My health

Grieving can be tough on you. Take it from me. In the last seven months, my health has been shot.

Over the last ten years, my weight has averaged around 195-205. A year before Aimee and I got married, I was in the upper 170's. When Aimee died, I was at about 210.

I weighed about 180 lbs in this picture,
roughly 50 lbs less than I weigh now.

I now weigh 230. And I can't stand the sight of myself in the mirror.

But it's not just the weight. I am normally a VERY healthy person, as in I don't get sick often at all. Maybe 1-2 colds a year, tops. A stomach bug every few years. And to this point, knock on wood, I've never had the flu (or had a flu shot). Of course, until this past March, I'd also never had bronchitis. But that hit me then, and I still today have on again-off again bouts of chest congestion and coughing. I also have had increasing trouble with my digestive system.

The reasons for these troubles are simple and obvious.

• I have been eating like crap, partly due to already poor discipline being nonexistent the last seven months. Partly because Aimee fixed healthy meals and now I get premade stuff that can be thrown into the oven for 45 minutes and put on a plate.
• I drink WAY TOO MUCH Starbucks. A certain amount of coffee is healthy, but drinking sugar-infused lattes pretty much EVERY day can't be good for you.
• And the big one? I have been chronically sleep deprived since Aimee died. The horrendous effects of lack of sleep are well documented, and among them are several reasons why not only does weight stay on, it increases.

In other words, if I'd just get some decent sleep, I'd probably lose at least a few of these pounds

Spraining my right ankle twice in three months didn't help either, and given that part of the foot is still numb and another still feels frequent pain, I'm a bit afraid there may be nerve and ligament damage from the second incident. That makes it a bit tough to go to the gym and burn some calories on a treadmill or bike. And I can't swim to save my life. Um, actually, that may be a terrible cliche to use right now. Anyway, I have little to no time to exercise.

But this is going to change.

Long story short, I used the occasion of my birthday this past weekend to put my foot down (the left one). While I understand that reversing this will take some time and patience, I simply can not afford and will not allow my health to continue to deteriorate further. I've let the effects of grief do a lot of damage to my body. It's time I do the hard work to put myself back together again physically. Because gaining weight and being sick is not going to help me heal emotionally either, and not getting enough sleep is especially going to wreak havoc on my emotional well-being.

It's time to start kicking grief's ass.