Thanks For Terrifying Me Bro!

As this amazing journey of mine continues and I keep working towards the healthiest me possible, I had a moment today to sit and reflect on how far I've come.

I guess I've been so focused on the fight to drop the pounds each day for the last year that I never took the time to appreciate fully what I've accomplished. Don't get me wrong, this isn't about me bragging or flaunting my healthy changes. It's about reflecting on what it has taken to reach my current status on this quest.

My frustration has been building over the last month as my weight loss has stalled. I continue to maintain my weight which is certainly a positive but with my original goal so close, the irritation of not progressing further has had me feeling a bit defeated.

Change Can Be A Good Thing

Of course this is completely ridiculous thinking on my part. The fact I've lost 153 pounds so far really can't be considered anything but a success. Sure I would love to drop those last 15 pounds to reach my goal weight of 250 lbs but at this stage it might take a bit more effort and determination. In other words, I have to take my game to another level to overcome my opponent.

When I think back to a little over a year ago when I began this process, I started to ruminate on what lead me to finally start down the road to a healthier me. Not only that but why did I succeed this time after failing countless times in the past?

It all came down to one conversation I had with my brother Scott.

Visiting Scott and his family in Florida in March of 2012 I was pushing at least 420 pounds. The exact maximum weight I was carrying is up for debate. I hadn't weighed myself in almost two years and at that time I came in at 418 pounds. In all likely hood it's plausible I was weighing closer to 430 or more at this time.

I hadn't yet been officially diagnosed as diabetic but I had been taking my blood sugar readings and they had spiked in recent weeks. We all knew the truth, even me, although I was trying to deny it. Diabetes is quite common in my family so deep down I knew the odds were high I would eventually be hit with the disease as well.

Being in denial it took some eye opening, straight, no bullshit confrontation from my brother to wake me up. It just took me another six months of coming to grips with it before I finally wised up and made the effort to change.

Scott pulled no punches. It was almost like an intervention. My parents were there as well as my sister-in-law Erin. I should mention that Erin is a nurse and my brother in a Nurse Practitioner among other things. He has worked in busy hospital Emergency Rooms and currently oversees the training of Nurses, EMT's and Firefighters. To be honest, he has so many fancy letter combinations after his name I don't know what all he is. PhD is one of them. Long story short, they know what they're talking about when it comes to the medical field.

So there I am sitting there when the onslaught of concern, truth and love began. A lot of things were said but the one thing that stuck with me the most was being told I would most likely be dead within a matter of years and not decades. Being told that your feet, legs and more could be amputated as a result of the combination of obesity and diabetes has a way of grabbing one's attention.

I'm sure at the time I probably brushed it off but I knew there was genuine concern there and with good reason. Scott's intent was to scare me and he had succeeded even if he didn't know it at the time. I'm not sure he realized how much his talk hit me. It did sink in and stuck with me. It's still with me to this day and that fear of death really is quite the motivating tool. The fact that it's the truth just makes it even more powerful.

There are no certainties in life. I could be hit by a bus tomorrow but to sit by and eat myself to death and let my health deteriorate to a point that I can no longer look after myself is something I wasn't prepared to let happen.

So today, thanks to having the crap scared out of me, I'm 153 pounds lighter and the healthiest I've been in decades. I've been going to the gym five times a week for the last month. I'm now using the treadmill and even jogging intervals. I'm lifting weights and strengthening my body. I'm not trying to look like Mr. Olympia, I just want to feel more fit overall.

Being open with my emotions isn't something I'm comfortable with. Don't get me wrong, I'm a very emotional person and have been known to shed tears at weddings or watching movies but when it comes to expressing my feelings to others, I could be better at it. I'm sure my family knows I love them even though I don't say it. I would lay down my life for any of them if I had to but speaking the words in person is something I just don't do. I'll have to work on that.

But I needed to say thanks to my brother for caring enough to give it to me straight. Sure I did all the work to reach this point but without his push, my future would have been grim at best. Perhaps the next time I visit him we can talk about the progress I've made and I can thank him in person. Most likely I'll just buy him lunch instead and we can talk about something more interesting.