My descent into the deepest hole I ever dug began in 2016. It’s
unfortunate when you have to climb out of holes you dig for yourself but in the
beginning, you never realize you’re digging. It can take weeks, even months to
realize your hands are dirty. These days my hands are filthy. It was a few
things… an overwhelming sense of doom tied to the 2016 election. It was change.
In the fall of 2016, right before the election I moved from a place I shared
with a roommate for 8 years. I missed having her around. I especially missed
her cats. I lived in a crummy apartment on Hertel Avenue for 5 months that was
riddled with disturbances. People were arrested at least 3 times. It had nothing
to do with me, but it was the next apartment down the hall from me. The
building felt so unsafe and was a massive change from the peace and comfort of
where I lived the past 8 years. It was the realization that my body was slowing
down. Kickball was over. Football was over. I had stopped playing softball,
basketball and whatever else before that. It wasn’t fun to accept I couldn’t just
run outside and play everyday anymore, whenever I wanted. I couldn’t even play
every other day anymore. I spent decades playing and playing. I’d play sports,
go on hikes or just walk around for a few hours.
Now, my body felt this type of fatigue it had never felt. It
wasn’t the kind you felt after a 4-hour hike, or 5 full court games in a row.
It wasn’t the kind you felt after back to back football or kickball league
games. It was the kind of fatigue felt just waking up some days… a lethargy
that would hit me at times. Looking back, I believe this fatigue had a simple
explanation. I was getting older. I wasn’t the 30-year old who would wake up,
shower and head out to run around all day until it got dark. My body was
slowing down and it was hard for me to accept. I was past my prime and all that
running… I was tired. Humans generally don’t like changes happening around them
let alone changes coming from within. I had no choice.
As 2016 began, my sports league days had ended. To make
things worse the 2016 election was ongoing. My candidate was cheated and
defeated. I then had to witness one of the worst people of my lifetime become
president. Going back to 2015, I had an ominous feeling inside, like something scary
was on the horizon, but it was worse than I had imagined. It affected me more
than I knew. In the late Spring of 2017, I lost my job of 13 years. I decided I
would enjoy the summer instead of looking for a new job immediately. This was a
naive mistake. I didn’t realize how much the job market sucked. As 2018 began I
was still looking for a job and felt like the world was on fire. I had begun
digging rapidly.
By March I had sold many of my most valuable possessions to
pay rent and other bills. I was broke. My unemployment had run out a few months
before and that wasn’t much to begin with. I was desperate for a job. I took an
interview with anyone who’d invite me in. This is how I started working at
Spectrum. It was a call center, which to me seemed like a nightmare and once I
got out of 2 months of training and began to actually do the job, it was
confirmed as one. Answering angry people’s questions and taking their venting
and abuse was not the best use of my time but again, I was desperate. I had to
do what I had to do.
It was a brutal job in many ways, but the worst of it was
how the company treated us. We were just meat popsicles to them. They cared far
more about metrics than people. The turnover was high. As I finished 6 months
there and moved into the fall of 2018, I was consistently one of the top
performers and a promotion might have been on the horizon but Spectrum was
hell. Is getting a promotion in hell really a good thing? A get out of hell
free card would be better and one came in November of 2018. The company moved
our entire team from our offices right next to the gorgeous Erie Basin Marina
to the sterile Appletree Mall in Cheektowaga.
It happened quickly. Instead of riding my bike home against the smells of
General Mills and the bustle of downtown at night, I now had to take several
buses and several hours to get to and from. To make matters worse, the company
switched my role from internet and app support to cable support, which was a
big step down. I quit Spectrum a few weeks before Thanksgiving and thanks to
them moving everyone abruptly I was able to get unemployment.
As 2018 was becoming 2019 the nation had become used to the
idea as the devil as president. Waking up in that world everyday would hurt me
in ways I couldn’t always explain. The angrier people got, the more violent,
the more divisive people got. The more people suffered, the more I hurt. This
time, the devil didn’t have a pitchfork. He had a shovel. And he dug this
nation in its own massive hole. Maybe that’s why I didn’t realize I was still
working on mine. And it was getting a lot deeper and more difficult to climb
out of.
Truth be told, I was aware that I wasn’t feeling right.
Since I was jobless I had Medicaid as health insurance. I checked around to see
if I could find a place to go to try therapy. I contacted several that were
close to me. They were either not accepting new patients or they didn’t take
Medicaid. Oh well, I tried. This is the mental health system we have.
A little before Christmas I found out UB was offering free
certificate programs. I could do a full time courseload for one semester, get
certified in medical coding and then perhaps get something close to a real job
in a new career. It almost sounded too good to be true. My unemployment could
be extended while I was taking classes, so the timing was good. I had no
direction and all my job experience the last 15 years was online retail,
working in a record store and call center experience. None of these were things
I wanted to do again.
I began classes that January and for the first 5 months of the
year I was headed in a new, interesting direction. I graduated the program with
honors in June and hit the ground running that summer looking for jobs in
medical coding and/or billing, the 2 things UB trained me for. What I found out
was again how naïve I was. My new certification wasn’t really all that great.
No one was gonna hire me to do any medical coding without a more specialized,
expensive and much harder to obtain coding certification. As far as billing,
any medical practice or facility wanted billers with at least 2 or 3 years
experience. For 2 months all I got were offers to be a basic receptionist at a
doctor’s office. Not even a patient services rep, those people who check you in
at a doctor’s office, but just someone who answered phones and did menial
tasks. I found it insulting that a job like that was all that was being offered
to me, and of course, if you know me you’ll know I’m not exactly a bubbly
people person. I’m a hardcore introvert. I didn’t have the personality for the
role, nor could I fake it. For a while there, with the classes and all, I
convinced myself I was charting a new path. When I realized I really wasn’t, at
least not anything like I wanted, it brought back all the feelings of dread and
pain that never really went away. I had dulled them with the idea I was making
progress, but now it felt like the only progress I made was digging a deeper emotional
hole.
As we hit the summer of 2019, tragedy visited me again. In
June, my last remaining brother Jose died. It was crushing for sure but what
made it more so was that now all 4 of my brothers were gone. The personal
struggles met my professional struggles trying to find a job and kicked off
that summer in the worst way.
It wasn’t all mental and emotional. Some of it was physical
too. It was also during that summer where I suffered a major injury I still
haven’t recovered from. My back could no longer support the burden of me. Most
of my adult life I was a side sleeper. Sometimes I’d curl up into a big ball as
I slept. For a few weeks in a row that summer I’d wake up through out the
night. I was uncomfortable. I had to keep shifting, trying new positions to
alleviate the pain enough to sleep. There was something wrong with my back
and/or hip. Sleeping on my side was aggravating it. I went to the doctor and other
than some minor stenosis and arthritis, they didn’t really find anything but my
back was definitely jacked. I’d go through stretches where for a week or two I
was walking very gingerly, then I would almost be fine for a bit afterwards
until it happened again. On a biking trip in Canada in late July 2019 I really
tweaked it and could barely walk for a few weeks. I needed a cane to get
around. By the end of August, I was still not right and saw more doctors. The
opinion was that the weight I was carrying was too much for my back and that
was causing the difficulty.
I began working for Univera Healthcare at the end of August.
I had again run out of money and was working from a place of desperation. It
was another call center job but it was better than most. I got the opportunity
to help people figure out their insurance concerns, give them advice, choices,
information and even initiate some actions on their behalf. I also worked
exclusively with people on Medicaid, Essential Plans and also people on state
enrolled plans which I was familiar with because I’d had all those plans
previously. My recent classes in coding and medical billing were helpful in
interpreting claims or benefits for members, which is a chunk of the calls I
get.
Unfortunately my injury to my back and hip had not improved
too much even months later. I had to learn to sleep on my back again after
20-25 years. I could not walk very far without my back locking up. When it
locks up it becomes harder to move my legs. Then within a minute or two of
that, my legs start to tremble and rapidly weaken. My hamstrings fail first and
then if I haven’t already found a seat or something to really lean on to reset
my back, I could fall down. It’s happened twice. My back locks, my legs can’t
take it, give out and I fall. I went to see another doctor and he told me, I
had to lose weight. My back couldn’t bear all the belly weight.
I had been a 300-pounder most of my adult life. But since I
am 6’3” with a large, wide frame, and very strong legs I never had any serious
issues. At this time I was maybe 380 to 390, my weight having gone up a good 50
pounds or more in the last few years after my sports playing days ended. I knew
if I could lose 20 pounds or so, my back and knees would feel a lot better and
perhaps I’d regain the ability to walk and stand for more than 5 minutes at a
time. I entered 2020 with new hope despite the fact this hole I dug was now so
deep, it was going to be hell to climb out.
March 2020. We’ll never forget it. That’s when Covid
arrived. When I left the office on March 16th, 2020 we were told we
were gonna try to work from home for a day or two and see what happens. A few
days became a few weeks and a few weeks became the foreseeable future. What the
company found out was that the entire staff could work from home and the
transition went almost seamlessly. I loved the change as it saved me over 2
hours of travel time a day. But that was where the good times ended.
The uncertainty was unnerving. Could I go out, was a mask
enough? I went to a grocery store with my roommate about a week or so into the
pandemic and there were so many people not interested in masking or spacing. I
got into the checkout line and the guy behind was literally a foot behind me in
line. So was his rambunctious kid. I gave a few nervous over the shoulder
looks. I then scooted up a few feet to create distance while gazing over my
shoulder right at them. They simply closed the distance. I finally paid, got
outside, took my mask off and had a panic attack. I would not go into a
supermarket or anywhere for more than a few minutes for a long time. 31 months
later and this still applies. I go back and forth sometimes, am I overdoing it?
To my knowledge I had not had covid. I am fully vaccinated.
I’m actually going in for my latest booster this weekend however I still do not
want covid. I have so many health issues, I don’t want to risk my life for a
few beers, or to see a local band, or a film. It’s just not worth it to me. On
those few occasions where I popped into a restaurant or a pharmacy, I get in
and out as quickly as I can.
I spoke of the panic attack I had 31 months ago at the
supermarket. I feel like this whole pandemic has been one long panic attack.
It’s exacerbated some of my worst qualities. Since I wasn’t going anywhere, I
found the need to shower every day not as important. Suddenly my motivation to
shave was gone. I was always in sweat or shorts. My desire to leave the house,
even to go outside for a bit was diminished. I could barely get up some days. I
was afraid. Afraid of what was out there, afraid of what was happening in the
world, what was happening to people. Bad news was everywhere. I lost things
that mattered to me, like Bailey cat and Lana cat. There was so much anger,
fear and feeling defeated. These were the worst days of my life. I stress ate.
390 quickly became 400. That quickly became 420, 440. About 6 or 7 months into
the pandemic I was about 475 pounds. It was by far the most I’ve ever weighed. I
ate ALL the comfort food. My previously injured back was overwhelmed. I
struggled to shower, to just walk around the house or take the garbage out. I
could barely be on my feet for a few minutes before my back locked and my legs
gave out.
One of the few positives of the pandemic was my professional
life. Not only not having to get on buses and go into the building at work, it
was nearly 2 years into my time with Univera and my pay had gone up almost 50%
from where I started. I started stocking up on supplies, paper products and the
like. Who knew when things would be short again? I wanted to be prepared
because we saw what happened last time with shortages. I should have been
saving money but I really wasn’t. I was ordering food delivery nearly every
day. And I’d always get too much food. A lot of times I’d rationalize and say,
well I’ll save some for lunch tomorrow. Then I’d eat it all and just order more
the next day. I’ve always been a stress eater and I’ve never been more
stressed. To say I was struggling was an understatement. I knew I needed help.
But with the danger of the virus and even more limited mobility than I’ve ever
had, the challenge of finding a therapist got even larger. It was the same old
story… not taking new patients, no hours that fit with my schedule, therapists that
don’t actually take insurance. With my health insurance I only had a $25 copay
for outpatient sessions with an in-network provider. I could afford it. But I
couldn’t find it. So again I tried the same old ways to solve problems I have
not been able to solve. Not even close. My hole was now a mighty crater and
instead of looking for a way out, I was just sitting in it. I honestly began to
wonder, was I digging a massive hole or a grave?
Almost a year ago I bottomed out. My blood pressure was very
high. My back was a wreck. My weight was out of control. I finally found a PCP
for the first time in almost a decade. I went in and got a small grocery list
of concerns. I got put on daily medications for the first time in my life.
Medications have improved things. My blood pressure is under
better control. So is my cholesterol. I got my blood sugar back to a reasonable
level. This past summer I rebounded a little. I went to a few outdoor events. I
did an Infringement show. I went to my beloved Toronto for 4 extended weekends. I got my
weight down and close to 400 pounds again but towards the end of the summer I
fell apart. I don’t know exactly what did it or if it was a combination of
things, but the weight started coming back. So did the despair. I was spending
too much money on food delivery again. My desire to go outside, which was
hanging on by a thread, started to evaporate once again. I somehow became even
less motivated. I don’t want to walk or go out anywhere. I don’t want to do
anything physical because I know it will hurt and I feel like a lifetime of
emotional, mental and physical pain has worn me down. I’m so tired of pain. And
I’m not saying this because I am looking for a way out, like suicide. That’s
not something I think about. I just don’t want to be in pain anymore so I stay
in my sanctuary and take no risks, other than the overeating and not
exercising. If moving hurts, I try not to move. If being around people makes me
jumpy, I stay away from people. I’m reading less news and things that could
irritate me. I spend most of my time watching fun videos, listening to music,
writing, watching sports, trying to enjoy simple pleasures, daydreaming. Is
this me living my best life? It is not, but I’m doing the best I can right now.
It’s like I’m in full survival mode. I don’t know why. I don’t know much of
anything, other than I am really struggling and really stuck. I know what I
doing now seems like an improvement but it’s not sustainable and it’s just me
hiding from the pain.
The truth is, I am still afraid to do most indoor events and
things because of covid. But more than that, I’m ashamed to go out and be seen,
afraid people will see me and think wow that guy is really fat and monstrous.
I’m afraid chairs won’t be big enough, or that I will break them and embarrass
myself even more. Even worse, I’m afraid people who know me, or who saw me in years
past will see me and think wow he really let himself go or something to that
effect. I’m never someone who goes out into the public and wants to be seen. I
prefer to be invisible, incognito, but being this large and awkward calls a lot
of attention my way… and a lot of judgment.
I know what I’m doing isn’t enough. I tried again to find
help. This time I didn’t search for it locally. I tried online mental health providers
and discovered that none of them are in-network for me, so I’d have to pay full
price. Bleh. Then when I was close to throwing up my hands again, I found one provider
that I could get a deal where each session was reduced to the point where it
was just a little bit more than it would cost me to go see a local provider
that took my insurance. How could I refuse? And now I am scared and excited to
go down this road. I just saw this sentiment on the Walking Dead the other
night and it really captures my thinking. I struggle to stay afloat, do just
enough to get by and often think; well it could be worse. But really, forget
that thinking. It could be worse but it could be better too… a lot better. It
should be Even though I may look like
I’ve given up, act like I’ve given up, the fact that I am still trying, at
least a little, to find a way out of this massive hole I dug for myself means
there’s still hope. And hope can sometimes get you out of holes.
