Drama and Silence.

The last 4 months have been crazy. That’s an understatement. Well, actually, no it isn’t. That’s probably exactly the best way to sum it up. I have had a crazy few months.

When I set out to document my journey from fat guy, to svelte vixen, I had some rules I sort of outlined in my mind. One of which was that I would be 100% open to the world about everything. My struggles with health are monsters of my own design. This struggle has primarily been a mental issue. Of course, we all need some physical adjustments. However, most of the reasons I am fat, revolve around the fact that I make bad decisions. So documenting my struggles has been good for me. Every time I write a post, at least one person messages me to tell me how they relate to part of, or all of, what I said. Some people have advice, some people have similar experiences, and some people just contact me to say “thank you”.

One person in particular stands out. One woman reached out to me, and I found it to be a somewhat unlikely connection. Her name is Krysta, and I know her because her sister was once married to one of my best friends. I feel I need to set the scene a little, with some back-story on Krysta. Krysta is fucking stupidly smart. She always kind of intimidated me, so when her name popped up in my Instagram messenger, I was a bit nervous. I was a worried she was going to point out some holes or contradictions in one of my posts. She is very good with words too, so I would be outmatched if she wanted to call me to task on something. I am so glad she reached out to me though. We ended up discussing my blog for a while, and she had some great points for me, all in regards to my own possible effect on myself. The conversation was long and covered her view on this topic well, but it was one of her simplest comments that gave me pause; “I wonder what would happen, if you talked about yourself with kinder words”. This is so simple… but it has sat in my brain for weeks now. Am I the reason I struggle with self-esteem? Do I subconsciously sabotage myself by being overly self-deprecating? The answer may be yes. I am the first to celebrate other people’s accomplishments, and the first to make jokes at my own expense. I need to strike a better balance. Yes, I can be a total shitbag.. I can be lazy and do stupid stuff… but I can also point out when good things happen. I think there is something to this. I think this may be part of why I face such big setbacks in my progress, as well as why I tend to withdraw when truly impactful things happen to me.

This all leads up to my crazy few months. I was toying with the idea of glossing over this period. I was going to begin writing again as if nothing had happened. As if I hadn’t disappeared for 6 months. However, this spits in the face of why I started this in the first place. I feel that sorting out my thoughts and being transparent, makes me better. Humor, and relating to people, and sharing my life are the best way for me to regain perspective. I feel most of us over inflate the gravity of serious issues, and it’s healthy to take a step back and focus on the rewards of getting through the hard times.

There were two major issues that I faced these last few months. I tend to be a bit dramatic, so I will try to discuss these issues in a sensible way.  

1)      Back in May, I almost fucking died!!!! Fuck. That’s already a bit dramatic. Also, somewhat incorrect. Lets try that again. Back in May, my blood tried to kill me!!!

a.       I had been getting nose bleeds for a few weeks, and had some headaches… neither of which happen to me. But it wasn’t until my assistant manager noticed my eyes were actively getting blood shot in front of him, that I decided to go to the Dr at lunch. Turns out my blood pressure was 230/190, which is well above what their charts called “Hypertensive Crisis”. Within minutes the nurse had my shirt off (BTW, porn has lied to us about what comes next after a nurse demands you take your shirt off)  and they were hooking me up to electrodes to monitor my heart. I wont give you all the details, but it turns out I had a blood infection that was causing my kidneys to malfunction and cause my blood pressure to sky rocket. I had to take medications and refrain from exercising for 2 months. It was a bit scary to be honest. My doctor was very clear that I was in real danger of strokes or heart attacks. I was on the blood pressure meds for 4 months before they were confident enough to take me back off. After months of antibiotics and Lisinopril, I am officially healed. I have been cleared

2)      I lost my job

a.       I guess saying “lost” is a bit disingenuous. I mean… I know where it is. I didn’t misplace it. I know where the physical job is located. I just don’t occupy it anymore. I was asked politely to leave and never come back. This part is true. It was a polite process. The owner of the company actually hugged me on the way out. I was relieved on some level, because I wasn’t happy with this job. The atmosphere was awful, and I was already looking for employment elsewhere. So while the separation was mutual, it was still stressful to be sent out on a career ice float to die in the abys. No matter why a job separation occurs, or how long it lasts, there is some uneasiness that accompanies this kind of transition. I felt like I was in the middle of a shit storm. First, I had a health scare, and then I become unemployed. This was a low period for me. Although from point of termination to accepting an offer for 2.5 times the wage, was 23 days, which made lessened the stress.

This is why I have been absent for a while. I was a bit scared. I spent a few months being worried about my health due to the ups and downs that accompany trying to regulate my blood pressure, as well as fight an infection. My body felt insane. Internally schizophrenic. One second I felt fine, then all of a sudden, I would feel jittery and uneasy for a few hours, and then immediately start falling asleep and becoming foggy brained.  Then as soon as I dodge that bullet and started to feel better, and feel the relief that I wasn’t going to die, I lost my job and I was unsure that surviving the health scare was the right move. However, this is exactly when I should be writing. I need to gravitate to the catharsis that comes with being open. Both of these incidents caused a great deal of stress to my life, and both ended up being ending perfectly fine. Life has a way of figuring itself out. I could have been dealing with the stress as well as keeping my mind in a better place, had I just been writing and making sure I spoke about myself with kinder words.