WCSI’ve led a pretty slow-paced and inactive life for the past few years. Besides a few short periods of “motivation” I haven’t really done any sports. Furthermore, I haven’t been really going to any lectures at the university or to work, since I did both studying and working from home. Basically, the only times I went out were when I needed to catch a train to ride to another city or when I was out drinking with friends. I honestly should have changed this terrible lifestyle quite a few ago (years ago), but as the old saying goes: “better late than never”…
Sports:
For the past 6 weeks, I have been exercising on a regular basis. I’ve been jogging every two or three days. Additionally, I have been exercising at home fairly regularly. Ultimately, I finally restarted playing tennis again! I used to dream about playing this sport ever since I was in first grade. When an opportunity finally arose when I was in the US, I grabbed it and had a blast. For whatever reason, I quit when I went back to Germany. Now, 7 years later, I resumed this awesome sport and do not intend to quit any time soon.
Weight:
My beyond terrible life-style has led to some weight problems. I imagine that only an above-average metabolism has prevented me from swelling up to a body size that would make it a struggle to fit through normal-sized doors. Anyway, with an all-time peak of 116 kg (255 lbs) and a five-year average of 110 kg (242 lbs) I certainly was heavier than I should be. I have been dropping weight constantly (even though very slowly). My past 3 readings – 100.6 kg, 102.1 kg, and 100.5 kg – mark two five-year lowest weight records.
Job:
I got a new job! It’s certain! It’s not a particularly well paid one, but it’s fairly secure with the weekly work-load I hoped to have. It certainly isn’t a job that will enhance my resume, but it’s exactly what I think I need. Having to go to work 3 times a week, means that I need to learn to wake up early in the morning and get some structure in my life. Considering that I used to wake up past noon for the better part of the past 5 years, this is something I really need to get used to. It also requires some manual labor (e.g. on Tuesday I had to haul eight 15 kg (33 lbs) paper rolls three stories up), which is something I really wanted to have to do, since it allows me to stop thinking about any other problems… not to mention that I need the physical exercise…
Ultimately, the job allows me to be financially independent. Being a burden on my mother was one of the things that really dragged me down emotionally and I’m happy that this is not the case anymore.
PC games:
I used to spend between 5 and 10 hours a day playing pc games often enough in the past few years. I guess my behavior did classify as an addiction. However, in the past 21 days, I only played any games (bw and flash games) for 5 of them. For me this is a huge improvement!
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I honestly believe that I am taking the correct steps right now. Maybe not all the steps; maybe not the leaps I could, but I am in the right direction.
However, not everything is as good as it could have been…
I got my job whole 5 weeks after the deadline I had set for myself.
I lost weight but not at the pace I wanted (and could have done). I still am not in the double digits (in kg). Also, I decided to go parachuting and acquire a license so I am able to jump alone whenever I feel like. However, the place I want to go to, has a limit of 95 kg, which I am still a fair amount off…
The biggest burden on me currently stems from my not-so-recent-anymore breakup…
After we (she) broke up, I felt down, but I was doing fairly well. I kept thinking about her on a daily basis, but I could go about my daily activities, I felt a drive to improve and I was able to go to bed and fall asleep without any problems…
This all changed on the 1st of May… She told me that she was in a new relationship… I did not blame her for breaking up with me, since I realized that I could not offer her much right now. Whenever, I felt down I managed to convince myself that there must be some girl more suitable for me out there…
However, there was always the hope that I will get my shit together and we will manage to straighten up things between us…
Hope does not die last… But when hope dies it drags everything down the abyss with it…
On that painful day, I was visiting my mother and staying at her place. I just lost it and needed to get out as fast as possible. I made up some bullshit excuse about visiting a friend of mine (at 1 am…), took the car, drove to the nearest gas station, bought a pack of cigarettes, a bottle of beer, and a small bottle of vodka (200 ml). Then I parked the car a block away from the house and started wandering around. 3 hours later, having walked for about 15 miles, and having bought and drunk a second small bottle of vodka, I found myself laying on the ground in the nearby forest and screaming on the top of my lungs a mix between songs on my mobile phone, profanities, and simply crying…
Two and a half months it was since we broke up. While I could not stop thinking about her even for a day, she not only found some other dick to ride on, but was in the emotional constitution to get into another relationship!? (2.5 months is taking the benefit of the doubt into account, she probably got together with that douche even earlier).
Broken-hearted does not even begin to describe how I felt. I was a god-damn, fucked up, completely devastated, miserable mess. The first week after, I literally felt like there was a fucking hand trying to rip out my intestines. I could not eat at all! I used to be that kind of guy that can go to McDonalds and eat 3-4 big menus and finish with 3 McFlurries, but in those 7 days I could not swallow even a piece of bread. If it weren’t for the fact that I could not stop drinking, I would have reached my goal of 95 kg a while. For 16 days (with 2 exceptions) I got drunk every fucking night. And by drunk I mean, I was setting new personal records on the daily amount of alcohol consumed every other day. Additionally, I was smoking around 30 cigarettes a day. Whenever, I was alone and able to sink into my thoughts, the feeling of being gutted alive arose. In those 16 days I consumed only between 20% and 50% of the kcal my body requires from food (yes, I do keep a list about all the numbers I posted in this blog), but I actually gained weight due to excessive alcohol drinking. Every single moment I was able to think straight was a torture. Falling asleep without having my vision blurred and everything around me spin was simply impossible.
I know (and I knew back then) that this is childish. It’s infantile, stupid, illogical… But for fucks sake, my emotions were far beyond simply fucked up and getting a hold of myself was not possible.
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I’m better now. I think. Being busy at work does help. So far, time does not seem to heal jackshit, but being busy or jogging does help a lot.
I drank significantly less in the past 4 days. (Today is an exception…). I did reduce my cigarettes intake a lot. I still do not feel good.
I dreamed about her for 3 days straight… But still there is hope arising on the horizon. And it does not involve her. Maybe… maybe I will get over this stupid shit at some point. I crave to reach that point. The point in time when thinking about her will not make me want to puke; the point in time when I will be able to become a fully functional human being; the point in time when I will be genuinely happy…
But this moment does not depend on her in any way, it only depends on me, my actions, and my thoughts…
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Random junk:
1.
A week ago I was invited to a friend’s (female) birthday. I kind of knew that she had a thing for me, but I figured she will try to impress me and make me make a move on her. So I forced two friends of mine who were also invited to the birthday, but had no intention of going to come with me. We bought some half-assed present (a bottle of whiskey, a box of chocolate, and a dumb “happy b-day” card) and went there. I hoped that alcohol and the interaction with other people will help me forget the “bitch” mention above… Boy, was I wrong…
First of all, I did not forget shit. Every sip made me think about her even more…
Second… that birthday girl was faaaaaaaaaaar less insecure than I expected. Every time I would avoid her and go to the other room so I could speak with somebody else, she would come after me and chat me up. Every time I would sit down she would come and sit on me. By the time, she got fairly drunk she would not leave me alone for even a second and to hit on me constantly…
Now, a semi-functional male would be happy about the more than certain fuck incoming. Me on the other hand… Well, I was terrified. I had something completely else on my mind (yes, that fucking “bitch”). The birthday girl would not win a beauty contest, but she had an above average face and huge tits, so that’s far more than most guys are looking for… My reaction however, was to force the 2 guys with me to go, so I could leave with them – the two guys that I had to force to go there in the first place. Unlike me they did have a good time, but I was simply and emotional wreck (a common theme in the 2 weeks before that).
So that’s the story of me leaving a more than certain fuck behind, simply because I cannot cope with my emotions… She actually begged me to stay when we were about to go…
2.
A day later, I was at another friend’s (male) birthday party at a disco. The people invited ranged between white trash and primates, but the bday guy and another old school mate of mine were worth going there. The “other” guy is a really nice, funny, and a friend you would hope to have. At the same time, he is that 130 kg (290 lbs) gorilla that gets laid far more often than you would expect for a person his size (or any other male for that matter); he is that kind of guy that talks shit non-stop: As a matter of fact, one of the first things he taught me when I came to Germany (without knowing the language) was “jerk off”. I asked my mother (who is fluent in German) what that means and she did not know, so she asked a colleague of hers at work since we could not find that work in the dictionary. You can imagine that guys face when she was asked that question ^^
Anyway, I got fucking wasted and “cried” quite a bit on that “other” guy’s shoulder before I realized that if I were to drink anymore, everything is going to come out the wrong side of me… So I left the party with the bday kid – also wasted beyond belief (who is in a way wheel chair by the way) and was about to head home with me…
Here my memory gets kind of blurry… We both live in the same direction from the disco. It’s a 30 minutes walk to his place and another 30 to mine… in the south direction. My next snippet of memory involves Burger King… 5 minutes to the north… a whole lot of food on the table and a bunch burgers on the ground… next piece of memory: we are at the nearby train station (another 10 minutes further to the North). There is no elevator, so I must have dragged his wheelchair up the stairs, something I am used to from school. We are standing at the platform in the middle of the night, smoking weed with some people I have never seen before in my life. Suddenly, a freight train passes. For whatever fucked up reason, I decide that it’s now or never! What could possibly be a better time than now – after having drunk over a gallon of beer and smoked some pot – in order to jump onto the passing freight train? And so I fucking do it! I fucking jumped onto the fucking train. I remember thinking: “Fuck dude, I am dangerously close to that spot between the two wagons are stuck together. I really should not fall in between. I might lose a god-damn leg or an arm.”
The logical conclusion is to get up and walk off the train. I take a step forward. As soon as my foot hits the ground my whole body gets thrown to the side from the inertia I had form being on the moving train. I did multiple rolls to the side. I remember looking at the smoggy night sky and thinking: “Don’t be a pussy and get up!”. The rest of the night is pretty foggy. I remember giving people the handy advice to not jump off of moving trains because it causes your hands to hurt. I remember helping my friend in the wheelchair get down the stairs from the tram we took. And I remember talking to 3 guys I have never met before for a while before we reached our destination. I’m pretty sure I was talking about bullshit, but I wonder if they were bothered that a fucking drunk was talking to them, considering that one of them could not speak German (and was wasted), another one was simply falling asleep the second he sat down anywhere, and the last one was only slightly drunk and a bit high, but whose German was probably not above kindergarten level…
Anyway, the next day, both my wrists hurt like hell. I even went to the emergency room, because I was afraid that my wrists were broken. The doctors had quite a laugh after I told them how I hurt myself, but they assured me that nothing was broken. However, that day I could not use my hands at all. The following day, my left hand was usable for lesser tasks, but my right hand was still fucked up beyond any use. I actually had to endure 3 days of not taking a dump simply because I could not have possibly wiped myself, since my hands were so damaged. Afterwards, both wrists improved at a reasonable pace. The left hand was semi-useable by day 3. The right one regained the ability to hold light stuff. A day later, I was even able to use it to open doors. Another day later, I was even able to write with bearable pain…
Anyway, my advice is not to jump onto freight trains (or any trains for that matter). And if you do jump on one: DO NOT SIMPLY WALK OFF OF IT! The triple roll following might cause some serious damage…
