Losing 160+ lbs, for the second time in my life. (Long)

I want to preface this by saying that this is a very long post. I started to write a post introducing myself, and I just kept on writing. I didn't mean for it to be so long, but I just couldn't stop. I've never done something like this before and it feels surprisingly good to have written all this. I am hoping to make some new friends here that I can not only learn from but share my experiences with. Thank you for taking the time to read.

Hi everyone,

My name is Jon, and I'm 31. I love food, I love the tastes and textures, I love the way I feel engaged and excited when I think about foods, and I love the way I feel while I eat them.

I love my life, my girlfriend, and my friends and family more.

At least I want too.

I was never really heavy when I was younger, I was active. I played Ice Hockey and worked at an ice rink. I enjoyed the gym and power-lifting. I loved to fish and camp.

I was 21 when life happened, and instead of reaching out for help or support I made the worst choice in my life, I used food as a crutch. As I fed my feelings I gained weight and with each pound my life shrank around me. There was never a moment, a conscious choice that I made, to stop trying to live, but I think as I ate myself into oblivion I created this illusion of a life that no longer existed. I told myself I was happy, content, satisfied, while each day brought me further and further away from who I am.
I'm great at telling a story, great at telling people what they want to hear. Great at telling myself what I want to hear.

Great at lying to myself.

In 2007 I weighed around 425 lbs. I hardly left the house, except to buy food. I avoided old friends and family, made up excuses. I remember missing a family member’s funeral because I knew I had no suit to fit in. But every time something would remind me about my weight I would create a story in my head allowing myself to avoid facing any sort of reality.

Until reality hit me in the chest.

I'll never forget the moment. I was sitting at the computer eating 7 layer bean dip, playing an online video game (how cliché is that), when I had a sharp pain in my chest. It was this dull, burning ache that felt deep inside me. It hurt to move my arm or breathe.

"Oh God I’m having a heart attack"

I wasn't working, I had no insurance, and my money was dwindling. I wish I could say this is why I didn't call 911, but the real reason, was because I was embarrassed by my weight. I remember thinking, maybe it would be easier if I just died.

My heart began to beat rapidly, I was having shivers then the sweats, I tried taking a hot shower which just made me dizzy. I laid in bed for hours unable to fall asleep, feeling my heart beat out of my chest.

I was scared. I was, for the first time in my life, scared. I didn't want to die. I didn't want to die.

At 4am I called my parents. I remember my father answering the phone and wondering what was wrong. I told him everything. I told him how I had no job, that all I did was eat. I told him that I had never graduated college like they thought. I told him how everything that they knew about me was a lie.

And it turned out to be a pulled muscle.

My father, the amazing person that he is, came down that morning and took me to the doctor's. My blood pressure was elevated, my EKG was normal, I had a pulled pectoral muscle. The years of working out had given me a large pectorals, they were shrinking, the fat was growing, and the weight of the fatty tissue was pulling the muscle.

I'm going to live, maybe.

After some long discussions with my parents, they and I learned a few things about my life.
1. I had dropped out of college after I gained the weight. This was for two main reasons. I couldn't get around campus because of my weight, and I couldn't fit into the desks on campus for class.
2. I hated what I had become
3. If I didn't make some changes, I would die an early death
4. I was lonely, depressed, and scared.

It was time for a change.

I moved back into my parents’ house, enrolled at the local community college, joined a local gym and also enrolled at the John's Hopkins Weight Management Center. (http://www.jhsph.edu/research/centers-and-institutes/weight-management-center/)

Everything changed. I began to exercise, and eat a diet of 880 calories a day. There was such a feeling of satisfaction and motivation when I saw that first weight loss. Every week I would go back and weigh in and every week I was losing weight. It was great!

I was proud of myself.

I would talk about my weight loss to everyone. People that had known me heavy were amazed to see me, people that hadn’t known me were amazed to see old pictures. 160 pounds. That’s another human being.

I had won, my battle was over, I am me again.

I went backpacking, I went kayaking, I spent my free time fishing, and hiking, and bowling. I even went ice skating again. I was eating normal foods again and I had lost 160 pounds. I didn’t need the weight clinic anymore, I had this under control.

I was healthy and fit.

I was naive.

After I graduated from Community College, I decided to finish out my bachelor’s at a 4 year. I moved to go to school, and got a house with some friends. I became busy at school, made new friends, was having a great social life. The party scene wasn’t really for me, especially being older, so I got a job at the main college bar in town as a bouncer. It was a lot of fun, but at a big expense. My sleep suffered, I didn’t do any other activities, I ate on the job.

Freshman 15 turned into senior 200.

I always say “somehow” I gained 220 pounds in two and a half years. I say that “I didn’t even see the gain”. But that isn’t true. I chose not to see it. How could I admit to myself that I was putting myself back into the same situation I had gotten myself out of? Looking back, If I had just continued to step on the scale, and force myself to see my weight gain, I might have headed it off, instead once I saw 300, I never stepped on a scale again.

As the pant and shirt sizes went up, I was able to lie to myself about the actual weight. 2x, 3x, 4x, “oh I’ve only gained about 50 pounds.” 5x, 60. 6x, 60. It’s amazing how we can avoid the things we don’t want to face.

More like 214 pounds.

To you that number may seem shocking, and it should be to anyone. Except perhaps anyone that’s lost a significant amount of weight. Most people that lose weight deal in single or double digit numbers. You see diet ads, or weight loss/ fitness ads, they usually target the 10-30 pound range. Those numbers are nothing to me. I had lost 160 pounds, 10 pounds means nothing too me.

The mistake is, every pound matters.

The mindset of not caring about individual pounds or 10 pounds or even 20, is the biggest mistake I have made. When I first saw the weight gain of a couple pounds, I disregarded it. If I had ate a little less for a few days, lost the extra pounds, and kept weighing myself, I wouldn’t have gained 214 pounds.

I could have faced reality, instead I embraced complacency.

People gain weight for a myriad of reasons, I would venture there are as many reasons that they lose it. The problem about losing weight is that it involves sacrifice. People like myself don’t eat to fuel, we eat to feel. We eat because we like the pleasure derived from taste and smell. We eat because it entertains us when we are bored. We eat because it comforts us when we are sad or stressed. Then we continue to eat because it is a habit, a behavior, an addiction.

To change, to lose weight we have to sacrifice food.

It seems like such a simple statement, “we have to sacrifice food,” but it is the hardest thing I have ever done, or have to do again. Food is everywhere, it’s entwined within our social groups, it’s all over commercials, and it’s everywhere you drive. No matter what you do, you are constantly reminded of food.

The problem with sacrifice is motivation.

Something has to make the sacrifice worth it. If you aren’t ready mentally, if you haven’t fully committed, then you can’t make the sacrifice.

I am making the sacrifice. For myself, for my future, and for the people that matter to me.

The last time I gained the weight, my world shrunk. This is no different now. I can’t fit in desks at school and I can’t maintain any sort of long distance. I injured my knee and my back hurts when I walk. Perhaps the worst is I hide from social events again. I don’t like to go out, because I feel like the fat person.

I am lucky to have two amazing parents that have always supported me and a girlfriend that is the love of my life. I met her two years ago and have loved her ever since. That she continued to support me and love me as I put on the weight means more to me then I could ever put in words.

In many ways, being extremely overweight is incredibly selfish.

I limit my social interactions because I am embarrassed about myself or that people see my girlfriend with “that fat guy.” I run the risk of injury or weight related diseases, things that are preventable by weight loss and maintaining a healthy lifestyle. Sure they would affect me, but they would also make me a burden on those around me. I can’t ask the love of my life to marry me, to make a life with me when it runs the risk of her having to take care of me as well. I can’t ruin the lives of my parents by having to take care of their adult son, after they have already given so much of themselves to me.

I want to live, I want a life, I want a family, and friends, and fun.

I want change.

I want to win.

So how do I make this time different?

I am taking myself out of the mental equation. I will weigh myself weekly until I hit my goal. That weight will be verified.
I will log my calorie input, for better or for worse. There will always be worse days.
After I reach my goals, I will continue to visit the weight clinic once a month regardless of any change in weight.
I will engage others along the way for motivation and support.

And I will remember, every day, that I want to live, I want a life, and I want my love to be my wife.