From Fat Boy to Slim. Chapter 3 — “Escaping the black hole”

From Fat Boy to Slim. Chapter 3 — “Escaping the black hole”


That’s not just a number. It’s a purgatory.

I am starting to wonder if I’m ever going to move away from this plateau in terms of my weight.

A plateau is defined as “a state of little or no change following a period of activity or progress.” For the record, this is my second week at 236. It is becoming increasingly clear to me that this plateau is manifesting itself in the broader scheme of how I’ve chosen to live my life. More, it is yet another wake-up call because, if high blood pressure and type-2 diabetes aren’t scary enough, so is stagnation.

I keep thinking about the concepts of gaining and losing. Not just in the physical sense, but the spiritual and emotional areas, too. I think about the financial gains and losses of the last few years. It’s been a lifetime of “too much.” I’ve consumed immense quantities of self-pitying, self-loathing, bank account draining stupidity.

I’ve surpassed the weight limit allowed for emotional baggage.

Reasons exist for the plateau on which I find myself. And the void that I have tried for years to fill is now a testament to the self-sabotage that is my routine.

The gravitational pull of a black hole is so powerful, not even light can escape. That is the void that has haunted my universe for as long as I can remember.

I don’t know what it’s going to take to get content again. I can’t say happy because that’s too lofty a goal. But I am in a state of suspended animation. Nothing is being lost or gained. Just…stasis. And it’s frustrating the hell out of me because I can’t seem to move from this point.

In some ways, the saving grace in all of this is not going by 236 to 237, although I was awfully close to that number at weigh-in this morning. I don’t want to cross that threshold tomorrow.

This is my last week of a 10-week program to rein in the lack of control in what and how I eat. This is my last week in the Lindora orbit before moving out into the real world without a daily check-in and vitamin B shots. I’ve lost 22 lbs., but gaining some insight into what it is that ails me in the first world sense.

This wasn’t for vanity. This wasn’t for loneliness, although I continue to eat my feelings. I am reaching for healthier food, however. This program was to better my life. But first, I need to recognize that I truly want to live, because some days, I don’t truly believe that I do. It is a selfish waste of time, space and gifts to even have such a dark thought enter my consciousness. But there it is and it feels like the gravitational pull that drags all matter into the center of a black hole. I am skirting its orbit now, but still a distance away from being totally consumed by this void once and for all.

This feels like madness sometimes. I remember a period where my Dad was having a similar mental break when he was this age. He was so angry, disconnected and dissatisfied with everything and everyone around him. He was “The Other,” not the man who raised us to be strong and responsible and healthy. “The Other” was weak, irrational and unstable. It was a terrible period for my family, but he rebounded and we got Dad back from whatever black hole threatened to consume him.

I’m “The Other” right now. I don’t want to be saved and I understand the cure. If I can bring down my sugar levels and stabilize my blood pressure, if I can eat better and get fit, then I can shed this malaise in my heart and brain. At some point, I will be able to say “this void is condemned.”

Writing helps. I’m not sure if I can say “I need help” just yet, because what I carry in my heart right now is something only I can repair.

I don’t know how to end this post. But I do know it won’t be the last.

Animo. Y vida.

Happiness is NOT a warm gun…

Happiness is NOT a warm gun…

Happiness is a warm gun (Happiness bang, bang, shoot, shoot)
Happiness is a warm gun, mama (Happiness bang, bang, shoot, shoot)
When I hold you in my arms (Oo-oo oh yeah)
And I feel my finger on your trigger (Oo-oo oh yeah)
I know nobody can do me no harm (Oo-oo oh yeah)

I am crushed. I am angry. I am fearful. I am sick and tired. Words are hard to control right now. A lockdown at my alma mater, El Rancho High School, was issued when a student reportedly tweeted his plan to implement a wave of murderous violence. Conflicting reports say he was found in a classroom with a gun and/or a bomb was intended to be detonated in the stadium. However, as the day wore on, details became clearer.

The student who allegedly tweeted his desire to attack the school was only joking. Yet security protocols monitoring student activity on social media flagged words that triggered a call to the local sheriffs They mobilized, armed in riot gear, arresting the student. He wasn’t armed and the terrified student was reduced to tears, learning a tough lesson in consequence. But, it didn’t end with him. The rumor mill went into hyperdrive and another incident occurred parallel to the first. Word soon spread that other students were on campus with guns, something that has not been confirmed or denied at this time. Regardless, the damage was done and a new era was ushered into ERHS, one that will have long term effects on the school’s culture as it begins to redefine how it can keep its students and faculty safe.

My sister is an educator at ERHS. She should not have to fear for her life, nor should any of her students. The solution is NOT to arm teachers, a betrayal of their true purpose.

This epidemic of gun violence is claiming too many lives. More, it is eroding any civility and optimism for a safe and sane reality. These events should not be “the new normal” for our children.

What’s wrong with us? Why aren’t we all being proactive to stop the NRA and its supporters from killing us all with their myopic and outdated interpretation of an amendment? Why aren’t we mad at the media for turning the disenfranchised and sick into martyrs and pop culture heroes with their rage?

Why aren’t we mad at ourselves? Why aren’t we mad at generations of disconnected parenting, where too many have opted for a quick fix. Take a pill. Take 28 days. These three letters are what is wrong with you. Here, look at your iPad. Watch this movie in your car because I don’t want to talk to you. Excuses. Band aids. No solutions.

Finality exists at the end of a gun barrel. Are years of being desensitized to violence finally reaping its horrible, intractable reward? We aren’t safe anywhere and the dream of being a haven against the woes of the world is now impossible to uphold.

I am proud of my Latino heritage. I am proud to be from Pico Rivera. I am proud to have graduated from El Rancho High School. However, as an American, I am not proud how we are propagating fear, intolerance and racism as a means of creating an “Other” to fear based on religion, sexual orientation and cultural backgrounds. You can’t shame and blame other for what ails this country anymore. We ALL carry the brunt as to why things feel out of control. Indifference and apathy are just as evil as racism and hate.

I will not stand by and let this event debilitate and diminish what I still feel is a great community — and country.

People, what else do we need to have happen in this world to wake us up from the ennui of status quo? SPEAK UP! Reach out to our leaders. Do something. Please, before we turn ourselves into a paranoid state of permanent fear.