Everything Under Control Situation Normal

When will America again do something so innovative and so exciting as a country?

Probably not anytime soon.

Tonight is date night. We plan to have a late dinner since it’s, you know, late. Which is fine with me because I have to stay up all night because of my work schedule. I have to mess with my sleep so I can sleep during the day and stay up all night.

In the meantime, I am watching Seinfeld and waiting for the inevitable; I must put on pants.

It went better than I imagined. I’m starting slow because I need to get my groove back. Slow means a few weeks before I do any strength conditioning. Staying with cardio until then. The last thing I want to do is discourage myself and quit.

A few years ago, well more than a few years ago, I was a gym rat. So much so that it was not unusual for me to go to the gym during the morning hours and return during the evening hours. I was fit. I made sure that I ate the right things even when I didn’t have the time to do so. I walked everywhere too. I had a car, a bus stop a few feet away from my apartment door and a subway and still, I walked. AND I rode a bike as often as I could.

More than a few years ago is 15–17 years ago. What happened?

Well, I moved. I moved far, far away from my job in New York City to the family-friendly Pocono Mountains. I did it for my family. The cost of living in New York was increasing and my salary was not cutting it. The only way to do it was to decrease my cost of living, add a commute from hell, and move on.

Slowly my gym visits went from four times a week, to three, to two, to one and then none at all. I didn’t ride my bike. It rusted from lack of use. And I drove everywhere. I went from 165 pounds to 226 pounds in what felt like a week. I’ve been at 226 pounds for years. No more, no less.

A few months ago, I learned that I was a heart attack waiting to happen. I had high blood pressure, my cholesterol was out of control and blah, blah, blah. Just awful. I found it quite difficult to change my diet or increase my exercise. Still do. The biggest motivator for going to the gym is that I’ve committed money to it that I don’t really have because I need structure in my exercising. I’m no good at doing it home alone. Later today will be Day One.

Diet is a huge problem. I love my burgers and fried foods. I don’t have time to cook so I researched and found that Home Chef, a prepared-meal delivery service has a decent variety of prepared foods and they deliver in my area. Three days is what I signed on for. My schedule at work is Friday, Saturday and Sunday/12 hours each day. What I order from Home Chef is what I will eat at work. No more Subway sandwiches or fast food. Discipline. I need discipline. That leaves three days. I’ve already committed to one cheat day a week. I will do everything in my power to eat healthy on those days.

Exercising is something I do with little or no interest to share on social media. I’m not a gym rat anymore. I don’t see the benefit in sharing what I do. Or am I being selfish? I don’t know. It’s just not something I do with phone in hand. I’ve never been a selfie guy anyway. Sharing my likeness is something I rarely do. On the other hand, sharing my progress might hold me accountable, might help me be honest. I’ll have to think about it.

I didn’t know Anthony Bourdain like some of you did. I admired him from afar. I knew he was a world traveler, a chef, a brilliant storyteller, a dad, a former heroin addict and the boyfriend of Asia Argento. I’d see the CNN commercials for his show and say, “Man, I have to see that,” but I never did. Never had the time or the energy to set the DVR.

When we lose someone to suicide I think, “Damn, he/she lost the war.” Or, “I never would have thought that he/she was fighting the same war that I’m fighting.” But then I remember that depression is so easy to mask. There’s that wide smile for the public and the tears for when you’re alone; the tears that run down your face like a hard summer rain.

Millions across the globe fight the same war and millions lose each year. In America we lose, on average, 44,965 people to suicide each year. That’s 7,000 more people that can fit into Boston’s Fenway Park. On average, 123 people commit suicide each day.

It’s an epidemic.