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A while ago, someone asked about how we keep ourselves motivated.
I’ve made
no secret from whence I came. I’ve always been somewhat out of step with the rest of society.
I’ve
lived a life of solitude and perjured myself in thought. Overcome by societal constraints and conjecture. Feeling disquieted
in my existence. Feeling detached from self and communities offer of fellowship. Ever the one between the cracks. Rarely noticed
and rarely worthy of note.
I’ve never quite fit in anywhere. My attitudes
and relationships may very well be as a result of my enormous girth although that is clearly not the only reason for my outcast
state. In school, I did not socialize much with the “in” crowd nor with those not so affectionately known as the
“nerds”. I was not picked on really. I was more apt to defend those that were. But even then, the scornful blade
of the popular did not fall down upon my exposed jugular.
My favourite
word is respect. Give respect and you shall receive respect. I’ve long lived by those words. It may not be true all
of the time, but I believe they are valiant words to subscribe to. I like to think I respect others, and in turn, respect
is reciprocated. I have had to relieve people of their duties for various legitimate reasons...they always left apologizing
to me for what they had done. I hope that is because they realize that they betrayed the respect I had given them. Having
to fire someone is never a pleasant thing to do but even this most difficult and uncomfortable task can be performed with
a degree of respect.
I think at times my willingness to give respect has been to a fault. There have been times where
it resulted in the proverbial knife in the back. The times where it hurt the most was when my closest of friends took advantage.
Currently at work, I have lost all respect for many of the people I work for directly, and to the company as a whole. This
is why I look elsewhere for employment. It has gotten to the point where I do not believe there is anything they could do
or say that would make me trust or respect them again.
We are as to cattle
it seems. Deceitfully fed and primed for slaughter. One hand reaches out with disingenuous respect while the other holds the
butcher’s bloody knife
The one thing I have long ago lost respect
for though...was me. When I looked at that mirror, it did not reflect someone with morals and ethics. I did not see pride
or accomplishment. I did not see strength of character or someone with an eye towards the future.
Where once I cast my dreams upon the tails of wishing stars my gaze has turned to starless skies through tired
eyes
In my 20’s I surrounded myself with possessions. Satellite dishes,
cars, stereos, computers, games. They became my friends. They were what I spent time with. Far less judgmental than flesh
and bone. They were safer. They were escapism. They were bricks in my wall. They were lies.
As I’ve grown in
age and maturity as a man, I’ve come to realize what really is important in life and it has nothing to do with possessions.
I fell in love. Deeply in love. The experience was overwhelming.
How can
one person so change my existence? Embolden my spirit with but a smile. Are you aware of how you make me feel? Roused anew
with deliberations of a future. Thoughts turned to us rather than me. And of a life together based on love and respect. Surely
this is but a sweet dream about to unravel with morning’s light.
And
unravel it did. This love I felt was an epiphany. It was the most important moment in my life. Perspective changed. It was
the single most important thing to have ever happened to me and it almost killed me. I had long ago realized that respect
was not always returned, especially respect of a genuine nature. But this was different. This was a knife in my soul.
The heavy burden of regret has dropped me to my knees and I am weary of the struggle to gain my feet.
It went downward form there. Already obese, I took that talent to new depths. This was a wound
that would not heal. If I could not trust her, how shall I ever trust again? I had always known there was a possibility it
may never work but I was ill prepared for the manner in which it ended. I was ill prepared to have memories turned to lies.
I was ill prepared to have someone whom I respected so very much, show so very little for me.
Adrift beneath a starless sky. Pon the turbulent seas of an unquiet mind, waters of the deepest black raged
against my hull.
My wardrobe became all black. Black pants, black shirt,
black socks, black shoes...heck...even black underwear. I wallowed in self-pity. I secluded myself. It may sound somewhat
grand...but I lost respect for everyone and everything. I certainly lost what little respect I had for myself. Respect was
replaced with apathy and loathing.
“Kill a man and you’ve killed
a man. Kill yourself and you’ve killed all men.” Do I deserve credit for not having tried to end this journey.
Or was I afraid the exotic act would make me blunder. What is this blackness that has taken hold of me. This frightful condemnation.
This morbid spell which casts day to night.
I lived this way (if you can
call it living) for a year...perhaps more. I’m not entirely sure what led me to Atkins..or more importantly...what led
me away from certain destruction. God? Guardian angel? Self survival? I think the what and the why is indeed important, and
I shall continue to ponder these questions throughout my life.
I know not
where this light shall lead. Perhaps to another dark corner of my mind. But I shall follow non the less, if only for a short
respite from these darkest of thoughts.
That was last November. I have
followed the WOL faithfully, only deviating on Christmas day. That is not to say that I give credit to the WOL for my changing
existence. It is the means to an end. It is, if you will, a tool in the belt of self respect.
Lately I’ve been
dressing in blues and browns and reds. Upon telling a friend how I enjoyed wearing red, she reminded me that red is the color
of power and control. It’s been quite a long time since I’ve felt I’ve been in control of my life.
What
you see before you is a changed man. My heart, I hope, remains much the same as it ever was. I shall always be a romantic.
I shall always be, I hope, regarded as a moral person. I shall always approach others with a degree of empathy. So what has
changed has been not so much how I interact with others, but in how I interact with myself. What has changed is respect. No...not
in the respect I show to others nor in the respect that they show for me. What has changed is respect for myself.
Know what? I’m a pretty damn good guy. I’ve been a slow grower I think. At 41, I felt 31. At 30
I felt 20. At 20 I felt 15. I really do know what is important in life. There are more important things in life than plasma
tv’s, Pentium computers, and fancy clothes. It has more to do with a gentle kiss, with sharing laughter, with holding
a child in your arms. It has to do with living life to its fullest. With sharing your experiences and thoughts with others.
With loving and being loved.
The pain I have felt is material to the journal
of my life and I have scrawled many an erroneous line upon its yellowed pages but I am excited by the prospect of what shall
be penned upon the leaves yet to turn.
How do I keep myself motivated?
Simple. I respect me.
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