I think it was the first short story I ever finished. Ok, well let me think some more, I am not
counting that letter to Penthouse, or anything I wrote in high school, so yes,
I think it is fair to say it was my first.
Since then I have completed at least novelettes, non-which I choose to
share on this media, they are currently being edited and the goal is to try to
get them published. However, “He thrusts
his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts” was the first
short story. Since it is something I am
very proud with over 462 views on the blog and because it is such a telling
tale of what exactly goes on in my head, I felt that it was best to share with
my Life Coach. So the attached link was
sent:
Sending the message broker a response “In the last three
years what have you done with all that anger? It has to go somewhere.
At first I was a little dumb founded by the question. Just where in the hell had all that anger
gone? I want to be able to sit here and
say I wrote it all out. I did a fair
amount of journaling and blogging after “Fists” but probably not enough to let
out all of the hate, anger, and rage that have been building up inside for so
fucking long.
Then I saw the picture I lead with today and I knew where it
had all gone. The anger hadn’t been
exercised away or written away it had all been internalized. I tried to bury it deep down inside. I tried to act like I didn’t care that I was
unloved and felt unlovable or that I was rejected and pushed away. I tried to act like nothing mattered. That I didn’t care I’d been passed over. That I didn’t care that I just kept fucking
up my health again and was killing myself one nibble at a time. I pushed this all way down deep into the
darkest black depths of my mind that not even I like to talk about or think
about.
There in that darkest of black places my anger burned like
wild fire. It raged on and on and little
by little it was let out into the world.
It might have manifested in bad day where the black dread would surround
me like a swaddling blanket and caress any feeling away. I think mostly it surfaced as insecurity in
my position, my decisions, and it kept me frozen in time. The one place I do know it surly found its
way out was thru my eating.
Since I stopped blogging the fires of anger raged and I went
on to put back all the weight I had once lost and like any good dieter once I
put that back on, I went ahead and gained more.
Fifty pounds more was the final tally.
I took out all my anger on my vessel.
How does that make sense? I let
anger out by stuffing more in? I turned myself into a cripple with limited
movement and little to no fun. I hide
behind the fact that my father was sick and traded the sadness and feelings I
should have felt for late night binges on burgers, fries, pints of ice cream,
and whatever else I could shovel into my mouth.
One value meal became 3 meals. No, no, I didn’t split one value meal
into three meals; I got three value meals for one meal. Eating a large pizza was nothing, I realized
this when I downed an entire Matt Cain from Patxi’s by myself on a Friday
night. One pint of ice cream to sooth
those sad fees became two pints, and of course we need to through in a bag of
chips for good measure.
The angry I got and the more I repressed it the more
punishment I did to myself. The more harm
I did to myself. I stopped
swimming. I stopped walking. I did nothing but go to work, site all day,
have people get water for me, pick up my meals, and then go home and sit on the
couch. In the last 6 months I have
discovered door dash and that has become the hide at home binger’s best
friend. My god, you can order Cream,
Baskin Robins, and Cold Stone on there, I know because I did.
Then there was the July 17, 2017 episode. I had not had a good binge in over a
month. I thought I was finding my
way. I watched Game of Thrones. I had a nice dinner, Steak, baked tater,
salad with beets that were awesome, and corn on the cob, the tater and corn was
made on my smoker. It was a feast
fitting for the season opener of GOT. I
was full. I was content. My buddy David left and I sat there with Kona
Koffee and I turned on American Dad.
That is when I got the itch.
I wanted something sweet. I
needed something sweet. I battled with
myself on if I should go grab something, but I didn’t want to leave the house
so late. So I went to my buddy Door
Dash, but David had left late enough that the Ice Cream places were
closed. I wanted something though. I needed something. So I kept looking and looking, and looking.
I opened up Pizza Guys website and there it was. They would deliver a pint of ice cream. They would deliver Dibs (chocolate covered
ice cream bites). Also, they had
churros, yes fucking churros with icing to be dipped in. Fuck, it was a binge eater’s wet dream.
However, I didn’t want to be that guy who only ordered a
dessert from the pizza place. No they
might think something is wrong with me.
I am sure they couldn’t figure that out from the three dessert orders regardless. So I thought I could trick them and make them
think they were just delivering a meal if I got a pizza. So I got a small pizza. I wasn’t going to eat it; I would fridge it
for later. I was telling myself also
that I wouldn’t eat all the desserts they were brining over.
They dropped it off.
I could swear that the pizza man was giggling at me. I wonder if they ever had such an order
before. Three desserts and one small
pizza, I seriously doubt it. I sat down
on the couch and I turned on my American Dad and within in 1 episode it was all
gone: The pizza, the dibs, the ice cream and the churros. It was a fucking blood bath. I didn’t eat that food last night I inhaled
it.
I was very ashamed of myself when I went to bed last
night. In a blink of the eye, I had
ruined a pretty good weekend of work. I was
angry. Then I woke up this a.m. I was in pain. My tummy hurt like it hadn’t hurt in a long
time. I think maybe for the first time
this year that I can remember I hurt from a night of hard eating. What exactly did the eating accomplish
besides making me sick to my tummy?
I wanted to bury this down inside with everything else. Then I read the message this a.m. from Coach
and I knew that the time for burying things was long over. The time for truth is here and now. The time for dealing with my anger and aggression
is in the present. It is time to turn
that anger into energy. Energy to be
used at the pool, to be used in the gym, and to be used walking. So even though my stomach hurt and hurt bad
this a.m. and even though I thought I was going to shit myself at any moment. I
went outside and I walked. It was only a
12 minute walks and little over a quarter mile.
However, it was a walk. I also packed
my bag to head to the pool tonight. I
need to start using this stored anger.
Fat is after all stored energy and I have a fucking reserve. So, I need to us it. I won’t swim a mile or any great length but I
will move.
I will learn from my mistake last night as well. After GOT the TV goes off, the book opens, I
do my ½ hour of reading and I go to bed or even better play with Kona Monkey
first. She would love that. Although by 9 o’clock at night she is usually
worn out, if I am doing my job right. So
reading and journaling should be all that happens after GOT.
As for Door Dash I gave my password and user name to a
friend and told them to change the password and not give it to me. Seems like an extreme measure but I am an
extreme dude. Plus I don’t want to be
eating that crap anyways. I’ve been down
that road before; it is full of anger and frustration. I don’t need to go there
again.
What I need to do is face my anger head on. I need to stop being a little passive aggressive
bitch about it. I need to focus on
getting off the sugar and only eating real foods like I was doing. I need to stop worrying about if she is every
coming back or not, or if I am going to have a heart attack tomorrow, or if
about work, or whatever the bullshit is.
I have to let go of the past and embrace the here and now. Embrace the future and accept it. All I have to do is to decide what to do with
the time I have been given.
I deserve a great life. I deserve to put me and my health
first. I deserve not to be angry. I
deserve to use my reserved energy for the only thing that matters right now and
that is getting my ship righted and get a full set of wind in my sails and
heading to my promised land.
No comments:
Post a Comment