Tall Poppy Syndrome, or A Pilgrim's Regress

(Warning: here's where I'm going to get a little controversial.  I'm also going to seem like I'm tooting my own horn, but it's to make a point.)

I have been a Christian since I was 14 years old (just after my 14th birthday, in fact).  That, in itself, is not the problem.  The voice of Christ has guided me through some really hard times--sometimes literally the point of death--over the years.  I would never, ever betray His teachings or His sacrifice, and I am forever grateful for the many wonderful brothers and sisters in the Lord I've known over the years.

Fundamentalism, however, is a different story.

Consider this verse, perhaps one of the most abused passages in Scripture if one stops to think about it:

"For I say, through the grace given to me, to everyone among you, not to think more highly of himself than he ought to think." (Romans 12:3)

A responsible reading of this text (and I've had some good pastors over the past couple of years set me right) is that Paul is cautioning the Roman church against arrogance.  No one is better than anyone else in the eyes of God, and all are to be treated equally.  This is a key part of Jesus' teachings--He even smacks down two of His disciples for such arrogance (Mark 10:35-40).

Unfortunately there are a lot of irresponsible teachers out there.  A lot!

Paul's simple admonition against arrogance has been twisted by many Fundamentalist teachers to something akin to "Don't think you're better than anyone else because you're smarter/faster/stronger/etc.  Don't even try to improve yourself, because that's putting yourself above your fellow Christians and in fact it's in direct disobedience to God's Will.  Who are you to say that what God has already given you isn't good enough?"  I've seen this time and time again.  My grandmother, God rest her soul, used to warn my mother and me about thinking we could better ourselves: "You keep thinking that way and something's going to happen to you!"

Of course, this sort of teaching flatly contradicts Scripture: Paul himself was an incredibly learned man for his time, as was Luke. Paul also said, "Whatever you do, do your work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men." (Colossians 3:23).  God wants our very best physically, mentally, and spiritually.  He will not settle for mediocrity.(Mark 12:30 is pretty plain on that one).

I had it very, very rough in church for a while.  It's well that many non-Christians have a bumper sticker that says, "Jesus Save Me From Your Followers".  Fundamentalists take the Tall Poppy Syndrome to an extreme.  Anti-intellectualism is not only an outcome, it's a basic requirement to join the club.  This is not news; it's something many churches proudly advertise.

(This isn't exclusive to academically-inclined people, either.  I was inspired in part to write this by the experience of a high school friend of mine who was a star athlete with real potential, but told by his pastor to drop sports because they were 'worldly'--while that same pastor's son went on to wrestling scholarships. Any attempt to raise oneself above the norm gets punished harshly!  These pastors probably didn't read Harrison Bergeron, as Kurt Vonnegut is about as far away from their usual reading material as one could get, but they definitely got the idea behind it.)

Now here's where I'm going to sound like I'm bragging, but I'm really not--I'm just giving background.  I tested as gifted very early in life.  In the 1970s not much was known about learning disabilities and almost nothing was known about autism spectrum disorders.  I was just a really bright kid who couldn't navigate social situations, and as a result I underperformed in the lower grades because I couldn't handle the other kids and the teachers couldn't handle me.  The situation was compounded by moving frequently from school to school (consequence of growing up in a military family, which leads to a whole different set of prejudices on the part of the public school system).  The new school would, inevitably, fail to look at the previous school's records, and any progress I may have made had to be repeated all over again.  In 4th grade I was in a gifted program where I did well; the following year we moved to where I would eventually complete grades 5-12.  Because of the disconnect, I was slotted into the special ed program.

Then the test scores came in: Stanford-Binet IQ score of 150.  I was probably the only student in that school district to date that had moved from the special ed program to the gifted program inside of a month!  I suffered the usual isolation one gets from that sort of thing, but managed to navigate through the bullying. Karate classes helped.  A father who was a Marine DI and who taught me a few things sensei didn't helped even more.  It also helped that Dad wasn't afraid to tell the principal to go to hell six different ways when that principal wanted to suspend me for sending a bully to the hospital once.  Not that we hadn't tried dealing with things according to the rules first, but rules only work when they're enforced!

(I never got that suspension, probably because the principal was too busy changing his underwear after my father got through with him.  If I didn't thank you before, Dad, thank you!)

But I digress.  Flash-forward to college where I fell in with my first genuine crop of honest-to-goodness Fundamentalists.  Something about the college environment makes one's beliefs more extreme no matter what they are.  I ended up going to an extremely charismatic church that taught such things as the influence of demons on un-Biblical political and social opinions (read: everything the pastor personally disapproved of) and emphatically believed that time not spent focusing on furthering the agenda of the church was time wasted.  Note that I said furthering the agenda of the church, not necessarily God's agenda.  I was being told in church that the world was 6,000 years old while learning and demonstrating to myself that the world is considerably older than that.  Cognitive dissonance?  You betcha!

Men who wanted to do something other than become missionaries or blue collar workers?  Arrogant.  Women who dared to have an original thought of their own not related to child care or housekeeping? Against the natural state of womanhood!  Black or Hispanic?  We love you--now go to your own churches, thank you very much.  Gay? Don't even think about mentioning it!  And of course everyone votes Republican, because they're the party of God--"There is no God but Reagan and Bush is His Prophet" could have been their motto.  Thank you Richard Nixon for screwing both the church and a respectable political party with the same strategy!

Groupthink in action, in other words.  Very rigid, very linear thinking.  Thinking outside the box was not only impossible, but feared: outside the box lay damnation itself.

I spent ten years of my life in this maelstrom, going from one Fundamentalist church to another.  I sacrificed my academic career in the pursuit of mediocrity.  Why? you may ask.  That's easy.  For the first time in my life I had friends I felt I could count on! The sacrifice, at the time, seemed worth it.

As someone on the autism spectrum I have a very difficult time making close connections with people.  I've had no more than five people at any one time I've felt really, really close to.  And dating?  That was always a nightmare! (There's another interesting feature of these churches: if you're a man and not married or dating after the age of 18, and remain single for an arbitrarily long period of time, you're presumed to be gay and treated accordingly.  I've been on the receiving end of it, which is why I'm a staunch supporter of gay rights today: nobody, gay or straight, should have to endure that sort of treatment!  They forget that Jesus was single, I think.)  In the Fundamentalist environment, it's easier: as long as you can hack the algorithm you can make all the friends you want, and even get to date at some point (although if you're not 'spiritually mature' in the eyes of the woman, good luck! The two best relationships I had during that period were with women not of the tribe--yet another taboo--and though all three of us have moved on to better things I'm still in touch with them today and on good terms.  I don't even know where those other women are. I didn't know it at the time, but I was actually being shown more genuine friendship by them than by my supposed 'equally yoked' brethren!  God does move in mysterious ways!)

And remember what I said about actually enforcing the rules?  Yep.  All are equal in the eyes of God, but some are more equal than others.  That's why you treat your pastor like a king and your wife like a slave (and I've seen some horrible treatment of women!)  Even outside the marriage context men were encouraged to mistreat women.  I remember one conversation I had with a former friend of mine who was complaining that his girlfriend wouldn't do what he says (and rightfully so; this guy wasn't exactly on the far right end of the bell curve, or even close to the middle).  "The Bible says that women must submit to men!" he told me.

"No, it doesn't," I answered.  "It says that a wife should submit to her husband, not any woman to any man.  Otherwise I could make your mother submit to me, and how would you like that?"

We never spoke again after that conversation.  No loss.  I figured out later just what he was trying to get his girlfriend to 'submit' to, which I guess is why my comment set him off.

I finally got fed up right after the 9/11 attacks and a sermon I heard at a church not far from here.  Roughly 3/4 of the sermon was in praise of the President.  I could count on one hand the number of times Jesus was mentioned.  Idolatry much?  I approached the pastor of this church after the service with some questions I had.  His response: "I think there are some guys out in the parking lot who'd like to have a word with you!"

I couldn't believe it!  This supposed man of God was threatening me!  Fortunately I was in much better shape then than I am now (although not at my peak by any means).  "Good--I could use some karate practice!" I told him as I turned away from him, shook the dust from my feet, and never entered that church or any other from that franchise again.

I went to a smaller church instead, one with barely three dozen people and a pastor struggling to heal a church split from the previous year.  He and I saw eye to eye on lots of things; were it not for him I may have fallen away completely.  He helped me through some of what I experienced and to this day even though he's no longer active in ministry I still count him as one of the best spiritual teachers I've ever had.  It was he who presided over our wedding (and who brought Sandy back into the fold after some similar experiences of hers).  When we moved to Lake Elsinore we found another small, local church with an equally gifted teacher who helped us through some very rough spots.  He, too, I miss greatly.

The church I'm attending now I selected after very careful consideration and so far none of these extremist tendencies have shown their head officially (although, being in Orange County, I probably couldn't swing a dead cat in the middle of Sunday service without hitting at least five Fundamentalists).  In fact, they seek to do the will of God by (wait for it!) actually reaching out to the community around them and providing meaningful material help, rather than a tract and an empty promise of prayer! I praise God for finding me such a strong, sound family (even if it's quite a bit bigger than I've gotten used to).

So, that's how I was lost, but now am found; was blind but now I see. At least out of my good eye!

Week 7: Back In The Saddle Again!

Last week's number: 314.1 pounds
This week's number: 309.1 pounds
Week-to-week loss: 5.0 pounds
Net loss: 40.5 pounds

By this time next week, I most likely will have lost my son's weight in fat! It's a weird notion, to think that I've lost the equivalent of a 6-year-old who thinks he's Mario half the time. ;-)  But by next year, I will have lost the equivalent weight of an adult woman (albeit one on the petite side).  Carrying around basically another human being full-time can't be good for you!

And here I thought I'd reached a plateau!  After last week's weigh-in, I redoubled my exercise efforts, putting more time in on the treadmill and adding calisthenics to the workout as well.  On Monday night I passed the 2-mile threshold on the treadmill; last night I broke 2.5 miles.  My goal is to do 3 miles on the treadmill in one hour; from there I'll increase speed.  I am really, really serious about running the Spartan Run next year!  It will be the capstone achievement for this whole program!

Overall the encouragement I've gotten while I've been on this program has been simply amazing.  I thank everyone for it every day.  But still, there are a few dissenting voices who ask why I even bother.  The answer is simple:

I have had enough of mediocrity and missed expectations in my life!

It was mediocrity that got me to where I am now physically.  It was an unwillingness to supply more effort than needed that stalled my professional and academic careers for years.  It has ruined relationships, led me to think less of myself in general, and overall made me miserable.

And I think I have a fairly good idea where this spirit of mediocrity started, too.  It certainly didn't come from my parents: both of them accomplished their goals in life and demanded nothing but the best effort from my brothers and me.  They, too, have been very supportive.  Unfortunately I did this to myself, and at the time it was with the best of intentions.

I'll cover that more in my next post.  Warning: if you don't like controversy, you may want to skip that one.

Week 6 Results and Struggles

Last week's number: 317.2 pounds
This week's number: 314.1 pounds
Week-to-week loss: 3.1 pounds
Net loss: 36.5 pounds

I was really hoping to break the 40-pound mark this week, particularly since I've started seriously exercising for the first time since we got kids back in 2007.  I'm told that weight loss numbers always decrease at the beginning of an exercise regimen because of muscle inflammation (actual muscle gain takes several weeks) but that this should reverse itself in another two to three weeks.

So I've reconciled myself to the low number, as I am in fact building (or rebuilding) a good habit: regular exercise!  One of my goals for the week was to exercise a minimum of 20 minutes a day for 5 days out of 7. I've managed to exceed that number for 6 days out of 7.  Tuesday night I was introduced to the Thera-Band for the first time (all hail the Thera-Band!)  and tonight I added some stretching and calisthenics to the mix.

That's about the only objective I've kept.  I still need to work out a weekly schedule.  The Man Cave is still only about 85% complete, partly because I found two more boxes that need to be unpacked, and partly because I'm rethinking a few things.  I did pick up a Life Journal at church on Sunday but other than a brief Bible study on my lunch break today I haven't done any devotional reading (or any other reading besides classwork).  Most disappointing of all, while I did get the household repairs done, I haven't finished fixing the kids' toys.  In particular, Alex's bike needs a new inner tube.  This weekend, that's going to happen!

I just have to keep thinking of the old Japanese proverb: "Fall down seven times, stand up eight."  I can continue to work on the objectives I've laid out.  I will get my schedule straight, I will get everything fixed, I will get this garage organized, and I will get some reading done (although my classic for the month may not get finished--Gravity's Rainbow was perhaps not the best choice to start with).

And in the meantime, I'll continue using my weight loss products, continue working out, and see what number comes up on the scale next week!

I have been remiss...

...in not congratulating Sandy publicly sooner for finishing her first week on the diet!  She's managed to drop six pounds so far!  I love you--together we will get through this!

Crunching the Numbers on the Chelyabinsk Meteorite

(Credit: Calgary Times)

Let me say this up front: I do not want at all to make light of a tragedy.  Hundreds of people have been injured as a result of this event, and of course my thoughts and prayers are with them.  But at the same time my ASD mind has been busy ever since then running the numbers on this event.

According to Russian authorities, the mass of the object was around 10 tons, and it was moving at roughly 30 kilometers per second at the time of the explosion.  The formula for kinetic energy (energy of movement) is as follows:

KE = .5(m)(v^2)

That is, kinetic energy (in joules) is equal to one half the product of the mass (in kilograms) and the square of the velocity (in meters per second).  Assuming the Russians are using the metric ton, this works out to (.5)(10,000 kg)(30 000 m/s)^2 = 4.5E12 joules, or or 4.5E09 kilojoules (that's 4,500,000,000 kilojoules).

The conversion factor between kilojoules and megatons is 4.18E12, giving us a yield of approximately 1 kiloton.  That's ten times greater than the estimated energy released by the explosions at the World Trade Center during the 9/11 attacks, or one-tenth the strength of the Hiroshima bomb.  It's a good-sized tactical nuke comparable to that used in the AIR-2 Genie air-to-air missile (designed to destroy Soviet bomber formations during the Cold War).

(Above: detonation of a live AIR-2 Genie during the Plumbbob John nuclear test, July 19, 1957.  This took place at around 15,000 feet--approximately half the altitude of the Chelyabinsk meteorite. Credit: U.S. Air Force file photo.)

A one-kiloton explosion has a zone of total destruction about .15 kilometers in radius.  At the .5 kilometer radius most standard housing is destroyed, although reinforced concrete structures will remain.

Now, to put that into a perspective involving human beings: I tried to get the population density of Chelyabinsk online but wasn't able to find it, so I'll use that of a city of similar size in the United States: San Diego, California (4000 people/square kilometer; if anything the population density in Chelyabinsk is likely higher given that Russian cities are much more centralized than American cities, but we can take this number and run with it).  The explosion as it occurred if it had occurred at ground level would have resulted in at minimum 3,100 deaths and injuries.  More depending upon the circumstances of impact: residential area versus industrial area; speed and competency of emergency response; secondary damage from fire, release of industrial toxins, etc.  Given that Chelyabinsk was once a center of Russian weapons-grade plutonium production and is regarded as one of the most polluted cities on Earth as a result, this could have been very, very bad.

Look at the formula above.  Mass is important, but velocity is even more important because you use the square of the velocity.  A little faster and not only would the meteorite made it all the way to the surface, the energy released would have been a lot greater.

Now, take that meteorite and drop it on San Diego, right over City Hall.  Here's what you get with a ground burst:

http://meyerweb.com/eric/tools/gmap/hydesim.html?dll=32.71533,-117.15726&yd=1&zm=14&op=156

Pretty much everything between Balboa Park and the Convention Center is trashed.  The Padres aren't going to be playing at PETCO Park anytime soon, as it and the Gaslamp Quarter have been pretty well demolished. You don't get the same level of secondary damage from dispersed industrial pollutants as Chelyabinsk, because San Diego's heavy industries aren't located in the city core, but you do lose a lot of infrastructure you'd need to respond to the disaster: police and fire department assets, several hospitals, disruption of communications, etc.  Likely in either Chelyabinsk or San Diego you'd be looking at tens of thousands of deaths, to be realistic.  And then there's the economic damage: billions of dollars just to repair and rebuild, with a longer-term impact due to the loss of infrastructure and vital industries.

Again, this is the same object that exploded at roughly 10,000 meters above Chelyabinsk (about the altitude of a commercial airliner).  An object that could actually break through the pressure front of the air in front of it and reach the ground would be a lot more energetic and do that much more damage.
Still don't think we need a space program?  Our only hope of preventing a huge tragedy is to get out there, find out what these things are really made of before they impact, and learn how to stop them.

Chelyabinsk is a wake-up call, or it should be.  Thank God it wasn't any worse.

(Credit: IBI Times. I don't know this man's name or I'd include it too. All things considered, he got off lucky!)

The St. Valentine's Day Massacre: Some Notes For My Single Friends

I'll admit it.  I was very bitter about being single.  For years I wanted to hold my own Valentine's Day party. It would be in a garage and everyone would have to come in 1920's costumes. ;-)

A lot of it stems from being in an environment where nearly all of the people I associated with were paired up, and I could never quite get someone to commit to being my girlfriend (or, if I did, it was because she wanted something of me).  I've been on the receiving end of the 'just friends' speech more times than I care to count!  There were a couple of exceptions, whom I'm still in touch with today even though we've both moved on to other partners.  But by and large, I was single much more often than I was with someone, and my coupled friends were not at all afraid to rub that in my face.  I'm not sure what hurt more: the people who joked with me about not being able to get any, or the supposed 'good Christian couples' in my life who claimed that my singleness was a gift from God while at the same time telling me it was a sign of spiritual immaturity (let the cognitive dissonance begin!  George Orwell invented the term doublethink exactly for this sort of situation!)

All that aside, I will share briefly the story of one relationship I had from late 1996 to Valentine's Day 1998--a day I call the St. Valentine's Day Massacre.  You'll see why in a little bit.  The individual in question shall only be referred to by her initials, R.C., to protect the guilty.

We were a perfect couple despite her being six years older than me: we had almost all of the same interests, attended the same church, and actually worked in the same building (I was still with FDA back then; she was a secretary at an architectural firm).  We hit it off immediately.  By Christmas of that year--at her insistence; I wanted to wait--we were engaged. I hit it off very well with her eight-year-old daughter and I regret to this day any hurt I may have caused that little girl (now a grown woman).

There were problems, I'll admit it: I was not the most mature individual in the world, and I had some issues I was struggling with at the time (not the least of which was medication I had been prescribed which was entirely inappropriate for what I was dealing with--not that anyone knew that back then).  She however was less than truthful with me: she really was looking for a meal ticket, and I wasn't providing it to her satisfaction.  

Flash forward to Valentine's Day 1998.  We went to see Titanic.  That was the end of things.  She decided she wanted someone more like free-wheeling, devil-may-care Jack than established society gentleman (and overall enormous prick) Carl.  At the same time, however, she had the gall to say the following: "There is a lifestyle to which I would like to become accustomed, and I am raising my daughter to have the same expectations.  If you cannot provide that, it's time for me to move on."  Again, doublethink.

A week later the relationship was very, very painfully over.  This was at the same time that Celine Dion's Titanic Love Theme was in heavy rotation on the radio, so every time I turned on the radio I got reminded of it.

If that weren't bad enough, R.C. had the unmitigated gall to call me every year at work on Valentine's Day to brag about how great her life was going and how she made the right decision.  This happened three years in a row.

On the third anniversary of our breakup, I finally worked up the courage to let her have it.  But I did so in a nice way: I told her how great my life was going, that I had moved on to someone else (which I had by that point, even if the relationship had only just started), and that I was on an upward track (which I was--later that year I would be promoted to investigator, something I had been working toward for a long time).  

She got very quiet, then the truth came out: she admitted the breakup was entirely her fault, and told me her father was critically ill (he had Parkinson's disease even when we were together--a pity, since I genuinely liked that guy) and her daughter was failing English, and could I by chance offer her some tutoring?  At the time I was moonlighting as a high school and college tutor--ironically, I got that job because of an introduction R.C. had made for me!  I said, "I'm afraid you probably couldn't afford me," and at that point the call terminated.  And it's a good thing I did, because another friend of mine, a nice little old Jewish lady named Frieda whom I'd met online after breaking up with R.C., said that she would personally fly out to California and kick my ass if I even considered that proposal for one moment!

So I dished out my own St. Valentine's Day Massacre on February 14, 2001.  Payback is a bitch when you pay back the bitch!

Two years and a week later, I would meet a wonderful lady named Sandy whom I had the honor of marrying the following year.  We've had our difficulties, but in the decade since we have made each other stronger in every way as we've faced every conceivable challenge a couple could face.

The moral of this sordid tale, for my single friends, is that sometimes you're better off alone.  Don't settle for less than what you're truly worth.  And sometimes you need to be alone for awhile to figure out what you are truly worth.  Your value is not dictated by who you are or are not partnered with.  Your value is dictated by your values, your achievements, and your motivation in life.

That said, I never ever want to forget my single friends on this day.  I love every single one of you and I'm not afraid to admit it.  So go to bed tonight knowing that someone cares, someone remembers, and someone wants the very best for you.

As for you, R.C.: I've forgiven you.  I can't hate, because that would imply that I care.  I do hope that you've gotten everything you deserve, however, and that's all I can say about that.

Happy Valentine's Day everyone!  I'm thinking I need to give the MST3K treatment to Titanic again soon. ;-)

Week 5 Results, and The Bucket List

Last week's number: 321.6 pounds
This week's number: 317.2 pounds (my lowest weight in five years!)
Week-to-week loss: 4.4 pounds
Net loss: 33.4 pounds

Given the challenges I've had over the past week, I'm very proud of this number.  That said, it could be better!  Now that I've unearthed the treadmill, I intend on using it.  Tomorrow night, it's on!

(Yes, I've said that earlier.  But this time it's a sure thing!)

As I reach the last hole in my belt (going in the right direction!) I'm focusing on goals I have for the future.  Beyond getting a new belt, that is.  Some of these are directly related to my weight loss; others are more personally or professionally oriented.  Without further ado, here goes (at least the G-rated stuff, anyway):

Ongoing:
Make sure that the needs of my family are completely met, regardless of other activities.
Read the following every month:
All required reading for classes
All technical journals for the month
Follow along with my church's Bible reading schedule
At least two novels: one SF or fantasy (currently On Basilisk Station by David Weber) and one literary classic (currently Gravity's Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon)
Two telescope observing sessions each month (weather and other scheduling demands permitting)

Within the next week:
Establish a daily schedule
Complete all outstanding household repairs (including kids' toys)
Finish the garage so I'll have my work/study area ready
Clear my side of the bedroom of everything that should be in my work/study area
Use the treadmill at least 20 minutes per day for 5 days out of 7
Climb the stairs at work 3 times per day

Within the next six months:
A net loss of 60 pounds or greater (62.5 pounds would put me halfway to my goal)
Use the treadmill at least 30 minutes per day, every day that it is available to me
Be able to run at least one mile
Complete the F-106 Delta Dart model I started in 2006
Complete my Puzz3D Millennium Falcon

Within the next year:
Reach my goal weight of 225 pounds (my weight when I graduated college)
Be able to run at least three miles
One hour of exercise (cardio and weight training) at least 5 days/week
Complete all core courses in my Masters program
Get my bike refurbished, and join the church riding club
Complete my Medieval Clock kit

End of 2014:
Finish my Masters program
Publish at least one technical article besides my thesis
Maintain my weight at 225 or lower
Compete in the Spartan Sprint (3 miles, 10 obstacles)
Attend at least one SF/Fantasy convention

Within the next five years:
Maintain my weight at 225 or lower
Work toward completing ASQ Fellow requirements
Compete in remaining Spartan events
Learn to play at least one musical instrument (leaning toward guitar, although I wouldn't mind starting over with the clarinet again)
Enroll in martial arts classes (judo, aikido, or shotokan karate) again
If feasible, begin either my doctorate or a community college teaching certificate

Lifetime:
Retire from government service and become a college professor
Travel to at least one of the following countries: Canada, Japan, UK, Greece, Italy, any Southern Hemisphere country (probably Australia, New Zealand, or South Africa)
Complete the Astronomical League's Southern Hemisphere observing list (either in person or via remote telescope)
Get a work of fiction published

Ambitious?  Yes.  But why not plan big?  I've had enough of lowered expectations, especially from myself!

Week 4 Results: The Long And Winding Road

Last week's number: 324.6 pounds
This week's number: 321.6 pounds
Week-to-week loss: 3.0 poundsNet loss: 29.0 pounds

I didn't lose as much this week as I did last week, but I've been sick and haven't exercised as much as I should have.  On the other hand, I have powered up the treadmill in the garage, so as of tomorrow night it's on!
Now that I'm actually addressing the issue, I've put some thought into just how and why I got this heavy in the first place.  I do have some underlying medical issues (namely, low thyroid) that have exacerbated the problem, but ultimately it has to do with how I respond to stress.  And there has been plenty of stress in my life the past several years!

Job stress is a major issue for me, and for those of you who think a government job is low-stress, try one sometime!  I won't go into exhaustive detail but I will say that the head games, the pointless office politics, and the tension between the amount of work to do and the amount (or lack) of resources to do it with is at least as intense as any private employer.  So yes, there's plenty of job stress to go around.  I've seen it kill people--literally--and I've seen lots of my coworkers develop some pretty bad problems as a result.

Combine that with taking care of a family, which has its own stresses even on the best of days.  And the financial issues of the past few years, as I mentioned in my last post, have created further stress on us.  For most of the past seven years I've been commuting long-range, which has its own stress compounded by a resultant lack of time to do anything productive to relieve stress.

So what did I do?  I've never smoked or used illegal drugs, and for most of my adult life I didn't drink.  I've had two vices--caffeine and food--and of the two food provides a considerable emotional boost.  No better stress reliever than tearing into a piece of beef jerky, or rending the meat from a chicken bone with my teeth...it releases something primal that can't otherwise be released without committing a major felony.

But this issue didn't start seven years ago, or even ten.  It's been with me a long time.  Being single was a huge stressor for me, particularly when all of my friends partnered up and left me in the cold.  Trying to make ends meet with a job that didn't quite pay all the bills didn't help.  And when you're low on money, you buy the cheap food, which is usually the worst food you can eat.  But that's what I had.

So I ate.  And I ate.  And I ate.  And in the meantime I watched my body deteriorate.

But no more!

One of the big challenges I have with this diet is how I will manage my eating--and my life--afterward.  Now that I have the time and the resources, there is no excuse not to exercise.  This in itself will be a great stress reliever and will help me extend the gains (losses?) I've made.  And I need to change my relationship with food entirely.  It is an addiction just as surely as tobacco or alcohol can be an addiction.  I love food, and taken in moderation that's not a bad thing.  After all, food is necessary for survival!  

The kind of food, and the quantity, I need to reconsider drastically.  I can no longer afford psychologically the all-you-can-eat buffet, or the extra value size anything.  I need to learn how to enjoy smaller portion sizes, and to balance my food intake appropriately.  The classes I go to Tuesday nights will teach me some of this, and intellectually I already knew a lot of it.  The key is to transfer it from head knowledge to working knowledge.  And, as with many things, that is a huge challenge for me.  It will mean transforming my life at a fundamental level and perhaps sacrificing some things I've developed an unhealthy emotional attachment to.

In the end, however, the alternative is a coffin.  And I have too much on my bucket list to wrap this up early!