Fuck Your Title

It’s fucking astonishing that it’s already nine days into April.  Where is this year going?  Anyone that knows me knows that I like to reminisce about the past.  I put a lot of emphasis into things that have happened along my journey through life.  I hold on to the memories and like to draw upon the lessons they’ve taught me.

I came to a point in my life about a year ago where I essentially gave up on myself.  I touted my “honeybadger mentality” like a badge of honor.  “I don’t give a shit about anything.  Fuck you.  Fuck her.  Fuck your opinions.”  Laissez faire was my motto, not giving a shit was my occupation.

I got into a lot of trouble with that mentality.  My responsibilities as a 23 year old fell by the wayside.  I blew my money on stupid shit.  I stopped eating healthy.  I stopped exercising.  Started eating fast food non-stop.  I started smoking again.  The ways my lifestyle had changed during 2011, it was with the help of the girl catalyst I was with during that time.  Her initiative and dedication to change her life pulled me in and I ended up making those changes as well.  Naturally when things came to an end, I devolved into a childish excuse of an adult and saw fit to tear apart all the progress I had made – all in an attempt to spite her.

After I realized how ridiculous my thinking truly was, and the fact that my attempts to spite her obviously fell on ears that couldn’t give two shits, I fell back to Dr. Phil’s ever-famous quote, “The best indicator of future behavior is past behavior.”  Sure enough, at this point I had already been fucking my life up 2 D MAXX, so why not continue?

I’m not sure what triggered it, but I began to recognize my fuck-ups.  I began to see the mistakes I had made along the way.  I noticed how I had changed.  I had gained weight (almost to the point of negating all of my working out from before), I was still living at home, I was dirt broke, no savings, and had little to show since the beginning of 2012…

I started by committing to quitting smoking.  The cost factor was a big part, $10 a pack every other day was an expensive waste of money.  The smell was getting unbearable.  The morning phlegm cough-ups were gross.  The acid reflux was a daily annoyance.  I had previous quit because of her and her son, not by my own choice – or at least that’s what I told myself.  So I did it.  I quit cold turkey.  I went through the withdrawal.  The purging of phlegm from my lungs, the whole nine yards.  But I did it, and I’m damn proud I did it.

I felt empowered.  It felt good to tackle such an addicting substance on my own and put an end to it.  From there I started tallying the things in my life I needed to turn around.  Next on the list was my legal woes.  I had several tickets that I had ignored during my laissez faire phase earlier.  They needed taking care of.  So I researched for a few days – pulled up my driver’s abstract, called the courts to see what I owed, determined how many times my license was suspended, figured out what needed to be done to set this shit straight.

I got my taxes back, and a majority of it went to the courts.  I lifted the suspensions, paid the fines, and did what had to be done.  In the end, my biggest mistake in recent memory was allowing the GXP’s insurance to lapse…  Not only did I let it lapse, but I let it lapse for 155 days.  Around five months.  When I tried to unsuspend my license at the DMV, they broke it to me hard – I had to turn in the plates to the car, she’d have to sit for five months before she could be re-registered, and I had to apply for a Restricted License for the same time period.  And that’s what I did.  It’s what I had to do.  I had to man up.  I had to take responsibility for my shit.  It kills me though, not being able to drive her.  I’m down to 110 days remaining till the GXP will be back on the road.  I’ve been fortunate and blessed enough to have quite possibly the best parents imaginable though.  They’re letting me borrow and use their truck for those five months, and although it’s slow and heavy, it gets me from Point A to Point B.

So at this point, I had gotten my own apartment, I had quit smoking, and I was now 100% legal (if not restricted though).  I was beginning to recognize that although the road wasn’t easy, working hard enough and long enough to get to that light at the end of the tunnel was more than worth it.  I was taking the steps to get back to self sufficiency.

I’m losing steam here, writing this, so I’ll try to come to a close here.  I realized a while back that I hate going to the gym.  I’m too antisocial.  I hate being in public, honestly.  So to facilitate my exercise and working out, I invested in a set of dumbbells to use at home.  That coupled with my limited knowledge of calisthenics, will allow me to work out in the comfort and atmosphere of my own apartment.  I’m totally okay with this.  I also got signed up with GymPact, which is essentially a service that challenges you to come up with a work out schedule.  If you stick to it, they pay you for each day you work out.  If you work out less than you say, you have to pay them out of pocket a certain amount you set.  If I stick to my plan, I make $3 a week.  If I miss a day, I pay them $20.  Quite the incentive to stick to my work out schedule.  It interfaces with RunKeeper as well, so my jogs and bike rides count towards my goal.

My goal is to get down to under 200 pounds.  This time for myself, not anyone else.  I’ve made these changes before, but for the wrong person.  I didn’t do them for me.  This time it’s going to be different.  This time it’ll be my own doing, for myself.  And I can’t wait.