Why I gave up drinking, flavorless chicken, and guilt

A long, arduous day at work precipitates the urge to twist open a bottle of wine and bask in the nice relaxation it offers. There's nothing wrong with that, right? Of course not. Don Draper routinely swirls fine blended whiskey in his crystal tumblers, there's a 45 minute video on YouTube of Ron Swanson simply sipping on Lagavulin 16, and George Clooney looks superlatively dapper on the billboard ad featuring him holding a glass of premium tequila. In other words, media portrayals of imbibing abound. "It's five o'clock somewhere, right?"--the usual justification for pouring oneself a libation even when the current hour is perhaps not the universally accepted time for which salutations have been deemed conventionally acceptable to consume. But what happens when one libation turns into two, or when the rhythmic swirling of a crystal tumbler in hand occurs more routinely than you feel is appropriate?

I've had enough experience to understand that adopting healthy eating habits is very important to leading a balanced, energized life--I think the positive effects of good food are so understated, and I truly believe that many ailments (fatigue, colds, lack of strength) can easily be improved with healthier, more consistent consumption. However, the relationship you develop with the ritual of eating is equally as important as the food itself--I've born witness to so many instances wherein one's consumption is in some way predicated upon an underlying sense of guilt. People set unrealistic expectations of themselves, which in turn fosters this perversely negative association with food in general. You have to eat, you have to eat regularly, and you have to consume a nice balance of different foods. I'm not a nutritionist, I'm not a certified trainer, but I know intimately every chapter and verse regarding guilt. I've let it shape my life, dictate my thoughts, and I've allowed it to consume me. Over time, I've learned to let go of the guilt and adopt healthier conceptions of myself, both about my body and who I am as a person.

When my brother died, it broke me, fractured me completely. Before now, I have never admitted that to myself or acknowledged it before, ever. But there is no question, looking back and reflecting, that my mind was utterly shattered. I never confronted those feelings or took the time to grieve his passing, though; I just suppressed all those emotions associated with the devastation--I literally got up the next morning and went to the gym, proceeded thereafter to work, and persisted in as much of a normalcy as any situation of that solemnity could allow. To be honest, most of that month-long period of familial grieving is a blur. I chose to gloss over all that was unfolding before me with superficial lenses because I was in such shock the whole time. When you bury something so deep inside you, however, the pressure quietly builds, the bubbling liquid of which slowly creeps its way toward every nook and cranny, until eventually it spews over, either in a fantastic explosion or a steady flowing outpour of ooze. Repressed emotions will without question manifest themselves overtly at some point, likely in unhealthy capacities.

I found some fleeting sense of solace in exercise. I liked the way it made me feel, the natural flow of endorphins that could lift me up and leave me feeling more positive afterward. My predilection for diet and exercise became hyper-obsessive, however, bordering on the insane. I would exert such mental forethought into the preparation of all my meals for any given day or extended period of time during which I might be away from the kitchen. I centered all my attention on the clock and ensured that I would intake sustenance at the exact hour on which I was supposed to eat. Making it to the gym became a religious devotion as opposed to a healthy outlet. If I didn't have access to food, and especially good food, I would become visibly stressed. There's no question now, looking back, that I exhibited many tell-tale signs of an eating disorder. When the insistence on adhering to something becomes so great that it overwhelms all other rational thought and flexibility to adapt, I think one could argue that it's mostly unhealthy at that point. But I was so traumatized by the unexpected death of my brother, that I subsequently turned toward things I felt I could control, chief among which were what I ate and when I exercised. I was so scared of the bottom potentially dropping out from underneath me unexpectedly again that I poured all of my thoughts and efforts into carrying out daily routines with unwavering discipline, because at least in that way I could feel like I retained some semblance of control in my life. I had been wanting to get a tattoo for a while, and losing my kin felt like as good of an impetus as any to follow through with that inclination; I got tattooed on my side the Chinese characters for human emotions--"happiness, anger, sadness, joy, younger brother"--my philosophy was that no matter what may befall me, regardless of what situations I might possibly encounter, I could always retain complete control over my own emotions and possess total agency concerning them. But that's not living, that's not being truly human. You're entitled to bask in whatever sentiment washes over you in a given situation: if you feel sad, then absorb it; if anger overcomes you, process it; when you encounter something joyous, revel in the positivity. I lived in a perpetual state of monotonous stoicism, going so far as to even perversely deny myself the possibility of savoring happy instances because I feared encountering anything that possessed too much intensity. I took healthy consumption so far to the other end of the spectrum, literally embodying the mantra behind eating food of such nature: "I eat bland chicken and steamed broccoli because it gives me sustained energy and reduces any spikes in blood sugar levels and subsequent crashes." I couldn't even allow my "life sugar" to "spike." Squat, press, jump, chicken, yam, sleep, repeat. That was it. That was all I allowed myself to experience.

You can only repeat the same things, though, for so long before even the most unwavering resolve begins to falter. I couldn't live a balanced life because I was motivated purely by guilt. My brother suffered from hypertension, obesity, and was on the cusp of becoming diabetic. I made one off-handed remark of disapproval one time when he got Nutrisystem, which I later found out he had heard me say. I carried the unfathomably heavy weight of that guilt after he died around with me everywhere I went. In some masochistic, perverse capacity I would punish myself in the gym, using that guilt as counter-productive fuel to torture myself. At my leanest, I was probably around 6% body fat--I had to eat every two hours, at most, or else I would get light headed and my energy would immediately drop off. Yet, when I would stare at myself in the mirror, naked, bare, I couldn't fucking stand the way I looked. I hated everything about my appearance and I perceived myself as never being strong enough. My repressed feelings manifested themselves in the form of exercise fueled by self-loathing, but eventually even I got burned out by bland chicken and steamed broccoli.

You know, I used to drink too much, an unsavory habit for which I paid a dear price. I used to cut myself down too deeply because I doubted my own self worth. And although I've said the words, "I love you," it has dawned on me that I'll never fully be able to embody the notions of unbridled affection for another person until I can relinquish my own perverse self-imposed conceptions of inadequacy. Drinking brought out the worst in me. I'm not an outwardly destructive person, but much rather the opposite; lessening of my inhibitions would precipitate sentiments of self-deprecation and self-sabotage, which I would project back onto myself. With any sort of implosion, though, there is always collateral damage, and the person closest to me was affected by it most significantly. She stood by me during my bouts of emotional undermining with unwavering patience, but I drove too large a wedge between myself and those closest to me because I feared the possible scenario of being vulnerable in front of anyone. Eventually, she left me and I woke up to an epiphany: I was standing alone, on an island of solitude, because I had driven all those close to me away; furthermore, I chose to inhibit my own potential to experience sensations because I feared the unknown--and whiskey became an accessory to that aim. That's why I like the same shows, to do the same things, eat the same foods, and do the same routines. One friend put it to me aptly: "Keta, I couldn't even imagine you taking off for the weekend on an impromptu trip because you'd become too absorbed in the process of trying to conceive of how you'd pack your foods and work around your routines." But I was fueled by guilt--the guilt of deviating from a routine and a fear of encountering the unknown.

What I'm driving at, specifically, is the guilt associated with consumption habits. I feel people develop negative connotations related to food and eating, which in turn fosters an unhealthy and unwelcoming environment for trying to nurture positive consumption practices. I suffered from severe body dysmorphia, which is why I adhered religiously to a diet of little else other than bland chicken (literally not even salt and pepper) and steamed broccoli--I've eaten enough for two lifetimes' worth. And when I couldn't stomach those two foods alone any longer, whiskey abetted in my effort to numb guilt and subdue fear. Now I employ a much mentally healthier and balanced approach to consumption: 90% of the time I eat very cleanly--oatmeal, eggs, vegetables, lean meats, etc.--and 10% of the time I eat whatever I want. I consume entire pizzas, burgers, chips, and whatever else once or twice a week. I don't drink anymore, but when I go out with friends, I clean out the kitchens at bars. Life is about balance and it took me a long time to realize that. I also recognize that my own personal experiences with guilt and the way it shaped my consumption habits are mine alone--but I guess I'm driving at the importance of examining one's own eating habits and how critical the thought processes that motivate them are. I'm far from perfect insofar as my own emotional dispositions are concerned, but I'm at least at a place now where I can acknowledge myself in a much more forgiving manner.

I think life deserves a balance between self-improvement and also an appreciation for your current state. Remaining content with where you're at fosters complacency, which is no good. But if you don't keep positive thoughts about your personal self-image in perspective, then you'll never be satisfied, which is also no good. And while my own example of perverse devotion to routines with religious adherence is an unhealthy illustration, there is no question that improvement requires discipline and consistency. The biggest mistake I see people make is adopt some small healthy improvements, but then desist prematurely when they feel discouraged at their progress or if they cheat. Your body goes through natural fluctuations, for one--so, don't beat yourself over that. And I just really think it's important to first ask yourself what your goals are--then, examine the palpable things that drive those motivations of yours and confirm that they're healthy. Personally speaking, mine was guilt, which took me a long time to recognize was all-consuming and wrong. While the goal to look good aesthetically is an admirable one, exercise is about so much more than that. I like to exercise because I like to feel strong. I don't mean strength insofar as how much weight I can or can't move—I’m talking about a puissance that originates from within. That sense of overwhelming accomplishment you get when you encounter a physical barrier you're unable to traverse, but through sheer force of will and unwavering attempts, you vanquish that which hitherto impeded your progress. The indefinite physical response to the stimulus of exercise. That’s what I love. I still eat a lot of chicken--nearly every day--I just make sure to season it liberally and I don't beat myself up when I garnish it with pizza on the side. Balance.

"Calvin : There's no problem so awful, that you can't add some guilt to it and make it even worse.” 
Calvin & Hobbes 

Questions for introspection about your consumption habits:
What's the first thing you eat in the morning and at what time? Breakfast is paramount--I'm talking about a real breakfast, not just one yogurt cup and a protein bar.

How often do you pack a lunch versus getting something quick whilst at work?

How much water on average do you consume in a day? Is your urine clear or at least mostly?

How many meals a day do you eat? If you exercise even just moderately, the answer really should be at least four. It's such a huge misconception people have that if you want to look good you have to eat less and less often. Really, the answer is you have to eat more regularly--the net volume doesn't necessarily have to be more, but you really ought to be eating every three hours at most.

A New Year's Resolution: Learn to Love Yourself

It has been a long time since I last posted anything regarding physical fitness and wellness. In fact, it has been over a year since I articulated my reflections on physical and spiritual well-being in relation to health and wellness. But in light of recent events, and given the symbology of what the commencement of a new year represents in terms of fitness goals, I figure now is as good of time as any. 

Your life takes many turns: throughout the course of your existence, your thoughts, opinions, passions, and outlooks change--everything about who you are is constantly evolving, transforming and traveling multidirectionally in an all-encompassing fashion. In other words, while time may move linearly in a perennially forward fashion, you as a person travel back and forth and everywhere in between. I have always been a tremendous proponent of physical fitness and wellness. I believe with great conviction that a balanced diet and a consistent exercise program significantly help mitigate many psychological and physiological ailments. Over the course of recent history, however, I have lost sight of the pillars that serve to support healthy living. I traded positive thinking toward healthy dieting and exercise instead for selfish behaviors and a heightened disregard for everything that I have championed in relation to pursuing a salubrious life. 

I started this blog a long time ago under the pretense that your body is not nearly as strong as the spirit that embodies it. Personal strength has nothing to do with the amount of weight you can lift or the distance you can run; true strength originates from an inner capacity to endure when adversity tests your resolve. Over the past few months, I took a downward spiraling journey to the edge of myself and made it back with an ever-greater sense of clarity regarding healthy living--but the collateral damage I caused has been a poignant reminder to me just how much your actions can directly or indirectly affect those who matter to you most. That is why this new year I think it is important to learn how to love yourself. Only then can you truly commence on an auspicious journey toward successful self-cultivation. My subsequent sentiments and thoughts are not grounded in any absolute research that I have conducted; instead, they are salient observations I have made regarding my own personal journey and the pain I've both endured and inflicted over the course of recent history. I don't mean any complex diction or ornate syntax--these words come from the heart and are intended for anyone who could use a flicker of light to ignite the flame toward personal physical and emotional improvement this year. 

Not too long ago, personal strife and stress compelled me to adopt unhealthy lifestyle habits. I always looked to exercise as a healthy outlet to channel my anxieties, but certain events proved too overwhelming and I eventually succumbed to poor dietary consumption tendencies. My negative transition didn't transpire in an expedient fashion; rather, it slid slowly down a negatively sliding scale over the course of a steady period. I still ate relatively healthily, but my lifestyle as a whole became less fulfilled with salubrious practices. For instance, I started to sleep irregularly, I ate less consistently, and my diet did not always consist of well-balanced sustenance. Furthermore, I started to consume other unhealthy items that negatively impacted my well-being. The winds of life's stresses blew me off course and my bearings became misaligned. The incorrect heading, though, was so minute at first that I did not recognize any real cause for concern. I still exercised regularly (albeit not as frequently), I had my health, I was with the love of my life, and I remained in good contact with my friends. Slowly, however, time slipped away and with it so did a lucid perspective of myself. 

A large part of the reason why I believe that diet and exercise play such important roles in one's overall well-being is because of their positive emotional impacts. I have always maintained that exercise is far less about seeking physical gains as it is about spiritual and emotional improvement. That being said, my steadily unhealthy lifestyle habits began to take their toll on my emotional wherewithal. We are in large part products of what we consume: all that we put in our bodies, all that we embody as people, and all the choices we make, in turn, become the energy we exude as individuals. My negative consumption slowly begot more negativity and eventually my aura became jaded and tainted with the offensive miasma of emotional downtrodden tendencies. I exhibited mood swings and became generally pessimistic, at first in regards to daily doings, but eventually I started to project that negativity back on myself in relation to larger facets of my own life. I would get down on myself and undercut my own abilities as a person. Furthermore, I would bear the emotional weight of past transgressions, which would then manifest themselves in periodic outbursts of self-deprecation and unappreciation of myself as a person. Those who I hold dearest in my heart, the one I love the most in particular, expressed concern and encouraged me to seek counseling as a means of soliciting another positive channel through which I could unpack these emotional misgivings with which I had not dealt. I heard all the suggestions, the pleas, but I did not listen--I did not yield to the signs that so clearly indicated with great clarity the need for altering my course less I desired imminent implosion, which, ultimately, became an inevitability.  

In a cataclysmic culmination of my downward journey, I eventually found myself standing alone amidst my own ashes. It was in that moment that I learned something truly invaluable: when you spend so much time tearing down the walls and edifices that surround you, you will eventually find yourself standing in solitude amidst the rubble and destruction. You see, when you begin to implode and those who love you most sense the imminent fallout, they instinctively flee out of self-preservation. Would you stand inside a building you knew was about to explode and knowingly render yourself a hapless victim of the collateral damage? It was in this instantly sobering moment that I realized just how much destruction I had wrought, both upon myself and upon the lovingly supportive pillars around me that I had in friends, relationship, and life. This sudden epiphany elucidated so clearly just how far from the path of healthy spiritual and physical practice I had diverged. I realized that my unhealthy practices and negative thinking were ultimately nothing more than truly selfish behaviors. I always believed that "selfishness" primarily connotated withholding things for oneself and depriving others of those things; I now realize that in elementary terms, yes, that is the simplest way to define "selfishness." True selfishness, though, is knowingly or unknowingly behaving in such a way that negatively impacts those around you, and displaying resistance to alter such behavior in the face of concern or suggestion. I realized in this selfish capacity, I had driven away the ones who matter most to me. 

It is at once immensely heartbreaking and liberating to look in the mirror and understand with true recognition that you are solely responsible for your own unraveling. Placing blame on something else or skirting responsibility is so much easier to rationalize and live with, but in doing so you only exacerbate the larger issue at hand. I am now highly conscious of the fact that I need to realign my perspective and focus on self-cultivation. Words can be fleeting as actions carry so much more weight: I live my life with greater purpose toward positivity and I make an intentional point in my daily doings to exude kindness, love, and care. When you make a choice to relinquish your frustration and pessimism and exhibit love instead, it's amazing what you receive in return. Yes, the aforementioned is a cliche, but the net effect is nonetheless impressive all the same. I'm not saying that I don't live with some ounce of regret and immense disappointment within myself. It's a poignant fact with which I must live knowing that it took such cataclysm for me to garner a transparent grasp of myself and recognize the wrong path down which I was headed. If I could turn back time and instead take a right-hand turn all the times I went left, I would in an instant. In that way, the collateral damage would not have been nearly as bad and I wouldn't have to live with that sad reminder.  

But regret is a terrible weight to carry around and no good ever comes of it. I know for a fact. For the longest time, I carried the guilt and regret of my brother's death around my ankles like an anvil. I would punish myself out of some perverse retribution for his loss, and in doing so, I blotched out a lot of love, positivity, and opportunity. I now reflect on his life in sanguine terms: I'm thankful for the time I had with him and I know I am a better person because of the impact he had on me. I carry those lessons forward, even in the face of these most recent events, and focus on the silver lining: I am a better person now than I was before because of the newfound self-recognition I possess. I am not perfect and that is okay. Perfection is an illusion not worth chasing; rather, the practice of self-betterment and the desire to improve oneself is a much worthier endeavor. 

How does this relate to physical fitness on the cusp of a new year? Don't beat yourself up and don't get down on yourself when you encounter adversity. Change doesn't happen overnight, both in terms of emotional improvement and physical transformation. Furthermore, when you fall off the beaten path or falter under your own weight, remember that you are not infallible and that you shouldn't expect yourself to be. Absorb the discomfort and channel it through positive outlets like exercise, healthy eating, and hobbies. January of every new year is always laden with the ethos of physical transformation; the inherent theme of this self-betterment is well-intentioned, but remember that what is most important is to set reasonable goals for yourself and stick to them. Draw inspiration from what fuels you and use it to motivate yourself during those times when your resolve begins to waver. Above all else, though, learn to love yourself. Life's underlying driving factor is perpetual improvement--how can we make this or that better? The alternative is complacency, which I absolutely agree is intolerable. But in your quest to become better, retain the perspective that you do have a tremendous amount to offer. Maybe in saying this I'm actually inadvertently projecting so as to hear myself reaffirmingly say it--I honestly don't know for sure. At any rate, it's a point worth remembering. 

"There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self." -Ernest Hemingway