That last post, eh? What a doozy, made me almost shed a tear for the past me, and I'll be honest everything I have written so far has been straight from the heart. All of this at the time I wanted to die with me but I began to realize that it would be very selfish of me to retain what little knowledge I have. I mean, I'm not saying I'm a higher being or whatever, but I have experienced things that some of you may not have, or did. I just want to show you all how it is through my eyes and how choices, no matter how little, can affect the entirety of your life. Sometimes we make bad decisions and follow through with them only to face failure, but it is when you accept failure that you actually begin to follow the path to success. Everyone goes through ruts, a time and phase where everything around you comes to a stop. Where your life is in question and nothing makes sense anymore. There are those who will help you and those who will gradually bring you down, without remorse. Only when you accept your rut, and then begin to think of ways to get out, will you find happiness. Whether it be a loss of a loved one, breakup, got fired, bullied or whatever. Fear even. It's all the same when it comes to depression, life just sucks. Letting depression get the best of you, like it did me, is not the best choice. I've been to places that men only have nightmares of. I've seen things that would instill fear in the bravest of people. That is all part of life, and I chose all these paths. I do not regret a single thing however, because it is when I accepted all this that I began to see my true purpose in life.
Now, as I said before, the stupidest thing I could think of happened. I considered suicide. God damn, how the hell did I come to this, I thought. I mean, everyone has their serious moments and their goofy ones, but I was never considered to be super depressed to this level. I just didn't want to hear any of it, and thinking this would settle things once and for all. Before I could do anything rash, I gave a good friend a call. I told him my situation, and he started to laugh a little. He told me something that opened my eyes, made me feeling a little less alone. He said, " I've been there too man, believe me. It crossed my mind over and over but you know what I did? I moved on. You need to get the fuck out of that rut, and try and find yourself." I took those words to heart, and began slowly brainstorming of things to do. I didn't want to cook anymore, not yet, but I needed to do something. To get out of this rut, to figure something out. It all started with a call, to my brother.
I knew at the time he was working for some RCA warehouse, manual labor and the sort. He lived in Mississauga with his wife. He told me to come work with him, and even live with him until I got back on my feet. I did. Now I had no doubts I could work manual labor jobs, I mean I was a heavy set guy ( still am haha), clocking in at roughly 255 I felt like I could lift the world. Or eat it. I began my transition, to live with my brother in unfamiliar territory and fend for myself. Sure I would live with someone else, but I was taking care of myself. Almost like living on my own. It was nice. I finally got the job and began working, lifting heavy ass tube tvs and plasmas. This. Shit. Was. Heavy. Fuck everything else I said, I wasn't ready, the lightest tvs were roughly 20-25 pounds, which is nothing but they were rare. We had over 300 32 inch tube tvs. Roughly 125-150 pounds each. Great.
At this time I was slowly changing, beginning to look on the brighter side of life, not so much the glass is half empty kind of guy. I wanted to be different, to set apart from the old me. To change into something better, to improve myself. I wanted to cook, regardless of my job. I did so at home, making things out of whatever I had. I improved my knife skills and began cooking with different methods. I began to learn more. My brother started to teach me how to drive properly, giving me his car to practice. I was parking everyone's car at the end of the day, being a little more proud of myself. I never did any of these things because I was close minded before. I thought I knew everything, and anything about cooking and all that stuff. I was a budding cook, cocky as hell and stubborn as a mule. I didn't care for driving, it wasn't in my interests. I didn't care for reading too much, it would distract me from cooking. I never cared about learning my language, because it didn't appeal to me. All this changed, and so did I.
I was slowly becoming a little more upset with myself however, despite all the learning. I was still heavy as hell and sure, who cares what people think about me, but I wanted to be healthier. I mean, I don't want an athletic body of a bodybuilding champion, but I would like to know that I'll live past 40. Especially since diabetes is common in my family, I wanted to take care of myself. Who better to call than my budding bodybuilding friend, Markus. He's a crazy fuck, and wanted to work out with me for awhile. I decided it was best in my interests because if I could get leaner, it would not only help me, but also give him assurance that he's good in his field. It's like if I were to teach someone how to cook. He taught me everything about working out, how to maintain postures and breathing. When to raise the weight limit and when to lower. How to exert the muscles and how to stretch. Sure it sounds easy to just go to a gym, lift some weights and run a bit but I wanted to do it right. Just like my cooking, you learn through trial an error. I was put on a strict diet that consisted mainly of protein. I was eating 4 6-8oz chicken breasts, 2 10oz steaks, 1 sweet potato, pound of spinach, 12 egg whites, 2 slices of toast, 4 spoons of almond butter and 2 scoops of whey protein a day. Fuck yeah!
I don't know how but this all helped. The gym schedule I was given was basic but it gradually got harder with each day. In the beginning I was lifting light weights and dumbbells the size of your palm. In three months I was easily going through leg presses with 5 45's on each side, and curling over 50 on each hand. Sure it's not crazy big but it was an improvement. I lost weight without noticing, even though I was eating like a horse. In the end, after 13 weeks of manual labor, hard workouts and tons of meals, I lost 40 pounds. I was happy with myself, especially because I got to eat some kickass food and lose weight at the same time. And there was this chick I was working with, Dasha, who was a smoking hot russian chick who started to dig me a little more. Sure the gym helped out, but it was my suave, I swear. Kind of wish we went a little farther than just eating each others faces in her truck. She was pretty fudged up though, started talking about marriage and whatnot about her future. That's when the new Jp began to think properly. Fuck this bitch, I'm a new man! In the end I became something else. A whole new me. I left that job and wanted to pursue cooking again, although I wanted to start off small. I wanted to start from the beginning as if I didn't know a damn thing. I didn't want to take the little things for granted anymore, and just wanted to live my life to the fullest. I moved back with my parents, leaving behind my past woes. At this point in my life, I looked at everything with pure optimism, not like some douchegbag hippy. But in a new light, with a big fucking smile across my face. Jp 2.0 has begun!
No comments:
Post a Comment