It's Time to Reboot

I woke up this morning.

I opened my eyes, took a deep breath, and felt for my pulse just to confirm it to myself.

Yep. I’m up. I made it through another night.

I groaned as I pushed myself upright and sat for a moment at the side of my bed with my head in my hands.

Last night’s panic attack had left me shaken. Sleep came reluctantly, though I'm grateful it came it all. I laid there in the dark, focusing all of my energy on trying to keep my breaths deep and even, fighting back the thoughts that I knew would accelerate my meditative breathing to all out hyperventilation.

What if you don’t wake up tomorrow? 

Who will look after your wife and son?

How much will they resent you for not taking better care of yourself?

Why are you wasting your life?

Fast forward back to this morning. After forcing myself out of bed, I headed to the bathroom and stepped on the scale.

384.4 pounds.

I stared at the number and felt an odd mixture of relief, despair, and hope.

Relief because I knew that this morning would be the last time that I would ever see a number that high on a scale again.

Despair because I realized the journey in front of me would be long and hard. That something fundamental would have to change if I was ever going to be able to break free of the stronghold that had kept me trapped within my own body for over a decade.

Hope because I knew that for the first time ever, I was willing to do what was necessary to change the course of my life forever.

It’s time to reboot.