Day 48... Oblivion and despair.

I am amazed at the progress I am making, and yet there's so much more to do that I often feel as though the prospect of giving up is reasonable -- even expected. I can see why some diabetics lose sight of their need for discipline and decide to eat cake. It's really a disease of discipline, not blood sugar. Same with obesity. I wouldn't have made it this far without this blog. I look forward to writing it, and I read it often at work and it is a constant reminder of what I am trying to do, and that what I'm doing is important. I see why alcoholics and drug addicts need to go to 12 step recovery meetings. I see why food addicts go to Over eater's Anonymous and Weight Watchers. It all makes sense. I see why I need this blog. The discipline I need to do what I have to do far exceeds my natural ability to stay focused, stay positive and be strong enough to resist temptations of any kind. The way I get this discipline is through this blog, and by forcing myself to show up at the gym and be there before the class starts, and to get to the gym every day if possible.

When you're as fat as I am you have no life. You have no real friends. You have no prospects for romance. Your range of physical activities are limited.

You have no life. Period.

So the excuse not to go to the gym is unreal in the extreme -- I have nothing better to do. I should close the place down, like a drunk at last call for alcohol. They have television at my health club, I can walk on the tread mill for a couple of hours, watch TV, take in an Opera on my Ipod, read a couple of chapters from a book and then call it a night. I have no life. Where else can I go?

I sing in the choir for a church. It's really the only thing going on in my life. I have a job (for now) but I work rather independently from my boss and co-workers, so I have no life with them outside of work (something I am rather thankful for). I am either officially or had been a member of every 12 step program that exists -- It's something I choose not to discuss within the scope of this blog (though I must admit, it is probably the reason why I am still alive and relatively sane). I don't drink. I don't smoke.

I just exist.

And now I don't eat. Because the key to my success, and any weight loss success for that matter, is a significant reduction of calories combined with a significant increase in physical activity. If I want to get thin, then I have to eat and move around like a thin person. This is a hard thing to do in that I am at a point in my program of self deprivation that I could almost walk out into the desert and pretend I am some kind of spiritual guru or crazy old testament prophet. I'm out there waiting to throw myself down at the foot of some burning bush, or rather I am seeking that shaded Bohdi tree where I can sit in the Lotus position until my meditations are halted by the stiffening of my mummified remains as a die in the seated position. Tranquil. Isolated. Alone.

It's hard for me to go on, but unfortunately what choice do I have? I made the commitment that if I had a choice of being fat and miserable or being thin and miserable, then I'd rather be thin. Since I've made that commitment I have come to realize just how powerful the effects of food is on my life. It has the power to temporarily dispel anxiety driven by loneliness, anger and fear. In it's absence, food has the ability to persuade me to believe that my sense of oblivion and despair are real, and that any happiness can be achieved if I go back to eating pizza, fried chicken and hamburgers. I decided that I'd rather be a mad prophet than John Candy, Chris Farley and John Belushi. As deeply loved as they were, those guys are dead in spite of all their success. I don't want to die like that.

Perhaps at the opposite end of the spectrum you have someone that was completely anonymous and someone who embraced oblivion and despair with great courage only to die of starvation. That person is Christopher McCandless. When I read the Jon Krakauer book many years ago I was deeply moved by this experience, and so when it became a movie I couldn't wait to see it. The film seemed to bring Christopher's story back to life again. And yet some people could argue that Christopher's life was also screwed up, but I don't think anyone dies in vain when they are on quest to bring meaning and truth into their lives. Not everyone dies looking for the truth, and those that do often die with their secrets buried with them.

I don't want to die choking on a cheeseburger. I'd rather die for a lack of one.