and order what I ate today, which was two scrambled eggs and a bowl of grits, you’d pay in the neighborhood of $6.41. I know this because I called my closest Bob Evans and spoke to an incredibly rude service guy who seemed put out that I just wanted a price. Well, I compared that to spending about $3 per 24 oz. container of my grit-zy goodness and about $3 or $4 for a dozen organic, free range eggs (depending on your store). That means for the cost of about one-and-a-half meals at Bob Evans you could have 6 meals worth of eggs and grits. Not to mention you will have waaaaaay more grits than just six meals worth. I just counted six because a dozen eggs divided by two eggs per meal came out to six. Let me put it another way – to have six meals at Bob Evans, again consisting of only two scrambled eggs and a bowl of grits, you’d pay a whopping $38.46! Do you know how much more food that would buy you? Lots!

I am also starting to do this with my daily coffee and muffin habit from good old Dunkin’ Donuts.  One “Number 2″ at DD, which is a medium coffee and muffin, costs me $3.21. A box of muffin mix, which can make about a dozen or so large, Dunkin’ Donuts-sized muffins, will only run you about $3-ish. Now the muffins I have need only water and come with blueberries and raspberries (yum). A bag of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee from Target will run you only $7 or so bucks. So for about $10 you could have at least a dozen breakfasts from DD. THAT’S TWO WEEKS! Compare that to the $38.52 you’d spend for the exact same thing at DD. Damn. You can see how eating at home is a helluva lot better than eating out.

OK, was today’s blog a bit preachy on cost/benefit. Yep! But I promised I’d help you all out there with tips and this is a pretty good one especially going into the weekend when we ALL shop for groceries for at least part of the week. It may seem like you are spending tons at the store but when you apply that and figure out cost per meal you end up saving sooooo much money in the long run. Not to mention it feels great to have a heavier wallet, especially since I want it to be gaining weight, not me.

Have a great weekend. Talk to you Monday.

Day thirty-nine.

I have a neighbor whose name is Hector. He lives just around the corner from me and he’s a friendly guy. He is always walking around the neighborhood saying “hello” to people and he always has a smile on his face whenever you see him and every day Monday through Friday he is off to enjoy a day’s worth of activities someplace nearby. Seeing Hector and hearing Hector makes me feel lucky in so many ways every single day. Why? Because Hector is physically and mentally challenged.

I am not sure exactly from what or which challenge Hector suffers but it’s clear. Whenever I see Hector he always says “hey” and I always say “hey” back but what I really want to say is “you poor guy. I am so sorry you are afflicted the way you are.” But does he or would he ever want my pity? No. He, I assume, would just want my simple understanding that he is different. That’s all. Of course he can’t run, jump or even carry on a conversation at the level you and I are used to. But in Hector’s disability comes an incredible ability – the ability to just smile and try to appreciate the life he has.

I am quite sure he and his family go through the same things other families go through when a person can’t take care of themselves. They get frustrated, angry, nervous, anxious and tired and want some type of “vacation” away from the responsibility for that level of care. My aunt told me as much taking care of my mom, JoAnn’s, during her final months and in a letter or two after she died. It is a hefty burden, indeed, to care for someone that way but it makes me think about where my life has taken me in these almost 40 years.

Over 40 days ago I was in the throws of addiction and didn’t know how, when or where to get help. But thanks to the catastrophic failures I experienced I am now on a path of sobriety and recovery. I can again really taste food, enjoy it, enjoy being outside, exercising and more…and all because my heart, mind and soul are all now one again and in the same place. It’s sad, though. Before, when I was much sicker, I never thought about the lessons Hector could teach me. Now that I can think clearly I can see the absolute lessons God, my mom’s spirit and the universe are throwing my way.

Life is just too fucking short sometimes. You hear all the time about teens having their lives cut short in accidents or by health conditions about which they didn’t know. You see on the news horrific stories about people disgruntled at work grabbing a gun and blowing people away (which unfortunately happened recently in the Philadelphia area) just because of disagreements and perceived animosities. And you see all the time people who need help just walking down the street but who give it their absolute best because they are trying to cling to what’s left of their independence. But here I was pissing my life away with addictions, which did include food, wasting the gifts I was given for such a long time.

They say youth is wasted on the young. Well, so is health sometimes.

I would dare me, you, kids these days – anybody – to trade places with Hector for just five minutes. Use some sci-fi machinery to switch bodies for just five minutes and I would bet you anything, ANYTHING, that each and every person who did that would forever appreciate even the simplest of gifts like mobility and speech, gifts we all too often take for granted. In these sobering days I am soooooo appreciating life in ways I never imagined before because I could see where my life was going and where I would have ended up. I have always said to you I know I would have died sooner and not later if I stayed at 400 pounds and I will believe that until the day I see my mom again.

Why am I so down today? I’m not really, for if you listen you will hear the voice of someone who is breathing again and someone who is loving life and who will always do his best from now on to live each day well and appreciate everything in it. Even the simple ability to type out this silly weight loss blog every damn day is a gift, as is the gift of being able to exercise, take my mixed martial arts class and keep my weight in check so I can enjoy activities I’ve never done before. I will also no longer be bad about my eating because I don’t want to gain that weight back for if I did, that would be spitting in the face of all we work so hard to do every single day to maintain weight loss. It would also insult my mom. No,  I will not squander life and it’s gifts, including time, ever, EVER again.

So, the next time you are down about anything go for a walk, exercise, write a letter or talk to a friend. They may seem like simple things to you and me but these are all things Hector can’t do. And just when you think life isn’t going your way remember I know one guy who lives just around the corner who, I’m sure, would be more than happy to trade places with any one of us in a heartbeat to live the lives we live and be free from his own limitations.

Day Thirty-Six.

I am sitting at my computer today not really knowing how to write today’s blog. I had a great and very positive weekend this past weekend anchored by three(!) twelve-step meetings. While the one on Saturday morning was a bit different all of them grounded me in my reality now, especially knowing there are so many others who know what I’m going through (particularly with the food and eating aspect of things). However, as wonderful as the meetings were they were not the highlight of the weekend. That came yesterday morning when I awoke to the sound of softly falling rain. That moment, for me, was peace on earth.

But how do you describe peace? I don’t know, especially since we all have such varying definitions of it, but I will give it a try. Imagine you have just woken up from a wonderfully restful sleep, the kind of sleep where not only had eight hours sleep but you FEEL like you had eight hours sleep. Now, add to that rest the sound of silence, a silence that includes no street noise at all – no cars passing or horns honking. Just silence. Even the birds outside have taken a moment to take in the serenity of the moment. Now, add in the final element – the sound of rain. Not torrential rain, but a steady, moderate and softly falling rain hitting the trees and their leaves in such a way that you can almost see a rhythm to it, a pettern, as you envision each leaf as it welcomes a raindrop onto its surface.

For at least a good twenty minutes yesterday that was my world and it was the most beautiful the world has been in such a long time. If I could have recorded that to play back when I was feeling stressed I would have. The last time I felt that perfect communion with nature was when I spread my mother, JoAnn’s, ashes in the park I played in as a child. It was raining like that on that day, too, and I was instantly transported at that moment to when I was a kid just sharing a walk in the park with my mom. That was also the last time I felt whole and like a complete human being…that is, until now.

My weight is up again (I am at 240.9 today) and of course I am put off by that. Anyone would be, especially when they think, like me, they’ve been doing so well. But I know I will be O.K. and like I am always fond of saying today is the day I get back on the path of eating better, watching my portions and exercising. But the why of why I know I will be O.K. comes from being sober and comes from the fact that my mind, body and soul are all now in one place at one time and open to hearing sounds in their purest form like the sound of rain falling early on a Sunday morning.

I know there are so many of us going through tough times. I hear examples of those tough times each time I attend a meeting. But whether or not you attend meetings or not, and no matter if your struggles are only about weight loss or not, keep a hold of your peace – that one thing that brings you back to center, grounds you and makes you feel whole and calm again. It may be the briefest of moments, or it maybe stopping to enjoy a specific memory. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you have something to hold onto when you feel the noise of the world bearing down on you. For me, it happened the day I said a final good-bye to my mom in physical form and it happened again yesterday and it’s moments like that I realize what a true gift life is and how I intend to appreciate it from now on.

That is such a beautiful way to start a day and I wanted to share that serenity with you guys, especially if you have to go back to the hustle and bustle of the week. But take heart. If you are on a weight loss journey, like me, you will lose it. If your journeys are deeper, like mine, you will travel them well and bravely. How do I know this? Because I truly believe there is peace in this world and if we are open to receiving it, in whatever form it comes, it will bring us the breath we need to keep us going no matter what we have to handle in life.

Thanks for letting me share that with you this morning. I hope you have a great day no matter what you do. Just promise me you will take a moment today and listen for that peace. If you do, odds are, that peace, whatever it is for you, will find you, too.

Day twenty-four.

Happy September, everyone. Man, yesterday I was both a mess and euphoric. I admit, when I’m sick, I’m a bit of a baby especially since I don’t get sick very often. And while it wasn’t the full-bore cold it could have been it was enough to sap my strength, make my head all poofy and have my throat all scratchy and in pain the whole day. On the other hand, I took care of myself, something I haven’t done really for a long, long time and part of that care involved two things: taking myself for a nice walk in the clean, hot air and going to a twelve-step meeting last night.

I was very torn about the walk. I had zero energy and motivation to get up from the couch and I sure as hell didn’t want to get ready and dressed to walk outside for an hour. But I had to clear my head. Not just physically because of the cold or because I felt like acting out or anything, but because I was mulling something over in my brain. I was thinking about everything and needed some time to commune with nature and my mom, JoAnn’s, spirit to help me be calm and relax. Later, I attended my twelve-step meeting which, I have to say is a wonderful way to re-juice the soul because it’s great knowing you have the fellowship and support of the people around you on any given night.

Whenever I sit in that room and listen to others I gain new perspectives on things. They help me turn things over in my brain and center me and last night’s meeting gave me a good idea of what pain is like from the perspective of someone experiencing it. I have to tell you how powerful that is, and how humbling. It strips away every piece of bullshit inside you and makes you feel something which, for many of us, is for the first time in years. Feeling the pain of others makes me realize and understand the pain I have put people through in my life. I may not be able to fully make amends to those people but I sure am trying the best way I know how – going to these meetings and getting the help I need.

I can only imagine that other addictions are the same at their core. You crave X and will do anything – lie, cheat, hurt people, shut yourself off – just to have X. That also goes for food. But with addiction, the more you spiral down into it the more shame you feel, therefore you withdraw more and more into your world, alone and broken not knowing how to get out.

After feeling the sun on my face yesterday and after going to my meeting I felt present. Yes, it does hurt to hear these things and yes, it does hurt facing them but any addict needs to if they are to get out of their own personal abyss. It needs to be felt because our emotions have been out of it for so long and it does cause others great pain. That goes for food, drugs, alcohol, whatever. If recovery were easy it wouldn’t work, plain and simple. Put another way, we addicts need to feel to know what it’s like to be a human being again, one that’s not driven by a drug but one that is driven by being a feeling being.

That is why I was euphoric. I felt that pain yesterday. I felt it. I wasn’t distracting myself and it felt good. That’s why I didn’t give in to the temptation to just be a slug on my couch. I got up and walked. I did that to take care of me in my recovery from being under the weather. And I went to my twelve-step meeting to take care of me in my recovery to heal as a human being to try to be a good and decent man.

I am starting to come back down in my weight, too. I am at 235 even today and that feels amazing. I can feel that excitement again. I have a measly ten pounds to go to re-achieving my goal weight and I will one day. I will because I recognize what it’s like to turn off and medicate and numb yourself to reality. However, now I am facing reality for the first time and it strengthens me, thank God. That goes for my weight loss journey, too. I was so worried about handling one addiction I was turning back to food as comfort. I just realized it and got a handle on both, that’s all. And I was able to do that because the pieces of my soul that had been gone for so long are now coming back and making me here and present and alive.

It’s amazing what a person can do when they have their soul back. It is. That will give me the strength to kick that bag today and that will give me the strength to carry on in weight loss and in recovery. And in the end, I won’t be a mess anymore. I will be healed in body, mind and, most of all, spirit so I never again fall into the dark abyss I was in for so long.

Day eighteen.

Today I am a bundle of energy and a bundle of nerves. What a way to start the day. You know that feeling. It’s anticipation, that feeling when you are expecting something or waiting for something to happen but don’t quite know when it is so you sit and wait…and wait some more.

Yesterday I met with Dr. John, the first of two appointments I had and I have gotta tell ya, it was a meeting well-worth going to. He was awesome. In just five minutes of talking to me his experience told him so much about me that I sat there, dumbfounded, at how much he could read me like the pages of an open book. He told me about behaviors, and he told me about addictions and addictive traits. Most of all, though, he challenged me. He challenged me by slicing through my bullshit and hitting me with one gut-wrenching but true fact.

He said, “Bill, because of your addiction, you are only using 20% of your full potential.”

It’s not easy when you’re told how much better you could be if you didn’t piss away a portion of your life wasting time on something that had such control over your life like this did mine. What he said hurt and it was on my mind the rest of the day. Not necessarily in a bad way but in a “wake up” way.

I used to be so fucking arrogant. I always used to think I was better than most people, especially people you can look at and say “damn, they look fucked up, don’t they?!” The “rode hard, put away wet people” who look drugged out and knocked out even when out in daylight. Why do I say this? Because one of the reasons I am in this predicament is that I was arrogant enough to believe I was above this kind of shit. I went to college, got a degree and used to hold a $70K-a-year job. I hung out with people who were not like the people you see hanging out on street corners. I hung out with like-minded, well-educated people who talked politics and drank martinis, not baby-mamas and daddies who couldn’t put together a cohesive sentence if they tried. I was arrogant, conceited and just plain wrong, and in the end I learned I was no better. Not only that, I was worse because I knew better! I had access to all the resources in the world. I just chose to ignore it all for my addiction. That’s what an addiction does to you. It puts you in a leaky-ass boat on the river of denial without a paddle.

I once thought my accomplishments were pretty cool, and some of them are. I’ve met people who were pretty important, politicians, celebrities and the like, and have done things I am very proud of (like having the Chicago Sun-Times print the American flag as a pull-out page so people could show the flag after September 11, 2001 or helping a mom give her dying son the experience of a lifetime simply by setting up a movie screening). But these are moments, moments that showed signs of the potential I knew I could reach but never did because I was afraid. Stupidly but plainly afraid, and part of that fear was letting go of the addictions in my life.

When I started attending twelve-step meetings I was nervous so I sat and observed minor details, like that the meeting was comprised of this many women and and that many men, some older, some younger, some white and some not (there was one woman who was Filipino, I think, and one black guy which, with me, made one-and-a-half black guys, I guess). And they all looked normal. And ain’t that a shitty thing to say, “they looked normal.” Like you can tell what an addict looks like on sight. But as I am being honest here (truly, a new thing for me) and since I am trying to keep this as real as I can I was half-expecting to see people who looked like they did crack as a hobby or never left the world of Dungeons & Dragons and used the internet as their own personal girlfriend or boyfriend.

But that’s not the truth. The truth is the people I saw and met looked like the people you stand in line with at the store, take your orders for crappy merchandise on the phone and do your taxes. They are normal every day people who were nice, accepting and non-judgmental. In other words, they looked just like you and me. People like your neighbors, friends and family members. People who are in front of you at the drive-thru in the morning and behind you in church on Sunday afternoons. We are everywhere and we need help and I, for one, am so glad I finally admitted it to myself and others.

That is why I am a bundle of energy and nerves today. I am ready. Finally fucking ready to not be a coward any more. You see, honesty in any shape or form was such a foreign concept to me and lying such a way of life that anything honest, truly honest, felt wrong. I even made attempts to stop my behavior and failed and that shame held me back. My actions held me back. But I am not accepting failure anymore.  I am committed to getting well again, gaining control over my life and being my mother, JoAnn’s, son again. And I am finally ready to live up to my fullest potential not just in career but as a human being. I am.

This road we travel is a scary one but I am doing my best to hold my head up high and make that inventory of myself to make sure I never do the things I’ve done again. And everything I’ve said here and the past three weeks is absolutely applicable to weight loss, it is, because food can be an addiction. It certainly was for me. And once we restore that sanity, regain that control and live up to our fullest potential we can achieve our goals and dreams.

My name is Bill and this is my on-going story. Thank you for listening and thanks for letting me share.