Hello all, I am sorry for this very long post. It's funny that I just know it's going to be long.
The year is 2009
10 years ago, I was 20. I was 212lbs. Fresh out of my local community college, I was going into a 4-year school to get the last two years of my degree.
As it turned out, my new school only accepted 21 of my 68 credits. So, instead of going in as a Junior, I went in as a freshman. Sucks, but oh well. I wanted to be here.
Weighing in at 212, I had recently lost a lot of weight (up to around 240) and just shed the weight off by not eating flour and running 3-5 miles a day. I felt great. I could see MOST of my six-pack. I wasn't large in terms of muscle mass, I was still rather slender/undefined.
I met my girlfriend (at the time), life was good, school was good. They had a gym.
I started working out, I started adding bulk and trying to add muscle mass. I followed a fairly strict regiment of which body parts each day. Little by little, I started adding muscle mass and not gaining too much body fat.
Cut to a couple years later
The on-campus dining hall has ruined me. I still did no flour, but when I justify that triple baked mashed potatoes with cheese and bacon don't have flour… well… ya know.
I steadily put on weight. I stopped working out. I was sitting and watching Netflix. I got engaged to my girlfriend. The engagement party photos really show how much weight I was putting on.
Another couple years later
My wife and I had been trying to get pregnant for years. We were unable. We were both fertile, but as you know the larger you are (as a male), the harder it is. But, we finally did it. We managed to get pregnant, and while we were happy, I was miserable with my body weight.
One year later
The little one is born and super healthy. We're happy. Ultimately, we want a total of two kids, but being able to have our perfect little baby, made life good. My body was steadily getting worse.
By this point, I was in pretty heavy denial about my body. But, life was good.
Fast forward to my oldest son's 2nd birthday April 21st of 2019
We had another baby, born April 1st! Sadly, this portion of the story doesn't have a good ending. After what seemed like no time at all, we got pregnant again. I swear, it was like…. one, non-sleeved bang, and she was pregnant. We were ecstatic. Pregnancy was good, I put on more weight. Baby was born.
3 weeks later, it's Saturday night, the night before my oldest son's birthday. Little Weylin isn't acting right. He's lethargic, won't eat a lot. We do everything we can think of. We put Weylin down for night time to sleep. In the morning, he's worse. Not latching, not keeping his head up.
We run to the ER. His BP and temp are way low. I will spare you the details, because honestly, I'm having a really hard time writing it.
We get the results a couple days later, he has a brain infection from Meningitis. Several strokes and seizures later, all but his brain stem are destroyed. Then, overnight, a final stroke all but destroyed that too. After a really hard day of watching and talking, we call in the family to say goodbye. Tears are had, memories are made, and Little Weylin's breathing tube and BP medication are removed. He passes within minutes.
A couple months later
I can't breath. I can't sleep. And for the first time in my life (probably through narcissism) I'm feeling like I have PTSD and actual depression. I've never been a sad person, I've always been optimistic. Weylin passing has broken me and legitimately destroyed my confidence. I have no trust in myself, no willpower, and I've given up on being happy with myself.
I finally break down and tell me wife. She had been worried about me leading up to now. My snoring had gotten worse, my chest hurt, I couldn't breathe right, walking left me winded, I'm DEFINITELY low testosterone, and I have zero sex drive, etc etc… I tell her that 10 years have passed and I went from being healthy and happy to being fat and miserable, and Weylin passing broke the straw for me. I decide that I need a change. My life has to change, and I can't stand it anymore. I can't let the last 10 years be my future. My brother in law is already in incredibly bad shape, like looking like he's going to have a heart attack.
I don't want that to be me.
I say fuck it. I'm done. I can't do it anymore. I'm not going to grow up risking my family's future, because I can't stop eating. I'm going to give my son a father to look up. I log back into MFP, I toss my junk food, I start tracking. I know how to lose weight. I did it in the past, I know how the process works, etc etc.
I weigh myself. 340lbs. Almost 130lbs more than I was 10 years ago when I first went to college. Gross.
I'm down to 302.7lb. Almost 40lb down. I can breath again. I don't hurt when I sleep, I don't snore, and my chest doesn't hurt. I'm walking daily at work (though less than I did a week ago), I'm eating 1700 calories a day with a TDEE of close to 2800. I've found foods I love that are low calorie and I know how to keep it going.
I have had a couple days were I eat over, and I will eat slightly less the next day to make up for it. No matter what I'm not going off track, and I refuse to let what happened in the last 10 years define me again. Weylin changed me in so many ways, and for the better. I want to look back a year from now and say that my future is going to be better because of him. In his short 3 weeks on this earth, he changed the lives of so many people, and I'm not going to let that go to waste.
I'm sorry for the long post, but rather than post in a year about how great I did, I wanted to keep record of progress and use this sub as a resource to improve. That way, I can be held accountable and keep you all in the loop on how well I'm doing.
Below is a current picture, in a shirt I haven't been able to wear in 6+ months. Sorry for the red eyes. It was right after writing this.