DEAR DIARY,
Forgive me for my lack of contact, lately. My last entry was just before the holiday season started, as well as a very intense month of transition and change. Definitely a change for the positive from a life/family perspective. But, in regards to my health, I’ve had a serious case of the “Fuckits.”
For the last 40 days and 40 nights, I have basically been binge eating and drinking my way to this moment. (I’m not a religious man, but the irony of that statement is not lost on me.)
Since I started writing to you again, I’ve been struggling with my goddamned thermostat and it’s inability to do it’s job. Believe me, it’s gotten worse, and the last month or so is evidence of that. While I haven’t gone back to doing the hard stuff, I didn’t put too many limits on other things. I’ve definitely had my fill now, and I’m ready to get on with this. I don’t really have a plan of attack at the moment. Just some vague idea of what I think I should do.
I know what you’re thinking, Dear Diary, “What?! Just like that?! You’re just gonna rip the band-aid off, and do a complete 180?! With no preparation or plan?!” “That’s so extreme!” “You’re not gonna ease into it?!” “That’s never worked in the past!” I know. I know. But neither has easing into things.
I know It seems like I’m rushing into all of this, and that I’m just setting myself up for failure. But, I’ve actually been doing the work, to get to this place of readiness, since we last talked. Just, mostly in my head.
In order to understand what I mean, I need to tell you a story about my grandfather (Gramps) and the lesson he taught me about the process of metamorphosis.
When I was a kid, my grandparents lived on (what was basically) a small farm. My grandfather had several different gardens, in various stages of growth, throughout the property. They also had the usual animals like; chickens for eggs, a cow for milk, goats for weed control, horses (because…well…they’re awesome), rabbits, cats, dogs and even a monkey. Yes, you heard that right. My grandparents had a Capuchin, named Charlie. Ok, so that’s not a usual kind of animal to have on a small farm. At the time, it seemed normal to me.
One of my most vivid memories I have of Charlie, were the big green Tomato Hornworms he loved to eat from my grandfather’s garden. The worms were like a plague when it came to Gramps’ tomato plants, but a gourmet snack for Charlie. He couldn’t get enough of them. Fortunately, for that bonkers little primate, my grandfather’s garden was a bountiful source of the plump green treats.
On a daily basis Gramps would inspect the plants for their presence. When he found one, he’d pluck it from its perch, on the bright red produce, and stick it on the shoulder of his gardening jumpsuit. It wasn’t uncommon for him to amass a collection of four or five at a time. After each hunting expedition, he would stand near the monkey’s cage and let that furry little pile of pest control pick them right off his shoulder, one at a time, and devour them.
One day, when I was about nine, I was helping Gramps round up the latest crop of treats (this was like a right of passage for my cousins and I), when I discovered that one of them managed to avoid capture long enough to wrap itself into a cocoon. I asked my grandfather if he wanted me to remove it, and he said “No. It’s not hurting anything, now. As a matter of fact, there’s something amazing going on in there. Let’s watch it and see what happens.” You see, he was also a high school biology teacher. He decided to use this moment to show me how transformation and change, sometimes happens in nature.
We carefully removed the branch that the cocoon dangled precariously from, put it in a jar, and then transported it to his classroom for observation. We placed it among the many other homegrown experiments he had amassed during the the school year. Then we waited.
Over the next couple of weekends he would take me to the school so I could see its progress, and boy was I curious about what was happening inside that ugly little shell. (I had no idea just how intense a process it actually is.)
The part that fascinated me the most was the molting. Of course there is the big finish when the occupant inside molts the Chrysalis away to reveal its true nature. But, during the life span of theses “Charlie Snacks,” there are a couple of stages of molting that happen before the cocoon stage even happens. These are crucial for the larva to get ready for the big show. They are important steps to prepare for the big finish. Without them, there wouldn’t be a transformation.
Now, In my nine year old mind all cocoons produced beautifully colorful butterflies. What finally emerged was not what I expected, at all. While you’d think I would’ve been disappointed by the brown gray moth I had watched transform (for what seemed like and eternity) but, I wasn’t. It was definitely something more. It no longer looked anything like the little green monsters my grandfather and I had hunted together, in the rows of tomatoes, as the sunset. What I saw, was something wholly and forever changed. Something amazing!
When I asked my grandfather how the moth knew what to do, he answered me in a tone that was different than usual. It was quiet and almost reflective. “They know because it’s just a part of who they are. It’s something that’s built inside of them. It’s a part of their nature to evolve and grow. Just like you.” (Wiping my tears)
As I look back on that experience, my young and impressionable mind gained something more emotional from the experiment. Not only did I get a wonderful memory of a man that was (oft times) distant and hard to know, but it taught me to be patient and understand that there is a process to creating permanent change of any kind. Both physically, and emotionally. My head has been like this awesome cocoon of thought and reflection, with this notion of creating a new me, built right inside of it. It’s in our nature as human beings to grow and evolve. It’s what gives us purpose.
I consider what happened over this last month of my life, a part of MY process. I insulated myself with the crutches that propped me up and helped me navigate the stresses of my life, (I think) to better understand why I no longer needed them. I had to come to peace with letting them go.
I wrapped up all of my insecurities and misgivings about going through all of this health stuff (yet again), and took all the excuses for my excesses, and processed them through filters of self-hatred, depression and self-reflection. Then I let its potent mixture of feelings and emotions, swirl around inside my soul. The very act of writing these entries has helped me molt a couple of times (so far), and it’s been really helpful in getting me to the crossroad that I’m currently standing at.
So, you see, Dear Diary, I didn’t come to this place without going through changes already. While it took longer than I wanted, and I’ve incurred several pounds of collateral damage in the process, the end result is all that matters. I’m finally ready to take responsibility for my health.
Today is the start of a brand new year, and a brand new me. That equates to 365 daily opportunities to change my life, and the lives of those around me, for the better.
It’s also the day my thermostat has finally kicked in.
Thanks for the lesson, Gramps.
Until next time,