New Beginnings

Today is not yesterday.  Today is a new day.  I was up on a Saturday before 7.  I walked Doggie... I swam, 1800 meters.  I am starting back up slow.  I think I over did it last quarter.  I think I took on some big swims fast and just got lost in the ride.  It became more about the distance than it did about getting healthy and feeling good.  So we start slow.  If anyone knows a swim coach that can become my sensei that would be great.  I could use a sensei.  I am going to reach out to Coach Tom, I have been meaning to do that.  He is the mother fucking master.  So, I have that on the todo list for next week.

I am feeling great.  I am hopefully and looking forward to really getting back into the swing of things.  2014 is going to be a great year.  I really believe that.  with everything that went right with 2013, and building off the great swim momentum I built at the end of last year.  The openness of this blog and being surround be some great people. I think we are off to a great start.

As I have said.  There is a lot of bad gunky inside me.  I have to get it out. So, it will roll out slowly but surely over the coming weeks, days, months, years...  I have committed myself to beat this.  I have committed to living a life I dream off.  A life in which I am the focus. I am the main attraction.  Mostly, I am going to have fun.  Lots and lots of fun.  Ok lots to do before the Colts come back on.  Edit Chapter 2 of Guardian at the Gate.  Unpack the boxes.  run to the store.  Get my Colts Poncho out.  That is right baby. I am breaking out the Colts Poncho to wear over the Freeman Jersey.

1800 Meters swam today...  That is pretty good.  I did a good pull/kick workout.  tomorrow, I am thinking 2000 meters but focusing on my freestyle.  It is really weak right now.  I am going back to the basics with it to get my breathing and stroke back in sync.

I also did a little math on the distance I swam last year.  Do you realize I basically swam 136,000 Meters last year.  Which means I was in the water for 138 hours.  That is pretty BA right... BA as in Bad Ass.  It is actually about 85 miles, which is still pretty good.  Anyway we will break that record this year.

So anyway... have to run now... but... just remember things are looking up.  we are going to have lots of fun this year.  We are going to smile... kick some ass... and just have fun!  Its a new year, a new beginning ....

The only question that matters…

The only question that matters…

There are many truths out there and many questions that have to be asked, however only one question has to be asked and answered.  Before, we get to that; let’s talk about one truth first.  And that is that the truth of things is I am never going to wake up one day and just be ok.  I have years and year of built up hate, fear, bad habits, and anger inside me.  For anyone to believe, I am just going to diet, and all the other shit is forgotten is funny fucked in the head.  It took my 38 years to build the labyrinth that is my mind and my poor health, and lack of self-esteem, so it is going to take some time to reverse it.  So, don’t be alarmed when I tell you I am sitting at the gym, crying after reading an email.  That when I tell you some days I don’t want to get out of bed and want to give up.  I tell what is on the mind and what is in the heart.  I am uncensored and real.  I have chosen that path.  I choose to be the open book that I have always spoken about being.  I choose that path over the other.  So, lest hope it doesn’t take another 38 years to reverse the negative self-talk, if it does, it does, but we will take one day at time and baby steps.  I am better today than I was yesterday and better in January 2014 than January 2013.  Each time I talk about being sad, or angry, or hateful, I am releasing the bad gunky from inside.  I have to let go of the bad gunky. 

I am unsure how a normal mind works.  I don’t have a normal mind.  I have an obsessive mind.  What do I mean?  Not enough time or space to write this all out right now.  Anyone who knows me knows I am a victim of my own gods be damned ability to over think something.  The obsessive mind is riddle with pitfalls.  However, the one that might be the worst is the inability to stop asking questions.  I am constantly asking myself questions.  I am constantly turning things over, and over and over in my mind.  Through these questions I create conspiracies.  Through these conspiracies I create stress for myself.  It becomes exhausting, almost too much to deal with and bear.  The things, worlds and worries I have created.  I accept this about myself, because it is who I am.  The same mind that creates worry, an stress, also creates happiness, joy, and worlds.  I have created worlds.  If I could only share them without, I would.  I am trying.  I am writing every day.  I get most of it is crap and just my journal, however, it is what I can do right now.  I will try to show you into the worlds I have created.  So, as I said I accept this. 

I have spent the last four days in a fog and a haze, and each time I thought, perhaps things can’t possible get any worse they did.  There was always something: betrayal, stress, self-loathing, hate, or anger.  It is what it is and life is not fair.  The entire I was turning a question over and over in my mind.  Not just a question but the most important one that I can ask at this time, and the only one that matters.  I was not doing it in the front of my mind, not always.  Of all the questions I asked over the last week, month, year, or life time, it is was the only that mattered.  All those questions that were asked this week and the only one I don’t think I answered until about an hour ago…  So many questions:

“Is this the right job for me?”

“Should I work out tonight?”

“Should I let her go for good?”

“What is the Twelve and why did they cross the plains of Amerouth?”

“Where do bad folks go when they die?”

“Am a good writer or is all this crap?”

“What’s for dinner?”

“Do I believe I can change?”

“Why do people love me?”

“Who am I?”

“Why am I scared to move on?”

“Am I in the correct profession?”

“How did they know it was a fucking Ghoul?”

“Who is cooler Clooney or Olyphant? And more importantly who has better hair?”

“How much weight do I need to lose to be happy?”

“Why don’t I love myself?”

 “What are they doing right now?”

“Will it be ok?”

“Why do I still miss her?”

“Should I stay in Maui longer?”

“When should I take some time off?”

“Why don’t I believe in me?”

“Gastric bypass?”

“Why am I so angry?”

“Why do I feel so betrayed?”

All of these are good questions.  All of them need to be answered.  However, right now, none of them are the right question.  None of them really matter until one other questions is answered.  The only question that matters.  It’s a simple question to ask too.  A question that should be simple to answer as well, but it isn’t always.  The question is…

“Do I want to die?”

Make no mistake here… I am not contemplating taking my own life or hurting myself.  I am trying to get the bad gunky out here.  I have to ask this question because let’s all put our cards on the table here and be brutally honest am I not slowly but surely killing my body with my weight?  Over the last six years let’s do the math because I don’t need excel to do this.  I have gained over 100 pounds.  I have seen my waist size grow by 10 sizes.   My blood pressure is on the rise and is high.  I am morbidly obese (have the doctor’s note to proof it too).  I am no longer able to walk over a couple miles.  I have trouble getting up stairs on my own.  My knees hurt.  I am winded.  I was smoking half pack a day almost three months ago. 

People if that is slowly killing me, I don’t know what the fuck is and like I said this ain’t simple.  It ain’t like let’s go on a diet and it will all be ok tomorrow. Plus, I am 100% convinced right now if I went had Gastric bypass, I would either eat through the stitches or pick up another vice, because something is broken people.  I am on broken.  I am.  I freely admit that.  All the questions above and the thousands more I ask myself each day are a testament, to that.  Did I not ask the question the other day how do you pick up the pieces of a broken life?  How do you see what the others see?  How do you love yourself?  More questions. 

So, I have struggle with this question.   Again, I stress this, and I stress this BIG, BIG I am not going to hurt myself in anyway other than maybe a little many French fries or pizza.  I have to say this because Mom, I know you are reading and I know you worry, but for anyone else who might worry, that isn’t the point of this.  I have struggle b/c everything I do seems to be in complete opposite of what I say.  That is the struggle.  One can’t simply house Burger King one night, McDonalds the next and really expect to tell himself oh yes, everything is hunk dory and it’s all sunshine and purple unicorns on Strawflower lane!!!!  It’s been a tough week. 

I can answer the question, though.  After screaming and yes I felt like I screamed at Sue for an hour today and being on the verge of tears for three times today, I can answer this.  I DON’T want to die.  I want to pick up the pieces of my broken life.  I want to live.  I want to swim.  I want to ride. I want to run.  I want to feel good.  I want to love myself.  I want to accept who I am now.  I want to like this person.  I don’t really care if I ever lose another pound.  I don’t.  What I care about is moving and living.  I care about walking.  I care about laughing.  I want to see through the eyes someone who loves me unconditionally.   

People at work, most of them, I will say, the ones that I give two shits about, love me.  I don’t always understand why, but I think I do.  I am smart, whether I want to believe or not, I am good at what I don and I get it.  However, also, I think I bring the power laughter.  I can’t help it even when I am fucking angry, I can’t help but be funny.  I think in a place that isn’t always sunny, I bring a ray of light to a dark place. I guess my point is at work, at play, at whatever, people love me.   How do I get these glasses on?  How do I see what they see, so that I can believe it?

I asked Sue today how in the fuck I do it, how do I fix a broken life.  She told me honestly one piece at a time.  One piece at a time, it’s the only way to do it. 

So, here on a Friday afternoon in Pleasanton, I find myself daring to believe, that even though this week felt bad, it was actually good.  That I am cautiously optimistic we are better.  That I am we are moving forward.  That today I am better than yesterday and so on and so forth, and each time I fall down, I will pick myself back up.  I will continue to fight.  I will continue to bleed. I will continue to poor my heart out into this blog.  I will choose life.  I will take the dog for a walk tonight even if it is only to kooser and back.  I will go swim tomorrow, and Sunday.  I will sit down with Rachel when she gets back and make our plan for WW2 (which isn’t a diet), I will order the Gabriel Method Book, I will fight.  Because choose life.  I have been dead at least twice.  Once when I was 21, once when I was 26, and some could argue over the last two years, but I don’t like it. I don’t want it.  I don’t need.  I want to live.  I see a day when my pill box only includes my multi-vitamin.   Off the anxiety, depression, and high blood pressure meds, and off the steroids.  I see this in my future, because I see a future.  I think it will be a combination of holistic and western medicine.  I think there is a balance.  I think the number one thing I have is unconditional love of me from me, for myself.  This can’t be about getting healthier to get laid, or fall in love with someone else, get rich, get smart or anything like that.  It has to be about me.  Loving me.  Getting better.  Being me, and proud of me.   today is a good day…  tomorrow will be better!  So it begins… my new life.  A new me.  a life to be proud of.  A life to live to the fullest.. 

Angry and full of hate

Yesterday was a good day from a weight management stand point.  Work out check.  Logged all pts and are under pts check.  Then why am I left with a pit in my tummy today? 

Perhaps it's because the first time ever I left a work out more pissed off than when I started?  Perhaps it's because I'm frustrated to tears?  I'm angry.  I feel betrayed and I'm full of hate.  The Black Dread is a commeth and I feel for anyone in my wake. It's good puppy is at day care and roommate is in RI.  I tend to be meanest to those who are close by, when I'm under the influence of the Black, even when they have nothing to do with my rage.

Rational is not the angry man.  It doesn't matter when slights are real or perceived.  The hate flows like water from a tap.  In a world filled with real challenges, I choose the ones that are hurtful to me to focus on.  It kick starts a fire and the gets out of control.  You try to bury yourself in your work but work is part of the issue isn't it. Isn't that what a lot of this stems from?  The statement unfifilled?  Yes some of it.  Some of it is what goes on in the shadows out of few of the eyes...  In the. I guess it doesn't matter... Does it?  I'll deal with it, like I always do, I'll fake smile and nod and make sure everyone else feels like it's all good and the ill squash the black like I always do... Give me a few days and I'll be hopefully again and then we can all feel better about this... I've been doing this for 38 years I guess I should know...  However... My problem is I never ever forget.  I remember everything... Every betrayal, promise, offer, whatever ... It's gets locked up in the black... 

Anyway off to Pleasanton and my spreadsheets ...  I do have to get puppy tonight and that actually makes me smile,  stupid puppy, making me like her and getting used to her being around.

How do you pick up the pieces of a broken life?

How do you pick up the pieces of a broken life?  That's what I woke up asking myself today.  5:05 a.m. and my little brain is already fast at work. Asking, the question that I be a rich man if I could always answer.  How? I've had a life riddles with fleeting

moments of greatness.  However for every action there is an equal but opposite reaction.  Some reason for me that reaction is some what stronger than the positive and I find myself reeling backwards.   

If I truly accept myself as I am right now, then must I not take the good with the bad?

How?  Does one move forward?  How does one make decision they are tired of living a life not worthy of them?  And what does one do about it?

I held long palaver with A yesterday. We covered many topics , but she said something to me that stuck.  She has seen me to amazing things. She saw me last spring commit to a lifestyle and I lost 35 lbs.  she saw me commit to a swim goal that produced thousands of meters.  The point is the discipline is there and will power is there.  I'm capable of changing things.  I have the tools.  

I found myself telling her I've tried all the diets, why don't we try one thing I've never tried with myself.  Unconditional love.  Why do I  not love the man under the fat?  Under the anger?  Under the hate?  Why do I not love the man so many others seem to?  So, this leads back to how?  How do you pick up the pieces of a life you broke?  

I will admit I'm scared.  I'm 38 and I'm playing a game of high stakes poker, not with the mob, or bookies, but The Reaper himself.  I look back over a life of ups and downs and strikes and gutters and I see how I got to the table.  I see the only true villain in this story is the man playing withe The Reaper.  A man whose heart was so big and loved everyone else but himself.  A kid who thought his job was to fix the world, when he wasn't sure how to fix himself.  A kid that felt more alive by himself on his swing traveling in worlds other than these.  In the end I failed myslef.  So how do I fix myself?  

I don't know how I do it.  What I do know is I have to keep doing what I love to do.  I have to get back to the swim.  I have to keep writing more.  Kody Ransom deserves to have hit tale spun. I need to smile and believe that this blog can do what I set out for it to do, safe my life.  So I do what I know.  I get back outside and I walk.  Billy b the walker of halves, can barely hobble to lunch these days, but I got to get back on it.  Most importantly i have to reprogram my mind.  I have to deal with the issues I keep running from: job, depression, angry, self love, and addiction z. I have to love myself unconditionally.  How else can you fix a broken life?

I accept myself unconditionally Right Now

Getting ready for work, I repeat over and over in my head

 "I accept myself unconditionally right now!" 

"I accept myself unconditionally right now!" 

"I accept myself unconditionally right now!" 

I wait for the negative thoughts to come but they don't.  They are though.  Unspoken.  They don't have to be spoken.  That's how powerful they are.  They know they've won.  They always win.  The proof of their victory is on the coffee table or in the trash can.  The Burger King wrappers are every where.  I failed last night and lost a battle.  I wish I could say there was a gallant battle and I tried not to eat, but there wasn't.  I was over it, all of it.  Work, life, whatever, I was over it and I wanted to use last night, so I fixed.  I fixed good.  It was a feast, that any binge water would have marveled at. Two double whoppers w bacon.  A bacon double cheese and a large fry.  Oh and a coke.  The worst part is at three in the morning I was up hungry again.  Guess that is what happens when you fill you self so full you want to throw up on crap.  I had the house to myself last night bc roommate is traveling for work. So I fixed up real good.

When I said no more diets this isn't what I had in mind.

When I say "I accept myself unconditionally right now!" This isn't what I want to accept.

However it's part if who I am and what I'm doing. 

I'm avoiding right now and therefore I'm using.  I need to tell you about the big 3.

The three reasons why I'm where I am at.

1. Stress

2. Negative programming

3.  The black dead or being dead or whatever you want to call the blackness that moves in parrell to my life.

I'm scared.

What if I face these things and don't lose weight?

Worse and more likely what if I face them and do!  My god success is terrifying.

The Guardian at the Gate - Book I - Chapter 1 - Kody

The Guardian at the Gate 

Book I

Wander, IN

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 1 - Kody

     There were still temporary spots on his eyes where the lighter just a

few seconds ago had light up the night.  He slowly eased his right

hand back into his jacket and put the black Zippo into his left breast

pocket.  He pulled his hand back out, just as slowly, and then using

his left hand again, he zipped his jacket back up, while he held his

cigarette in the left corner of his mouth.

      He wondered what the wind chill was right now. He actually never

really understood wind chill.  What he did understand was when there

was a wind chill it was colder.  So what was the wind chill right now.

 He didn't know.  What he did know it was cold tonight.  Not as cold

as it would be over the next few months, but still cold.  It was

colder than he was accustoming to after so many years in sunny

California.  He chuckled to himself at that.  Anyone who that San

Francisco was part of sunny California either had never been there or

if they had, got extremely lucky to see a gorgeous day there. What was

it Marc Twain had once said "The coldest winter I have ever spent was

a summer in San Francisco?"  Was that it or had he botched it.  He did

not know.

      He laughed again at the thought of thinking this October night was

cold.  Thinking about how he had become Californized.  How many times

had he sworn he'd never move back?  How he couldn't because he'd been

Californized.  How it was just too damn cold back in good ole Indiana

for this Californian.  However, here he was standing outside on a brisk

night in Indiana.  How long had he been back?  Had it really been six

months?  He thought about it.  Again he did not know.  Time, no matter

how much you try to fight it, moves only in one direction, and that is

forward.

      He took another drag of his Camel Light and he felt the burn run down

his throat.  Was it the cigarette or the cold fall air, or some

combination?  After taking another drag he looked at the object he

held between the index and middle finger of his left hand and sighed.

How many times had he quit?  How many times had he sworn that it was

for good?  To many to count he knew that much as well.

      Under normal circumstances, he never wanted to smoke, even on the

occasional night when he got on the Makers Mark, he did not want too.

Sure sometimes he craved it.  Sometimes he yearned for the comfort

that a Camel Light in his hand gave him.  He loved the taste of the smoke.  He

loved the feel of the smoke as it filled his lungs. However those

cravings and wants went against what he wanted.  However they were

there as much a part of him as the hand that held the cigarette.

      However, no matter how long it had been since the last time he quit, 

he always seemed to find himself smoking again.  The real shame of it

was that he knew when it would begin and end.  He knew it all to well.

It always started with a call over the radio in the patrol car or one

directly to his cell phone.  Some one would be on the other end.  Some

one who sounded like they had news they did not want to tell.  Some

one who tried to sound unaffected by the burden they had to tell.  No

matter how many times they had said, or how many times he had heard

it, death was not never and easy topic for anyone to talk about.

The calls came though.  Morning, noon, or night, they came.  They came

from men, they came from women, from rookies who where so excited they

where about to shoot their rocks off, and salty veterans who where so

tired of passing on this type of news it made them sick.  However it

came, from whomever it came, it always came to him, and no matter how

hard he tried to not care, just to take it as business as usual, he

couldn't.

   He had been born into this world with a heart.  Perhaps the thing worse than having a heart was that he had been born with a conscious.  You see the calls didn't come when a cancer patient finally lost there fight with the blight.  The calls didn't come when an old man or women went to sleep one night, and decided to stay in the dream forever.  No, the calls came when a bar fight went wrong, and one fighter beat the other one to death.  The calls came when a domestic disturbance went wrong.  The calls came when someone's finger or foot was found in a garbage bag at the dump.  The calls came when a nineteen year old girl was found in the woods just off of I-46, with bite marks covering a decomposing body.  In every one of those situations he felt empathy; in every one he felt responsibility.  For every body there was a sad story, and ever sad story made his heart break a little bit more.    How long had death been his business?  Since leaving Quantico, since deciding he should join the Violent Crimes Division.  How long ago had that been ten years?  Fifteen?  He didn't want to remember, he didn't want to remember.    What he remembered like his own face was the stories.  The stories of each victim, both who had some how lived through the story and those who had died during the telling.  Those who had suffered from violent crimes through out the Pacific Northwest, and now the state of Indiana.  Some times he wondered.  Who was luckier the ones who had survived the violent crimes or those who had succumb to them.  At least the ones who had succumb to them, wouldn't have to live with thestories.  The stories he knew, that stories that came to him in his sleep, the ones that visited him from time to when he closed his eyes.       He took a long pull off his cigarette and looked out into the Indiana night.       He had seen too much in his time on the job.  He always referred to his work at the bureau as the job.  He wondered why that was.  Wasn't what he did now a job?  Ya, but it was different.  He did not know why, but it was different.  Part of his reasons for leaving San Francisco, and the job behind was in hopes that he would get out of the death business.    However, all he knew was law enforcement and so here he was doing another version of the job, it was just that the lights weren't so bright and the stage wasn't so big.  With all the differences between Wander and San Francisco, one thing was the same. People in Wander, just like people in California did awful things to other people.  Murder is murder no matter where it is committed.  He just did not realize there would be so much of it in Wander.       He pulled another smoke out and lit it using the other cigarette as a lighter and with that he found himself shaking his head.  Had his life really been that sheltered for him not to realize that murder had always taken place in Wander?  It wasn't a new phenomenon.  He'd done his research since returning, and with a pull off his smoke and a frown he realized. Yes, his life had been that sheltered once. However, now that his eyes had been opened, he wondered if they could ever be closed?  He supposed he did not want them to be.       As he stood outside and smoke his thoughts drifted to the county morgue.  To his buddy Dirty Steve, no, not Dirty Steve anymore but Dr. Steve.  Wow, that still took some getting used too.  Where Dr. SteveCovey was about to begin the autopsy.  In these situations even know the cause of death was pretty apparent, they still did the autopsy. It might provide some clues; it might not, just the nature of the business.       His thoughts weren't so much on Steve but on the girl he would be performing his work on.  He supposed she had been a young woman,  hadn't she been?  No, he guessed not, she was a girl.  One that still lived with mommy and daddy, while trying to get her grades at the local community college, so she could transfer to West Lafayette or to Bloomington.  She hadn't been quit sure yet, and well now, she never would be he guessed.       He blew the smoke out his nose and stared up at the stars.  He ran his right hand across his mouth and it was met with sharp bristles. How long had it been since he shaved?  Three maybe four days ago he last ran a blade along his face.  He thought about growing a beard and then dismissed the thought with a smile.       He couldn't think about trivial details like personal grooming when there were so many other things on his mind. So once again his thoughts went back to the girl, Janine.  Found in the weeds off I-46 by an out work mother and her two little daughters.       Kody Ransom had expected to see a lot of things in the weeds when he took the call and was first on scene.  He expected one of the usual suspects: a bullet whole, some strangulation marks, or maybe a knife wound.  He saw none of these.  What he saw was bite marks.  "Fucking bite marks" He said to himself.       What was even more bizarre was the state of the body.  Besides some blood in the hair and around the wounds the body was clean.  "Fucking bite marks" he said to himself again.    It some one had taken thetime to scrub the goddamn body from head to toe. She was cleaner out there naked in the woods than she probably had been in her whole life.  There were scrap marks under the fingernails, which where perfectly trimmed.  He'd have to look out for scratch marks, even know it appeared there was nothing under any of her nails.       "Fucking bite marks!" he said again to himself shaking his head.  He knew too, that those bite marks weren't made by any animal or at least any animal that lived in the wood near Wander, IN, that he knew of, some fucked up shit happened in Wander, Indiana from time to time, after all it was Wander?       Plus no animal would have stopped to wash the body with saline solution to make sure that his or her paw marks weren't picked up in a scan.   He couldn't get over the fact that more than anything the body smelled of a cleansing solution from a hospital or a morgue. Defiantly not the Palmolive he kept sitting on the sink.       No those bite marks were human.  He had seen bite marks before on victims.  Usually in crimes of passion or in one of the numerous serials he had tracked down over the years.  However, those marks were some how cleaner neater.  These bite marks appeared random and repeated.  He had no doubt that assailant had bitten her enough and ripped enough flesh away to allow her to bleed to death.  Probably while the sick fuck sat there and watched.       "God!" he said to himself, "Please don't let this be a serial."  He wasn't ready for another serial killer.  Wander wasn't ready for one. He hoped beyond all else this wasn't a serial crime and it wasn't the beginning of a hunt.  He just wasn't ready for that.  Not yet, maybe never again.       That led his thought back to the Wander Sheriff's Depot-Office.  Theone on the corner of US 41 and Honey Bee Lane, not the main office downtown Wander near the courthouse.  It made him think of the small cell with the silver stool.  One Dean Johnson was currently occupying on a disorderly conduct charge that violated his probation.  This latest offense had taken place most likely a day or two after Janine was bleed.       Dean Johnson was a …      

"Kody Ransom!" her voice started to jerk him out of his thoughts. "I see you managed to slip away from the scene again without giving interviews?”  The voice that now not only jerked him from his  thoughts but rather grabbed him and yanked him out of his private thoughts.

            He started momentarily out into the black Indiana sky.  Would she simply go away if he did not acknowledge her?  No, hadn’t he tried that before and it not worked.  Then maybe he could hope to the gods above that he was hearing things, that he was not being interrupted by anything else than a rustling of the wind.  Perhaps this was nothing more than refuse of an over active imagination?  Did he always have an over active imagine nation.  Perhaps it could be a ghost.  Maybe a hallucination, if he were lucky?  Maybe he misheard the voice.  Perhaps it was really just another officer or Dean Johnson’s public defender.  When he turned his head slightly to the right out of the corner of his eyes he saw the shoulder length brown hair out lining that narrow face, that was perfectly accentuated by high check bones, and of course those big brown eyes that felt like they could boar into your soul.  No, he was not alone, or seeing a ghost, or lucky.  Just to his right she stood next to him.  With that determined look on her face, the one that hide that inviting smile.  The one that said she meant to get what she wanted from you whether you would give it willingly or not.  How many times had he bared witness to it over the last six months?  Like so many things, to many.  Just too damn many.   With that he took a long pull off his Camel Light and turned towards her.

            He met her glare eye to eye, which wasn’t hard, considering she was of a height with him.  Or was she a little taller?  Didn’t really matter, did it?  No, it was a draw, and even though he wished at this moment she was a head shorter than he, he settled for the eye to eye.

            Once he was face to face with her, he exhaled a plume of smoke right into her face and smiled to himself as she began to cough and swipe her hand hurriedly in front of her face.  In between muffled coughs.  Sad that something so simple and crude could make him smile.

            “You, son of a bitch” She choked “You know I am allergic to cigarette smoke”

            Kody said nothing.  He just stood there watching the choking women waive her hand in the air at smoke that had long since dissipated.  Those brown eyes weren’t so determined when she was flustered.  After a few more coughs, most which he thought must have been fake.  She straightened and glared at him. 

            “Officer Ransom, I am glad to see you are handling yourself so professionally these days.”

            Kody was already dragging in another cloud of smoke into his lungs, and gave the women a look that said, keep talking and we can do this all day.  This time when Kody exhaled he spit the smoke out of the right corner of his mouth, barely moving his lips at all, just enough to let the smoke push out. 

            Her eyes fixed hard on him, and she began to speak when Kody began to.  “Go home, there is no story here.  I don’t mind you wasting your time, but I do have an issue of you wasting the time of the hard working officers of this department.  So, do us all a favor and go home.” 

            “No story here? “  Her eyes began to gain some composer and stared to drill into him.  “There is murder to be investigated by a heinous act of bru…”

            “There is a dead girl, at the morgue.  Who appears to have some type of bit marks on her neck?  We do live in a rural part of Indiana, and it is very possible that her death, though tragic, was nothing more than an animal attack.”  Lies came so easy. 

            “Then why did you take Dean Johnson into custody.  Sort of strange that you took her boyfriend into custody the same day that you found her body.”  The eyes intent.

            “Like I told you this afternoon Johnson has been brought in for questioning on another matter.  It is mere coincidence, that we found her body and took him in on the same day.  How many times do I have to tell you that?”

            “Until you can tell it to me and you actually believe.”  Those eyes burning him, damn he hated when she new he was lying. 

            “Look, go home.  There is nothing to discuss.  There is no murder case being investigated at this time.  The body is with Dr. Covey awaiting autopsy.” 

            “By your statement yesterday it seemed pretty clear what the cause of death was?” 

            Kody pulled on cigarette as it hung between his lips and then took his left hand and flipped it onto the ground, he was now looking at the ground shaking his head.  “For you it must have, I read that trashy little article you call news.  It has always amazed me how you can take bits and peaces of a conversation and twist into some conspiracy theory.  I told you to leave it alone.  I don’t want to have this crap flashed all over the paper for your sick pleasure.”

            She took a step back.  Kody moved right on top of her.  “I told you to stay out of my way, and I meant it.  If you get in my way of this or any other investigation, you will regret it.”

            There was silence for a moment, and then it was broken by with a yell from the direction of the station.  “Kody, what is wrong, what the hell you yelling about.” 

            He looked over the women’s shoulder towards the station and said, nothing, I will be right there.  He fixed his eyes back on the women “I promise you, you will regret it if you fuck my work up for you god damn tabloid.”

            “It is...” she started.   

            “It is about as much newspaper as Wander is a Mecca of culture.  It just aint so.  That paper hasn’t had a shred of respect since the old owner passed on.”

            She took another step back, and sort of reeled a little bit from that, her eyes went form confident and whole boring to wide, to blank and empty.

            “Kody?” the voice from the station called.

            “Coming.”  And with that he moved around the women and began to walk.

Welcome to the New Year! Let the War rage on…

 

I am happy.  I don’t think I say that very often.   However, last night, I was lying in my bed, and I grinned.  I was happy and content, really happy and really content for the first time in a long time.  I will tell you the following truths as well.  I have no idea what I weigh, so it was not weight loss the made me happy.  I have not tracked my food since Mid-December, so it was not that.  Finally, I failed to meet my swim goal for December and this whiplashed me into not getting my new Garmin L  Also, unless I have food poisoning again for the next two weeks, I won’t be losing 25 lbs. before January 15^th.  With all of that, I still lay in bed and smiled last night and was as happy and content as I can remember being.  Why then?  How could a man with a binge eating disorder, who is morbidly obese, who has not weighed in, tracked food, or swam since December 23, 2013, and blew two goals be so happy?

It’s pretty simple; it is because I got better yesterday and it is 2014 and we are going to LIVE 2014!

How did I get better?  I learned new words to live by “Sleep More, Exercise More, Laugh More!” and that I need to “Love myself” unconditionally, right now, today, as I am.  Finally, I decided, I am never going to go on another diet as long as I am alive and let me tell you something friend, that in and of itself, is a huge load off my toad!  I have been on diets at once a year if not more, much more, every year of my life since I was 11 or 12.  I can’t remember, I remember I was in sixth grade, and Mom had me on weight watchers.   I was a growing boy and I was on a fucking diet.  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t blame Mom Carol.  No, got nothing but love in my heart for my mom.  She did the best she could do with the hand she played.  I know she feared me being heavy.  She feared me ending up like her and her brother, a slave to sugar, fatty foods, and the binge (strange how we fulfill the prophecies set out for us, I became what I was told I would become.).  I know it was done out of love.  However, I am getting off tangent.  Listen to me right here and right now, I am done with dieting.  I will never diet again.   I have washed my hands of it.  However, with that being said, I will also say this…. “I am done gaining weight!  I can’t gain anymore.  If I have to live the rest of my life at the weight I am today, so be it.  However, I will not add anymore pounds.  I can’t, and I won’t.  NO MORE WEIGHT GAIN!” 

Let’s see if we can’t summarize here... I am not going to ever go on another fucking diet or gain anymore fucking weight.  Done.  See I should have just written that paragraph to begin with.    

So, see I am better!

Last Sunday I watch a flick on Netflix, I have had in my queue for five or six months, and I wish I would have watched then, but it was a movie that inspired me.  I watched FAT, SICK & NEARLY DEAD and it is an inspiring film that chronicles Joe Cross, the film maker’s personal mission to regain his health.  Now Joe got on the Juice.  Billy b can’t just get on the juice, because, Billy b’s doctor said no and well it’s not the juicing that spoke to me.  It was the fact that life is so much more than meals.  That life is about being social, being intimate, laughing, and loving.  Plus, seeing the fresh veggies this cat was eating, actually made me want to eat Veggies.  Though I might do a system reboot sometime in the near future, if my doctor say I can, I know juicing isn’t my future for long term living.  So, starting this week I was thinking about vegetables.  I fucking hate vegetables.  More, I was thinking, that food is not fun.  I was at dinner with Rachel and Deb on Sunday night and I love Rachel and Deb and the visit was great.  However, it was not the food we ate that made dinner great, it was the company.  However, everything I do right now for fun involves food in some way, shape, or form. That is just wrong.  Life is so much more.  I don’t feel alive at the dinner table.  I don’t feel alive after a binge.  No.  I don’t.  I feel alive after sprinting from one end of a pool to another.  I feel alive getting to the top of a climb on my road bike and going down the other side with the wind in my face and hitting speeds of 20 to 30 miles per hour.  That is being alive.  Not food.  I realized I have to stop eating for fun and starting eating to sustain life. 

My relationship to food is fucked.  My relationship with my fat is fucked.  It is a sickness.  I love the sugar.  I love the comfort of being sad that my fat allows me to have.   The excuse it gives me.  My weight is a fortress I have built around myself.  To protect me from having to live, or to protect me from anything else that could possibly be wrong or go wrong.  It’s my crutch.  My ring.  My excuse.  My weight.

I can’t go into right now why I hide myself from the world behind my weight.  I just know that I do and you will have to trust me on that.  I will tell.  I decided that a long time ago.  I have to spin my tail.  I don’t know exactly why I do it but I think I know some of the reasons.  That is another blog.  I can’t hide from it anymore.   What I can say is never underestimate the power of the mind and the prisons it can build for you. 

This is not a new year’s resolution.  They don’t work.  It is coincidence that I am writing this on and watching this film towards the beginning of a new year.   I think I told that years in my life are measured from November 1 to October 31 anyway.  

FAT, SICK & NEARLY DEAD spawned the Rachel and I to watch an additional documentary yesterday “Hungry for Change” and wow.  It was pretty impressive.  This movie just breaks it down about diets, fads, sugar, and weight loss.  One of the speakers in the movie really spoke to me Jon Gabriel.    This cat was 410 lbs (lighter than me sad to say) and he lost 220 lbs.  That to me is aw-fucking inspiring.  Some who did it. He fought the war and won the war. He has kept it off for 8 or 9 years.  I spent a couple of hours learning what and how he did it.  It makes sense to me.  I won’t spell it all out here for you, if you want to know go look it up.  If you don’t like his method, fine.  At this point, what do I have to lose?  I have an August Deadline or I am going to the chop shop.   So why not, I have tried every diet in the world.

So, I say Fuck dieting and I am not going to gain any more weight and I like the way that feels.    So, yes I smiled. 

See the buddy system when it started wasn’t about a diet.  It was about eating less, and moving more.  We have done that.  It was about confronting my binge eating.  I have been starting to do that.  Now, I am going to do it head on. 

Look if 90% of the people in your life tell you that you are going to be fat and end up being like your uncle who was morbidly obese and you believe them.  Then perhaps it comes true.  Look since I was 12 everyone in my life, and I do mean everyone has had some comment about my eating.  Whether it is right or not, I felt like a fucking outcast because of it.  So, I didn’t want people to see me eat bad, so I started to do it alone.  I developed an issue.  I have a fucking issue with food.  I have a problem.  I know that.  And just so we are clear! I am not blaming these people.  It’s not their fault.  It’s mine.  I made the decision to get me here.  I chose to believe what was said.  I chose to not believe in myself.  This blog, this revelation, this new life isn’t about blame.  It is about changing things, forever.  It’s about building a new life out of the ashes of an old one.  It is about finding that healthy, happy, person who is inside me.  The one who says fuck work, I am first.  Fuck drama, I am first.  Fuck everything.  I am now the star of my life.  So welcome 2014.  I am glad you are here. 

I know it is dumb, but I put a post it note on my mirror at home.  Every morning and night for 30 days, I am going to look in that fucking mirror, and look deep into my brown eyes and tell myself “I accept myself unconditionally right now” Today, I did it, last night, I did it and I liked it!  I am accepting who I am.  What I am.  That is the first step.  Now it’s time to convince myself that, we don’t need to hide from the world anymore, that it is time to live the life we want. 

Today, is a very good day, I can’t wait for tomorrow!!!