Hey everyone,

In the second part of this series, I want to tell you about how life kicked me in the nuts -- while I was down -- and still lost the weight in spite of growing hardship.

To recap, I was obese from childhood, teased for my size, and underwent my first fat loss diet at age 10-11.

Going through these things impacts a child differently.

What many people who don't suffer from food addiction or obesity understand are the social and self-image consequences of obesity.

Despite "healthy at any size", "fat acceptance", "fat liberation" and all of the synonymous movements -- which frankly only exist to prolong the agony of obesity -- even the most well-meaning person will view an obese person negatively by default.

There are several negative connotations associated with obesity.

And obesity is a form of social self-hobbling.

The cool kids aren't going to take you under their wing, the pretty girls don't want to talk to you, and this will have a knock-on effect to your self-confidence, social skills, and status.

For years I struggled to develop a healthy "relationship" with food.

Instead of a source of nourishment, it was comfort -- nourishment was a bonus.

I "didn't like" many "healthy" foods.

Eating clean felt like a chore.

Whereas fast food or pigging out was real eating.

Anyway, I partied heavily throughout my late teens and early twenties.

I lost much of the weight -- but not quite all of it.

Let's just say it wasn't through diet and exercise, but other crutches.

After I started to emerge from my self-destructive party phase, get my nutrition on track, and secured a 9-5, my beloved father was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer when I was going on 21.

The news made me spiral back into my old partying habits.

Then I got made redundant.

But my diet did get cleaner.

And I was hitting the gym pretty hard during the week.

Nevertheless, I was partying HARD 3-4 nights per week.

As my dad was receiving treatment, my adored Labrador died suddenly after a short illness at the age of 6.

This singular event was a hammer blow.

My dad was very close to being in remission, but suffered a nasty injury which required him to miss a few sessions.

His cancer came back.

More aggressive than before.

He lost his battle a year later.

I am an only child to older parents, so I felt like I had no one to turn to.

Before he died, I had started dating someone for all the wrong reasons.

I felt like I had found some emotional comfort. (Guys do it too and it was wrong of me)

The emotional comfort allowed for my guard to slip.

And I started piling the pounds back on.

In 3 years, I had gained back around 70 pounds.

Then my relationship fell through as I was unhappy with where I was living and the direction of my life at the time, and I decided to leave the place I was living in for greener pastures.

In my final six months before moving away, I estimate to have gained another 50 or so pounds.

So around 120lb for those keeping score.

I would have 10,000 calorie-a-night binges on pizza, cheesy garlic bread, Babybels, Magnum Ice creams, rum, beer, tequila, Jäger -- whatever I could get my hands on.

I would have near-constant indigestion.

It was a cycle of neverending discomfort due to my dependance on comfort.

After reaching my nadir I slowly started to lose the weight, with various ebbs and flows.

But I had shifted around 50lb from my peak and kept most of it off for a few years, although I still had another 80lb to go -- to be where I wanted to be.

Then I met a wonderful woman and we had decided to get married.

As we were preparing for the wedding, my mother began experiencing lower limb paralysis.

She was slowly beginning to lose motor function in her legs.

Within 9 months, she was completely paralyzed from the waist down.

Doctors in 3 countries misdiagnosed her.

For 4 months, I was her full-time carer while studying a Master's degree, working full-time and planning my wedding.

These were the toughest days of my life.

Many nights I thought I was going to die. I suffered from palpitations, arrhythmia, high blood pressure; my stress was through the roof and I would get around 3-4 hours sleep per night if I was lucky.

She was eventually greenlit for a spinal fusion surgery as the specialist believed she was suffering from stenosis (a spinal issue).

The day before my wedding, my mother was hospitalized with acute pneumonia after suffering a suspected heart attack while in recovery.

She was placed in a coma.

The wedding had to take place anyway due to my wife's family members visiting from abroad and our lack of funds at the time to reschedule.

We rushed to her side as soon as we could.

Later she was diagnosed with ALS or Lou Gehrig's disease.

She passed away 4 months later, 3 days after all international travel was banned due to the pandemic.

She died alone.

I couldn't be by her side for her final days.

I couldn't give her a funeral.

Then, six weeks later, life decided to kick me in the nuts again.

While I was down.

AGAIN.

There's no easy way to put this without sounding insensitive, but I will continue this email series tomorrow.

It is a long story and I've taken enough of your time already.

If you'd like to read on, part 3 will be sent out to your inbox tomorrow.

Stay Strong,

Herculean Strength

1 comment

How to keep Your Testosterone UP!

NO BS Fitness myth buster

How to rip through your plateaus and get gains

Next-Level Strength: 10 Advanced Techniques for Serious Gains

Diet Hacks you wouldn’t have heard of

See all posts from Herculean Strength