Here I go Again...

"I don't know where I'm going, but I sure know where I've been.  Hanging on the promises in the songs of yesterday, and I've made up my mind.  I ain't wastin' no more time.  Here I go again."

Pretty fitting song lyrics for me.  I'm not going to go into the history of my struggles with my weight.  I've done that already in a previous post. I've gotten back on the weight loss horse, and decided I should blog again, I was about to create a blog, until I was reminded that I already have one.  So here I am again. 
I recently turned 30 years old.  It was a real eye opener for me.  Here I am 30 years old after years of struggling with my weight, and no matter how hard I fight, I get knocked down and I stay down.  I can't do that anymore.  I can't keep up steam for a month and let go for another year. I'm running out of time.  I've gotten to a point where I get major anxiety that sometimes keeps me up at night.  Every time I feel the slightest pain or pressure..I get scared.  I get scared that this is it, and I'm going to die of a heart attack at the age of 30. It's been an obsession for months.  I can't live in terror anymore.  Living in terror of death isn't living.  While thinking about my anxiety and why I have it, I think I have put a pin point on what is going on with me.
When I was younger, my maternal grandmother was quite overweight, and had a few heart attacks in her life, and at the age of 50 she died of heart problems. I also remember my mother scolding me about my weight for years after, even into adulthood, threatening that I too would die young of a heart attack.  Then a few months ago, the man that owned the local comic book store dropped dead of a heart attack too, he was in his 50's.   After John died, everything came back to me.  My Grandmother, My mother's threats, and the incident that happened two years ago when I thought I was having a heart attack.
I am at a point where I can't live like this.  I can't live in fear.  I don't want to.  I don't want to die.  I want to live.  I'm only 30 years old, and I want to enjoy life while I still can.  I've been fat as long as I can remember.  To those reading, I'm going to let you in on a secret: I'm an actor, and a good one.  I get complimented all the time on my confidence..but people don't know that my confidence is fake.  I'm not confident at all.  I pretend that I'm sexy.  I pretend that I'm fat and happy and proud of my body and it's a lie.  I'm not.  I look in the mirror and I feel like a monster.  I feel like I'm disgusting. I have man tits.  Men don't have tits! Well...they aren't supposed to at least. I want so badly to actually say that I love myself and actually MEAN it.  I want to look in the mirror and be happy with who is looking back at me. I want to be healthy and have kids an a family and I can't do all that looking like this.
Maybe two weeks ago, I was at my friend Angie's house.  She too is trying to lose some weight, and we have a friend named Calvin who was doing "Challenges" for his friends trying to lose weight.  The challenge of the week that Angie told me about was doing push ups.  I hadn't done push ups since middle school. I thought it sounded like a cool idea when Angie told me about it and said I can't do push ups, but I'll start next week.
Angie would have none of it. She told me about "Girl Pushups" which to me sounded like it wasn't a work out, but I was wrong. She commanded me to do them with her, and I did, and my arms killed. If she hadn't pushed me, I probably wouldn't have the courage to get back into this.  So now, thanks to Angie, who pushes me the way I need to be pushed, I'm doing Calvin's weekly challenges, and working out at the gym again. I'm feeling good.  I need to be pushed.  So I'm thankful to have friends that are here to push me and make me do what I need to because they care about my health.

Why am I blogging all this? Does anyone care? Honestly, if people wanna read this, great.  I'm mainly doing this for me. I'm an emotional eater.  I keep my emotions and feelings (Most of them..and the ones I'm ashamed of) bottled deep inside of me, so I eat.  I eat when I'm stressed, angry, sad and bored. I figure, maybe if I learn to let my feelings..all of my feelings..out through writing, I can tackle my eating problem while I work.  As I write this, I'm about 375 lbs. I'm down from the last time I blogged..which is good.

Well..that's all for now.  I'd like to blog more regularly. I think tomorrow I'll write about my relationship with Soda.

So thanks for reading..if you're reading this.  And A special thank you to Angie and Calvin and everyone else who is supportive and pushing me. Thank you.