Day one. I’m not sure what to call it? Today is the first day of the rest of my life? Ehh. That’s sounds boring and cliché. Today I give a shit; maybe that’s what’s different. I’ve been a little pissed off lately and maybe that’s how I needed to get at myself. Mad. You see I haven’t given a shit in a long time.

Oh, sure I gave a shit every time I stepped on the scale, and I could see those numbers slowly climb. I cared what the numbers became, I just didn’t give a shit to do something about it.

I cared when everything I owned became too small. I cried myself to sleep many times.

I cared when the doctor told me that that I had a pretty severe thyroid condition and allergies to everything under the sun, but I didn’t give a shit to remove those things from my diet. Seemed pretty damned unfair to me.

I cared about my home and working 13-18 hours a day trying to take care of my businesses, but I didn’t care enough to give myself rest and to take care of myself. What’s going to happen to my businesses if I am dead? I care about that.

I guess the point I am trying to make is I didn’t care about me. I’m not sure where that originated. It wasn’t conscious, but it sure was based on my actions.

I’ve tried a million times since I was kid to get my weight under control. I failed, and you know what? I didn’t give a shit.

So…. today I suppose I give a shit. If I don’t listen to my doctors, I am going to die. I guess that’s the synopsis of day one. I’m not a victim of my life. I got handed some pretty shitty cards…. But God gave me the power to deal with those cards. I’m not a victim; I’m a survivor in every sense of the word.

I need to start acting like one.

Yeah. I’m still standing. I can’t see my feet when I look down, but I know they are down there. Ever Been there? Yeah, I’m there.

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