Starting off the fitness writing challenge is sort of difficult. Where do I start really?
Let’s start at the beginning…
I was abused as a child, by abused I mean horribly physically and sexually abused, for years. I’ve just recently come to terms with this enough to talk about it this openly. [Thank you wordpress and loony for the support I needed by the way.]
Of course, you cope in different ways [my lovely wife loony will tell you I’ve pointed this out on more than one occasion] for me, food was coping. I ate, A LOT. I didn’t care, food made me feel better. I can cook [fairly] well and food never hit me, never yelled at me, never called me names, talked about me behind my back, food never hurt me like my ‘family’ did. Food was my best and honestly only friend growing up.
This left me very heavy for years, cue my Marine goal and I dropped a lot of weight, got very fit and did some amazing things in the Marine Corps, I am very VERY proud of my service, even if I don’t talk about it amongst friends very often.
However, after my service I got fat, I was depressed, I was injured you see. I couldn’t walk, literally I was stuck in a wheelchair for over a year, my best friends had both died and I was left alone in the world again. Survivors guilt or so I’m told.
In desperation I knocked on my fathers door.
‘I need a place to stay for a few days, just until I get my orders fixed’ I explained since the Marines had screwed them up I was stuck for almost a week without money or a place to stay.
‘No’ was my fathers reply as he shut door.
I slept in my car that week, waiting.
I was alone, so I turned to my old friend, food. It was a good and bad time. I went from 180 pounds of fit Marine to 250 pounds of I can’t see my toes Marine[ish]. I am not proud of it but that was how it happened. When I saw myself one day in the mirror I was disgusted, I was so depressed I stopped eating almost completely. I went from 250 to 155 pounds in a matter of months.
January 29, 2008 at 155 pounds [my heaviest weight of the day] I am told I look sad, but the truth is I felt more dead than sad.
But I did what I had to do, I picked myself back up and started working out. When you are abused you tend to cope by taking control of whatever you can, for me weight lifting was a perfect fit, I had control over my diet, my workout routines, everything.
Right back on the saddle again.
Now that is pretty much the end of this story, I have been working out for years now. I’ve made a lot of progress and I’ve learned to be more healthy in accomplishing my goals. I no longer binge eat, which has probably been the hardest thing I’ve had to learn not to do and I’ve got a support system finally to help me with my issues. I’ve learned a little better what moderation means, even when it comes to healthy things like working out.
As for my health issues, I’m walking again, even though my Doc said it would probably never happen. I haven’t fallen in over 3 years now, not only that but I can run and lift like a normal person [with a few modifications like straps because my left side is weaker than my right, still dealing with those health issues but I’m working on it.]
So really, life seemed dark and sad. I held out hope for something better and I didn’t settle for what people told me, because of this I pushed myself to walk again, I worked on my issues and now even if I am [still] very screwed up in the head, I am in a much better place and a safe place to work though all of this. Weight lifting really helped me take the first steps to get to this point, my loving wife [even if she isn’t legally quite yet] has given me the rest.
Is it a perfectly happy ending?
But it’s a good place to be.
Me today, see much happier and healthy.