Archive for suicide

And this is why I hate planning

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on June 27, 2013 by Johnny Broken

Well… long story short, I had big plans for last weekend, but things didn’t go as I’d hoped. Umpteenth suicide attempt, if you’re curious. I had intended to make the attempt Saturday night, but I didn’t even get that far due to an impromptu minor car wreck earlier in the day. Which is why things are a bit later than usual this week. The specifics of my plans or how they were thrown off aren’t really important right now, and my lack of reacting quick enough to use the wreck to my advantage has me too depressed to explain them any further anyway. So I’m going back to what I had previously intended to post this week.

Many moons ago when I was but a young lad naïve to the ways of the world, like most my age, for all intents and purposes, I didn’t care when I ate, what I ate, or how much of it I ate. I was a chubby kid growing up, but I figured that was just how it was. I mean I hated my relatives for teasing me about it, yeah, but there were some kids at school just as pudgy, if not more so, than me, so I took it as normal. Some kids were athletic and fit, I wasn’t. That’s just how it was. Didn’t really cross my mind that I had any control over this for a long time.

I think my heaviest was around 185 pounds. And considering that I stopped growing at 5 foot 5 and a half, it wasn’t a good look for me. (I apologize if you don’t use American measurement systems. Math and I have never gotten along very well, so I would be the last person to try to convert that to stones or grams or whatever measurement system you use in your neck of the woods.) Now you might be wondering, “Hey, haven’t you said that you’re 5 foot 6 and a half?” and you would be right. Quick story!

I was born with a bad case of scoliosis, and I forget the exact numbers, but something like a 1.5 grade to the curve of your spine is normal. They recommend surgery at like 2.5. My spine was at like 3.2. So as a reward for my extremely screwed up genetics, I got two steel rods inserted next to my spine to straighten it out. And when I finally made it to my grandmother’s for post-surgery recovery, I had this weird feeling of vertigo walking around the place. Then it dawned on me that I had literally been straightened out, and was thusly about an inch taller. The disorientation came from everything being an inch lower than I remembered. Bit trippy, getting used to that.

Anyway. When reality finally sunk in and I realized, “Damn. I’m fat.” I began a lengthy period of trial and error to determine how to best lose weight.

One of the things that I had to plan my life around when I was growing up, was that I was frequently sick in the stomach. Granted a lot of this could be attributed to my nerves even as a little kid, but my parents were also fond of a late night snack back in the day. Hungry? Have a bowl of soup. Or some cereal. Or a sandwhich. Then off to bed in less than an hour. And of course, by the next morning. “Oh, you don’t feel well? Hmm. Ah well, we’ll get you some medicine.”

I saw a TV show somewhere along the lines about healthier living that advised to stop eating before you go to bed. And the exact numbers escape me, but the rest of it was something like you really shouldn’t eat like 2 hours before you go to bed. Sound plan, I thought, and I’ve abided by that rule pretty much ever since. And guess what? Almost immediately after I started watching how late I ate, I all but stopped getting such a frequent upset stomach.

And of course there’s the obvious stuff like cutting back on junk food and soda and the like. And then exercising, well, at all, in my case. But things weren’t progressing enough at first, and my hardcore sweet tooth wasn’t helping either. And then I got that previously mentioned back surgery which was like 8 or 9 hours on the operating table, and 6 months of recovery. Now I would like to point out that when I was barely able to move because my back had been cut wide open so my spine could be fused and bolted straight with two steel rods, the LAST thing on my mind was how much I weighed. At the time I had been growing my hair long, so I admit I was focused on that, but I really never noticed during my recovery that I was dropping weight like crazy. All in all, I lost like 50-60 pounds during that whole ordeal. And I was absolutely thrilled. My hair was long! And I was THIN!

And, oddly enough, this was also when I started dating a girl who was… hrmph, I’m trying to think of how I can phrase this so I don’t sound like an asshole, but I’m at a bit of a loss. So screw it. When I look at the opposite sex, I mentally file women my age into three categories

-Attractive. This encompasses “hot” girls who are thin or toned or curvy in all the right places or whathaveyou. See also, Out of My League.

-Average. An average girl can still be incredibly good looking, but she has a few extra pounds. Theoretically, averages girls are in my league in the dating pool.

-Big. This should be self explanatory. I’m sorry, but I do not find this attractive. And if I lost the weight, so can you.

Now the girl I started dating around this time, let’s call her #5, who also became the aforementioned longstanding girlfriend, was attractive. Well built. Pretty. On the other hand, the girl I dated for a bit before her was a bit on the pudgy side. Big boned, if you will. She was nice, but I will be honest, she’s one of the girls that would not be the first pick of the dating pool. My point here is that once I finally slimmed down enough, I was able to get a desirable, attractive girlfriend. Call my perception of life warped if you will, but a lot of what and how I think was developed through crap I actually went through.

And at that, we are to be continued! And you can relax, I’ll be here for a while. My plans take some alignment of the stars level arranging, so it’ll be some time before I try anything major again.

-Johnny