You know what I hate—when I look at myself 5 years ago I think, “that guy was such an idiot”. And I can generally do that when I look back. It’s the “if I knew then what I know now” game. Hindsight is 20/20 and all that. But do you realize what that also means? I’m an idiot right now, but I just don’t know it yet. Actually, in this instance, I know it and it smashed me in the face on Monday.
I was going to use the “head in the sand” cliché, but actually I think the “fog of war” is a more apt analogy to what I’ve been up to over the last year. 2011 was a rough year for me. A lot happened and a lot of it was very stressful. I’ve been doing my best to keep a lot of issues inside the fog. It’s not that I didn’t know. It’s that I rented an industrial fog machine and ran that 24/7 inside my brain so that I wouldn’t have to deal with… anything.
For some of it, I was so focussed on moving past my anxiety in creating a podcast that I purposefully ignored other issues. (Speaking of which, the second episode is recorded and I’m starting to edit tonight.) But I ignored a whole bunch of other anxiety because I didn’t really want to face my fears. I thought I could get away with it. If you haven’t already guessed—I couldn’t. I didn’t.
Leah’s been telling me for months that I’ve been losing weight. But that’s impossible. That should be impossible. I ignored her.
I want you to understand my logic, because I’ve been wearing a 32×34 pants since I was 16. I was 165 pounds from 16 until 25 and then I got married and gained 15 pounds—that’s just part of marriage. It’s like the “freshman 15″, but for marriage.
What I’m trying to say is that my weight doesn’t fluctuate. I can eat whatever I want, at any time of day, and I don’t gain weight—which on top of being white, male and impossibly handsome, I’m sure you have a ton of sympathy for me. I’m not looking for sympathy. I just kind of slid “impossibly handsome” in there. I bet you didn’t even notice, but I’m sure unconsciously you’re thinking—yup, that sounds about right.
I’ve been dealing with anxiety before I knew what anxiety was. Anxiety is my bag, baby. And, for me, it comes from the dissonance between who I am and who I want to be. And I’m scared of who I want to be. The problem is, while maintaining a heavily fogged mind, the gulf between those poles was growing further and further apart and my anxiety was increasing, daily, with it. And I started to get sick.
I thought it was the flu at first. But then I kept getting a “stomach bug”. I’m really a strep throat or tonsilitis kind of guy. I rarely have stomach issues. I’m historically quite regular.
On Monday, I went to the doctor and it (obviously) wasn’t the flu. It was my anxiety causing my stomach to release too much acid, which made me sick. Also, I decided to see if Leah was telling the truth and I bought a bathroom scale.
I lost 20 pounds. I can slip my jeans off without undoing the button. Currently, I weigh less than my 16 year old self. I look like Christian Bale in The Machinist (not really, that’s hyperbole).
I freaked out.
So here I am, about to turn 30, and I’m just realizing that I can’t ignore myself and moreover I can’t try to be someone I’m not. I’m an idiot, but hopefully I’m getting a little smarter.
My goal for 2012 (it’s a goal because resolutions are for January only) is to look my fear and anxiety in the face and walk into it and not stop until I am the man I want to be. I’ve started jogging and exercising. I’m forcing myself to eat regularly and not skip meals, even if I don’t have an appetite. I’m done hiding. Done with excuses and shift blaming. I’m responsible for me. And you’re just going to have to deal with me—the real me.
You know what the worst thing about all of this is—I lost my ass. And I didn’t have much of one to begin with. But now I really don’t have an ass. If there’s one thing that will motivate me, I can always count on my vanity. I’m going to go eat another cinnamon bun. All booties begin with cinnamon buns and I want mine back.
Great piece, Rhett. While I presently suffer from the antithetical problem – that anxiety causes me to eat and eat until I am an inert blob of pudding in size-36 pants – I can absolutely relate to the desire to face your bigger issues head-on. It can be very easy to get lost in the small stuff, to let that dominate your thinking and priorities while the larger issues just swamp you. I hope that you find a way to manage your anxiety in a way that works for you.
And I don’t think you need an ass. I’d say you’ve got that covered every time you open your fool mouth.
Look, if anyone’s got an ass-mouth problem it’s you. I’m charming. (And thanks. I’m feeling a lot better already and I feel like things are changing already—because I’m making them change.)
Booties also begin with donuts. I fall into donut traps constantly. Nice post!
Thanks Allison. I’m looking forward to a Timbit trap later today!
“All booties begin with cinnamon buns and I want mine back.”
Brilliant! Words to live by!
I struggled in my first couple of revisions on how to end this one, but when I found that I knew I had it. Thanks.
That was really honest, and well written. It’ my favorite post to date. Of course memory is pretty awful and I don’t actually remember the other ones, but still. Thanks.
Thanks Sara. I’m glad you enjoyed. My plan going forward is to take more time with every thing I write.
Impossibly handsome, yup that sounds about right, regardless of the ass!
I know you haven’t asked for any advice or anything but well, you know me, I have an opinion on everything (sound about right?) and wonder if you’ve considered meditation as a way to ease anxiety. I cannot recommend the practice highly enough. I took my first Insight Meditation class after Jim’s sister died and I’m grateful for that class still, today, almost a decade later. It got me through one helluva time. There’s a group in Saskatoon. Doris Larson is the contact, I believe.
Take care of yourself, my friend. Stuff yourself with good stuff! I’m trying out a new cinnamon bun recipe very soon. It’s a food-processor one, so should be easy-peasy (she says hopefully).
Cheers!
Thanks B! And I appreciate and am thankful for your opinionated self—even when I don’t agree.
I have been trying to practice meditation and my Dad suggested the same. I’m slowly trying to learn how to slow down and turn off my obsessive thinking and not get locked into loops.
For me, meditation is on the same page as writing poetry. It’s work. And it’s ultimately rewarding work.
I’ve downloaded a few podcasts from tarabrach.com and find them quite useful. I also love Pema Chodron. Her book, When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times, changed my life. And I’ve found a number of Thich Nat Hanh’s books, meditations and exercises to be very useful. Oh, and yoga. Do you know Lia Pas?