A Story for the faint of heart on getting stronger and better
The following piece is from the Stories for Self-Improvement series that I’m working on, where I develop short stories to inspire you to self-improve.
Have you ever seen a star fall? From a rock stuck in space to a celebrity that can’t take the pressure anymore — the higher it goes, the harder the fall becomes, but what determines the height of it all? Can a star really “fall” when it’s floating in space? What highs do celebrity need to reach before their fall is justified? And what is falling exactly? For the star, is it exploding as it reaches the end of its lifespan or committing suicide for the celebrity? If you ask yourself what’s the commonality between both, you’d land on the concept of perception. Perception is the root of it all and changing your perception will free you to create your reality, to release you from the burdens of the world. Why follow rules laid out by other people when you can set your own rules to live by?
When I was growing up, I struggled a lot with my weight. It started with relatives pulling on my fluffy little cheeks when I was young, to my friends picking on me in middle school. In hindsight, I wasn’t really fat at the time. I was only 10 pounds overweight — it would only take me a month of exercise and healthy eating to be “normal” at normal weight. But this is not how I saw it at the time, I felt fat, like really fat. How could I not? Every topic of conversation centered around weight, from my friends, family and even media and entertainment I consumed daily. When I laughed at Chunk being fat and silly in my favorite movie “The Goonies”, I was laughing at myself — those were really tears of a clown. It became this heavy burden on my back when it wasn’t that big of a deal. I perceived it as a major problem and my immature pubescent self drowned in my sorrow. I lacked self-discipline to change and focused all my attention into things that distracted me from the truth, food and video-games became my best friends and my emotional eating journey began.
As a teenager, I became aware of the road I was traveling on. The scenery had changed, I was traveling on a lonely desert road 40 pounds overweight — this all happened within a flash before my eyes. My new self awareness only led me down one logical path to cope, blaming my parents. My understanding was that if I grew up with healthy eating habits, I wouldn’t be in the place I am today — while it made sense, it still wasn’t the solution. What would blaming them do but part our relationship further and cause them unforeseen pain? I’ll be honest, it felt good to share my pain with them, a bond built on pain. Even as an angst teenager, luckily I never double downed on this false way of thinking. I was still a good kid and my parents genuinely loved me, which helped me take a step into the right direction and develop a solid studying habit.
I struggled a lot in my twenties, the elephant in the room was much stronger than me and won all our battles — my weight was always a factor in everything I did, it was part of my decision making process. The constant rejections, panic attacks, and insults started to give me anxiety and flatten my confidence— which in turn made me feel more isolated and alone. I kept thinking about my personality when I was younger, I was so vibrant and full of life. A skinny little troublemaker with the biggest smile on earth — extremely social and never without friends. I kept thinking to myself, “Was that really me?”, I felt like such an introvert now. I had a hard time making friends and building strong relationships, they always turned out to be fake and it broke my fragile heart. But this was the spark, the one I always needed. I knew the real me was in there somewhere and I desperately needed to find him.
I did it slowly, orchestrating my next step a day in advance. I made it into a game and I decided not to cry anymore — it was not changing anything. Nobody cared, I had to change everything myself — for myself. I needed to be selfish for once. It started with observing other social people, getting tips on being able to talk freely and without being too much in my head. Yes, it was embarrassing and yes, it hurt my pride — but I put all of that aside, was there really anyone making a tally of my wins and losses besides me? I got more involved in company events, in non-mandatory meetings, drinks with co-workers, every single thing. This became a snowball effect and it turned into waking up every day and telling me I loved me. I liked myself and wanted to see me improve. If you can’t love yourself, who else will? I worked on changing the perception of who I was and who I wanted to be and it was the hardest thing I ever did.
You can always choose to cry. I did, for a long time. Did it change anything? No. Taking accountability for my actions and being loving to myself freed my soul, you can do it too. So does a star really fall? It depends, I prefer to think it changes shape and continues to live with us — as something entirely new.
