Fear of the Fear

Life is a messy, muddy, and bumpy road.



When you try and be fancy and screw up dinner. Yeah, that was me last night. It totally messed me up, and I went off the rails last night. That’s not true. We went out to Applebee’s, and since we don’t have the kids this week, it was just my wife and I. Which means I COULD have made the choice to order some healthy options, there are plenty available where we went. I had no kids rushing me to order quickly, I had time to think through what I should order. Instead, I ordered a creamy pasta dish, with onion rings as an appetizer. It would be so easy to blame it all on messing up dinner but the reality is that isn’t what messed me up. I messed me up, I made the choice, and I need to take responsibility for it.

About 3 weeks ago I finally hit below 300! I was ecstatic to say the least! However, in the last 3 weeks I have gained it all back. I don’t know why but I have been struggling hard core lately. I have talked about it with a few close friends, and the only thing we can think of is that I am afraid. Afraid of failure, afraid of success, afraid of letting people down. How can I do so well, just to throw it all away? Where do I go from here?

As I sit here writing this I feel the ache of depressing settling in on my heart. I KNOW what to do, I could do the program blindfolded. Yet, when it comes time to follow it, I am hesitant, I am afraid, I am weak. I’ve lost my spark.

When I set out to write this post it was going to be something else all together, something positive and uplifting. But, I make it a point to be honest on this blog, and life isn’t all sunshine and daffodils. It’s messy, gooey, smelly and just plan dirty sometimes. This is just a bump in the road, I will find my spark again, I am confident of that. Every cloud has a silver lining, sometimes it just takes awhile to find it.

Thinking about it, perhaps I just need to learn to not be afraid of the fear. I need to embrace the worries that I am having, instead of trying to run away from them. I’m not solving anything by hiding them away under a pile of food, I need to focus on working through them. Baby steps…

Keep On Rolling,

Big Boned Biker


*It has taken me a few days to write this post, each time I come back to it I end up crying and have to walk away. *

As I sit here at the computer both boys are napping, and with my wife out of town till tonight it has been interesting. The weather wasn’t nice yesterday so I didn’t even leave the house. I have been feeling depressed a lot lately and having a hard time keeping my “head in the game”. Since this blog is about my journey, I always promote honesty. I feel like quitting. Not because of the couple of gains I had, but because I feel tired. I have been not minding my points(but always tracking) and not using my anchors ( link to anchors ). I simply have been eating food in the amount I feel like eating. I am not eating though because I am hungry, I am eating because I am sad. Why is this going on?

It didn’t hit me until yesterday when I saw what the date was, it was 6 days till the 6th anniversary of my mothers death. It always hits me hard as I was/am a mama’s boy. I think of her often and even have some nightmares about her being buried alive(and it being my fault). When she first died I would wake wondering if it was real or not, that she was dead. I digress though, every time I get close to this part of the year my mood changes. It becomes harder for me to stay “in control” with more than just my eating. I have a very bad temper, but 99% of the time I keep it controlled(using some techniques I learned in my teens). I find my self snapping at my wife/kids about little things and just being in a bad mood (NEVER Violent though). I know it was a traumatic event, but I feel like this far out I should be coping with it better. I have talked to a therapist about it in the past but didn’t get a lot of help. I have finally realized why it still hits me so hard. I have guilt about her death.

My mother was pretty much in a coma before she died. Her blood pressure kept dropping very low and the drugs the were using to raise it was also hurting her. As some of you may not know, my mother was over 700 pounds, and bed ridden most my life. She often would go to the hospital with “life threatening” things only to find out she exaggerated it. This though wasn’t one of those times. She lived in Florida and I was living in Wisconsin at the time. I had gone down to see her in the hospital a couple of months before hand. She was released and re-admitted a few times since that visit. So when I got the call to come down, I made the decision to stay. I felt I had already said my goodbyes and the last time I had spoke to her on the phone I made damn well sure she knew how much I loved her. So in the middle of the night I got the call, but I didn’t answer the phone. I thought it was just my brother calling to say he had made it to the hospital. I wish I had picked up that phone call, I wish I had gone down, and I wish I could have stopped it. I felt like I let my mother down, that I didn’t protect her like a son should. I was at home sleeping as she took her last breath, and didn’t even think to answer the phone.

My mother, gone but NEVER forgotten!
My mother, gone but NEVER forgotten!

Guilt, guilt, GUILT. I feel guilty, and I shouldn’t. Going down to the funeral all I could think about was how I should have saved her. I know I couldn’t but I SHOULD have, and that means I KILLED HER. So imagine you are going to your mother’s funeral and what keeps going in the back of your mind is that you were responsible for this happening. Compound this with the sadness, depression, and other feelings that come with such an event. Now every year it pops back up, that same guilty feeling. I let her down, and it was all my fault.

So I decided to write it out, and show myself how it wasn’t my fault and that I shouldn’t feel guilty. First, there was NOTHING I could have done to save her life at the hospital. NOTHING. I am not a doctor nor miracle worker.

Second, I am not the one who made her eat, just as she isn’t the one who made me eat. We all make our own food choices in the end. She, like myself, dealt with a food addition, it is just as strong as any other addiction, accept you HAVE to still eat food. You don’t have to drink or smoke to live, but you do have to eat. Imagine telling an Alcoholic you have to have one drink a day but NO MORE! That addiction though was hers and she is the one who made the choice to ignore it. I sound like a jerk right now(at least to myself), I shouldn’t be so hard on someone who was going through something like that, right? I am dealing with my own food addiction, and I understand the struggle. It is easier to give in than to fight it, but I firmly believe that we can learn to “control” it. I am not saying there won’t be ups and downs, many people with addictions relapse. It is what happens after those relapses that shows what you are made of.

Finally, at the root of all this is the fact that I have anger towards her, that I never really knew. Why should I be angry? I am angry for the childhood I had(I sound like a stereotypical person blaming their parents for their problems), and the fact that her addiction became mine. Little addicts come from big addicts. She wasn’t able to do anything, she couldn’t come out and play, make sure I did my homework and a host of other things. I am pissed off at her about all of it! She placed her drug of choice above her children, and that is a hard thing for a child. She also took away memories, like the ones I am building with my sons. My sons will never get to know her personally, and give her big hugs. She missed everything! This problem though is my own, and it is up to me to move past it. I can’t hold her responsible for my feelings of anger, and resentment. In an effort to start the healting I will put it here in writing. While I don’t 100% mean it(but know someday I will), it is a first step.

I Forgive you!

When I look at those three things, I realize it wasn’t my fault. I realize the guilt I was feeling is coming from so many other places. My mind doesn’t want to think negative things about my mother, I love her very much. I think my brain said “it is better we feel guilty than to have bad thoughts about her.” Every time this part of the year arrives, and my mind starts to go towards the thoughts of her, my brain tells the same lie. Now, just as I was typing this all out is when the realization of the anger came out. It is a relief, a physical and emotional release even. I know how to tackle this, and what needs to be done.

I know my thoughts don’t always come together how I want them to on here, but I know I got a lot out of writing this.


Keep on Rolling,

Big Boned Biker