An Alternative to Regret?

All too often I find myself in positions where, in that moment, I’m fully aware I’m going to regret it the next morning. Working from home, I don’t get a ton of social interaction. So by the time my day is done I’m overcome with the urge to go out and mingle. Living in the city, going out to mingle is pretty damn easy… but there’s always alcohol involved.

Because I want to have human contact, and because I don’t have friends that live nearby, I ultimately end up at a bar. I go for a “beer or two” or to “go watch the game” and, of course, to chat with “friends”. Three o’clock in the morning later I find that I’m about $80.00 shy in my account, several brain cells in the negative, an expanding gut, and a worried girlfriend.

Now I have work in about 5 hours. Fuck.

As my day proceeds and memories from the evening before flash back. I find that I’m mad about spending so much money. I’m frustrated because the “friends” I was with don’t care about me until it’s time to go drinking again. I feel like I’ve lowered my standards as a human being, and I spend the rest of the day kicking myself for it. Well, until I go meet my friends for a beer or two.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

So it occurs to me that regretting what I did the night before obviously doesn’t keep me from doing it again. Am I moron? Do I lack the capability to learn from my mistakes? In my opinion, yes and no respectively. They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over again while expecting different results. So if I’m not a moron, I’m certainly caught in a crazy loop. And somehow it seems the regret is fueling this cycle in stead of sticking me with the notion that I should fucking stop.

In thinking about this, I’m forming the opinion that my need to interact socially outweighs the regret I feel from being a drunk ass. Given that we’re social creatures, trying to stamp out that desire is likely to be as successful as mating with a populated bee hive. So what about going to do something that doesn’t involve drinking? Well that’s likely just as expensive, less prevalent, and it’s apparently not what adults do. Which sucks.

So instead of regretting my actions, or trying to find alternatives, I’m looking at attempting to deal with the core issues: a) I want social interaction, and b) I’m apparently not ok with being alone. Maybe they’re actually the same problem and I’m just trying to make it out to be more than what it is. The brain is good at reasoning away from real problems. Between the 2 “options”, my gut is leaning towards option B.

On the nights I’m alone I tend to grab some beer from the corner store, when I could be doing something constructive like sleeping. My drive to be creative is greatly diminished in lieu of financial and personal stress… On the other hand, if I have an addictive personality, maybe I should buy a game console. I don’t play video games because I’m worried I’ll get nothing else done… because, you know, I’m getting so much more accomplished by going to the bar and draining my already abysmal bank account.

Breaking Up is Hard to Do… Alot

So I’m beginning to see relationships much like a chess[1] match. You have your opening strategy (Got that on lock), your middle strategy (Meh), and your endgame (Def lots of experience there!). I’ve become a master making out and breaking up, but I’ll be dammed if I can figure out how to conduct myself in a relationship. Actually… I think all but the opening strategy needs plenty of work. I know I’m preaching to the choir – Can I get an “Amen”!?

Lets start with I have some issues with self-care:
I don’t like to let go of my past often. Worse yet I tend to let it dictate my present actions. I’ll see an opportunity for a new method, but instead choose to go on autopilot – which, of course, it then bubbles to the top after a few too many suds. It makes me a real pain in the ass to deal with.

I have trust and abandonment issues:
I will ask who you are texting. I will get quite insecure if it’s your ex-partner. And rather than risk looking like a bitch, I’ll get drunk… then angry… then I’ll look through your shit. I’ll be looking for signs that are already staring me in the face, but I’ll be too ignorant to see it. At the very least, I’ll be in outright denial. Which makes me a real pain in the ass to deal with.

I have fruition issues:
In short time I’ll sow enough doubt and anxiety that eventually you’ll look for a way out. Then I’ll have the audacity to shift at break-neck speeds from hot to cold; blaming you for crapping all over my emotions; making sure every ounce of your stuff is waiting for you; taking pot-shots at you and your life – and not skipping even one opportunity to give you grief about something. Then when all is truly lost, and I’ve made damn sure I’ve driven you away – I’ll begin the self-loathing bit. Which makes me a real pain in the ass to deal with… but by now I’m no longer your problem.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

But what happens when you finally figure out the old ways of conducting yourself don’t work anymore?

Well, first off you figure it out a little too late. The first hurtle is sticking to your guns regardless. Everything about you will be screaming to go back on autopilot! But you don’t let it happen. Instead you go clean your bathroom which you’ve just now noticed is fucking atrocious and is likely an apt metaphor for the entirety of your recently deceased relationship. You choke, gag, cough and cry a bit… but you blame it all on the bathroom cleaner. Then you feel a little better; a little more in control.

Then you’ll want to reach out to your freshly ex’d partner. What. The. ACTUAL. Fuck??? That’s what you’ll tell yourself initially. Then you’ll reason with yourself about how you need to get this off your chest and she really, really does want to hear you insult her life choices and belittle her. That’ll totally win her back!!!
Right – So what you actually do is delete all conversations in text and email and whatnot. Then you sit down and write that email! And then another one! And another one!! You keep going till you’ve become bored coming up with (really less-than-) creative ways of playing on the themes of , “I was right all along” and “Gold-digging whore slut prissy little demon asshole who eats your heart and pisses your atrial blood” – all the while sending to the DRAFT folder. Eventually you come to realize that she an human somewhere under all that, and likely more human(e) than you at this current juncture. You’ll remember that you do love her. You’ll decide that, whether too late or not, it’s still worth respecting that love. You give her the privacy you previously denied her. Then you feel a little bit better; yet more in control.

Finally, that (insert method by which to cope/escape/self-destruct here) is looking mighty tempting. Don’t walk, RUN! Seriously… go for a run. A run like you’re being hunted by a Gold-digging whore slut prissy little demon asshole who eats your heart and pisses your atrial blood!!! Then run moar! Then go to the gym. Pump iron till you collapse (but in a safe manner… You’re still trying to avoid self-destruction). You’ll be too tired to abuse or hide. You simply won’t have the strength. You’ll see that shit happens… to everyone; that you, indeed, are not the center of the universe, and that you’re not the only one prone to horrible, fear-driven, just plain bad decisions. Then you feel better still; Really actually totally absolutely indubitably in control!

Now… what to do with the next 23 hours and 45 minutes of your day?

Wash. Rinse. Repeat. You’ll be alright.

_{[1] I lost the chess metaphor pretty early on. Sorry about that. Seemed like a good idea at the time.}

Since I’ve Been Back to the Gym

At 40 years old, there’s never been a point in my life where I would say I was a “gym rat” per se. But I have gone to the gym on and off over the years. I played various sports as a kid. And even went hard core once just to prove to myself that I could get below 10% body fat… Just so you know, if your body isn’t built for that kind of skinny, IT SUUUUUUCKS trying to get and stay there.

But all of that was a long time ago.

In any case, with increased age, weight and other health issues beginning to take their toll, I decided that I was going to go back to the gym, and for good this time. At over 200lbs and not being able to lose it due to poor diet, drinking, smoking, barely doing anything remotely active, and a work-from-home job (not to mention dropping lbs when you’re older is less-than-easy) – I decided if I’m going to be this big, I may as well try to be a beefcake. Along with it, I figured I’d put my two cents in on my real-world results; mainly because I couldn’t get a straight answer to anything I wanted to know. So here goes.

---

DISCLAIMER:
By no means do I suggest, recommend, or even endorse, any of the following. This is just me sharing where I’m at and what I’m doing in regards to diet, lifestyle and exercise. I am not a nutritionist, doctor, exercise or health professional in any regard. I’m a healthy person only in the context that I am ambulatory and not yet deceased. DO NOT use this as a reference for planning your own lifestyle.

---

Vitals:
I’m closing in on week 4 of what I intend to make a permeant part of my life. I’m a white male, 40, 206lbs, 5’10” (if I don’t slouch), 38″ waste (mostly spare tire) and a mesomorph body type. I can lift more than 50lbs from the floor to my chest and I can run if I’m being chased by rabid wildlife.

Diet:
My diet consists of mostly chicken and red meat in various forms; cold cuts; cheese; some veggies; water from sources like beer, liquor, diet soda and coffee; and dining out twice a week with no fucks given. I don’t keep to a food regimen, rather I just eat whenever. And I’d wager most of my calories and almost all my carbs come from beer… I love beer… crazy craft beer… lots of it. I probably drink somewhere in the neighborhood of 3-5 beers a night about 3 or 4 nights a week. I drink water when it’s there or I’m hungover. I make use of energy drinks opportunistically.

Fat and Habits:
My fat distribution is all gut and obliques, down into upper thighs and caboose. Thin/common layers of fat everywhere else. I don’t really collect fat in my arms, chest, lower legs or under my chin.  I smoke about a pack of Kyte Tobacco with filtered tubes every day and a half to two days. I don’t use drugs (which includes pot).

Workout:
I’ve been going to the gym about 4 days a week.
Monday is chest and triceps; Tuesday is back and biceps; Wednesday shoulders and light core; Thursday off; Friday legs; Saturday and Sunday off.
I begin every workout with roughly 15 minutes on a level treadmill – Walk 4.0/mph; Run 6.0/mph; Walk 4.0/mph – 5 minutes respectively.
Weight training consists of standard workouts (the classic ones you can find all over the internet – Bench press, curls, leg press, etc); weights heavy enough to support 3 sets of 5 reps. I try to do at least 3 workouts for most body parts. e.g. For chest I do Inclined press, Inclined flys and Classic press.
Each week I’ve tried to up my weight by 5lbs or more.

Results:
So here’s what’s been happening over all. The first week, EVERYTHING HURT EVERY DAY. I was aching and crying for my Mama. I stretched and forced my arms above my head in order to wash my hair. By the end of the week I gained 2 lbs.

Week two was much easier pain wise, although new exercises resulted in new aches. All the parts not covered in considerable fat began to present themselves more. They weren’t defined, but I now had pecs beneath my budding man-boobs. I was noticing that I was emotionally more level. Big issues didn’t seems as big and waking up in the morning didn’t suck as much… same for going to sleep. I dropped my coffee intake by 2 cups (bringing it down to 6 cups a day). By the end of week two, I gained yet another 2 lbs.

Week three I fell into a groove. I was hitting the weights like a beast and was less afraid to challenge myself to failure. Though I still asked for help if I was on free weights. My debit card number got jacked, my account got drained, and I went to the bank broke with a fucking smile on my face. I noticed problems weren’t problems at all. Whatever it was, it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. I wasn’t depressed, though I still had negative thoughts popping up. I went out the other night and felt completely satiated after two beers. Then (unheard of) I turned down free shots. All of the above just “happened” without conscious intention.

Looking in the mirror made me smile. I still had the spare tire, but my stomach didn’t have that pregnant appearance. My budding man-breasts stopped budding. And what’s this? I have guns???
By the end of the week I had gained still another 2 lbs.

I’m now 6 lbs. heavier than when I began, and I don’t even care. I look far better than I did almost a month ago. I won’t say that I feel amazing, but I don’t feel like shit. The best word for my emotional state is “level”. I walk more slowly, with determination. I look strangers in the eye and smile… and they smile back. My voice has dropped half an octave. More than the walking, everything I do feels deliberate now. My brain feels clear. I’m curious to see what the next few weeks hold for me. I know I’ve made a lot of gains due to the fact that I haven’t worked out in a long time. I’m not deluding myself of that. But I’m confident that when I plateau, I’m going to be plenty satisfied with myself and my appearance. Oh – an interesting side effect – I look at any surface that offers a decent reflection. Maybe I’m becoming less depressed at the cost of becoming more narcissistic, but it’s a fair trade in my opinion.

The Nature of ‘Should’

I’m beginning to see that when the word should enters my mind, I actually have the power to do that thing. For instance, if I say to myself, “I should go to bed at a decent hour.” all I have to do is actually go to bed at what is a decent hour for me. I tried this the other day and found that despite my tendency towards racing thoughts, I was fast asleep shortly after I went to bed.

Furthermore I’ve noticed that should rarely pops up in an unrealistic context. “I should be a fighter pilot. I should be able to compute quantum physics.” Indeed I could do those things. Or maybe could have. But it’s not often that should plays into it.

So what about larger issues? “I should be in a better place in life by now.” Well… maybe I should. So if that sentence lines up with what I believe the average is, then there’s really nothing stopping me. If the average includes me, then I’m endowed with all the tools and gifts necessary to get there. Otherwise I’m above or below average; In which case the average does not apply to me, and I therefore should not belong.

Now we have to remove the ultimate tool in the procrastinators kit.. I will.

When was the last time you read out a plan to yourself and said, “I will do A. Then after that I will do B.” I’ve never done that. I don’t know anyone who has. Instruction manuals don’t instruct that you will do something. Simply “Do A. Good… Now do B.” There’s a sense (if not an outright implication) of getting it the fuck done already. “DO A…. Is A done yet? No? DO A until it’s done. A is done? Good! Now DO B.” And so on until what you should is what you are.

“I should do the dishes.” How about I get off my caboose and spend the time actually doing the dishes in stead of using that time to tell myself I should.

“I should do the dishes… meh, I will do them tomorrow.” No I fucking won’t. Something else will come up and I’ll say, “I should have done the dishes yesterday.”

How about, “I plan to do the dishes tomorrow.”? Did I? Did I actually carve out a plan to do my dishes tomorrow? I’ll bet if I did, step one was, “Get up and go do the dishes.”

OK — What about should not? Well if I believe I should not be doing something. STOP! Do something that maybe I should be doing! And there’s a slight semantic situation there; If I should not be doing something, it’s all too likely that I BETTER NOT be doing it.

So I keep going back to the idea that the nature of should is my brains way of telling me that I currently have the time to act. It suggests there’s a tradeoff at hand. Do something about the should that’s crossing my mind, or do nothing and ponder it to death. But it’s not really to death, is it? Should keeps it alive in my mind as a reminder of yet one more thing I didn’t do. And to be sure, acting alone may not be the solution altogether… but it’s a damn fine start.