The Anecdote :

8 weeks post-surgery, I stumbled in and unloaded myself from my crutches onto the kitchen nook stool.

Niki reaches over and puts a brimming bowl of chicken pasta into my outstretched hand “Eat up!”

Or something like that, but I didn’t hear her as my attention and other hand were focused on frantically rummaging through the draw with squirrelled ferocity. “Spoon! I need a spoon!”

Niki calmly leaned over and handed me a spoon still warm from the dishwasher.

Only having given birth to our second son four weeks earlier, she was run off her feet, dealing with a newborn and an irritable manchild, both with insatiable appetites for food and her attention.

“What’s for dinner?” My remark flippant and, in hindsight, inconsiderate. My hunger so insatiable I didn’t notice Niki stop, now just staring at me.

I was about to ask again when I looked up, “WHAT!? what’s wrong?”

“WHAT’S WRONG?! You haven’t eaten the lunch in front of you, but you are badgering me about the next meal! What’s got into you!”.

I snapped back in defence – I don’t remember my words, but they likely weren’t considerate.

Niki’s face changed, “The kitchen is closed, dammit!”

I could hear my internal narrators whisper, “Flowers won’t fix this dumbass!”

She was right, of course! Since getting out of the hospital, I had been eating myself into a comma, testing the limits of the fridge and her patience.

I had to choose my next words very carefully. “I’m sorry, babe; I genuinely appreciate everything you do for me.”

I wasn’t sure what to do about it. I was always hungry and moody; to make matters worse, I now looked like I was the pregnant one – but I still wanted more.

I felt like I was out of control and abusing my body and my ever-supportive wife.

The Realisation

Later that week, at my check up I understood what was going on.

“You’ve picked up a fair amount of weight Mr G – we need to up your dose of Metformin.”

I just rolled my eyes at the nurse, “But I’m hungry all the time!”

“Yep, that’ll be the Dex, but if you don’t get things under control, you’re going to end up with full-blow diabetes.”

“Dex?”

“Yes, Dexamethasone, to manage the swelling on your brain, we are weaning you off slowly.”

“What do you mean weaning me off? Like an addict?

“Yes, you’ve been on a high dose for some time now, so you likely grown a dependency.”

I couldn’t believe how casually she told me that they had turned me into a drug addict, no discussion about side effects or the fact that I could become dependent on them. Just take these

I was now a drug addict! Sure, I wasn’t stealing cars or stumbling out of bars, but I was now dependent on a chemical that was essentially causing havoc in my life. Having been a personal trainer for over a decade, the idea of now being a drug addict made me angry, and I tore into the nurse!

“Why didn’t anyone ask for my permission or at the least tell me the risks?”
She did her best to manage me ” Mr G., the alternative to taking Dex, is not worth considering.”

She was right, of course, but I was too angry to hear it. Between the metaphor in and the dex, I was en route to diabetes and a straight jacket!

The worst part was I had to keep taking the poison for another 8 weeks.

Taking accountability

8 weeks passed quickly, and I guess I hoped that when the drugs ended, all would go back to normal. I’d drop weight and be less of an arsehole. It turns out that’s not how it works, and instead, I got very bitter about the situation. I hadn’t done this to myself, and I didn’t deserve it!

The reality was that I had a wife and two kids that were depending on me to get my shit together, and the longer I complained about the situation without doing something about it, the worse it was going to get.

I got progressively worse; instead of being a fit trainer who would ride and train between 4 – 5 times a week with a proactive mindset, I had lost that of late and needed to get it back. Now, all I did was eat and watch TV. I couldn’t ride and didn’t feel much used to anyone.

One morning, I woke up sore and annoyed at the world. Ethan, our newborn, was screaming, and Niki – exhausted from running around after the two of us asked me to get him.

Annoyed at the situation, I lifted my leg and dropped off the bed, reaching from crutches and made my way across to Ethan’s room.

I could smell his nappy from the door “Precoffee nappy change! Lucky me!”

He kicked and screamed as I did my best to clean and replace the nappy. “Hold still… hold still! Struggling to balance on my right leg, I propped myself up on the crutch as I grew increasingly frustrated at my inability to secure his nappy while balancing properly up my crutches. “FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, JUST HOLD STILL!” as I pressed him into the change mat. His eyes shot wide, and I could see the fright shoot through his little body.

I was immediately guilt-ridden. I hadn’t hurt my newborn son, but I had never felt so frustrated and out of control, and it scared me!

The reality of my situation set in, I had to make the changes and pull myself out of this spiral, and take responsibility for the change I wanted to see.

I may not have been responsible for how I got here, but I was absolutely responsible for climbing my way out.

What I did to fix it

Naturally, it took time, but the more insight I had about my new normal, the more tools I had to do what was needed.

I realised its progress wouldn’t be simple, and I would stumble many times in the process. I chose the outcome I wanted, then committed to what was needed to get there, working on one obstacle at a time.

Diabetes meant that my normal diet of complex carbs, lean protein and low fat wasn’t sufficient, and through much trial and error, we settled on a new low-carb diet that supported my blood sugar and ultimately allowed me to kick the rest of the diabetes drugs entirely.

We prioritised sleep more as Ethan started to sleep longer between feeds.

As my moods and weight stabilised, I turned my attention to fitness.

With the help of a pedal-assisted mountain bike, I got back on the trails or, as I like to call it, my mental health tune-ups. I had forgotten how much getting into the forest had meant to me.

My new normal was beginning to look not so bad.

Conclusion

It sounds harsh, but whether the situation is your doing or not, you are still responsible for getting yourself out of it. Blame and holding grudges will stop you from taking accountability and finding a solution. Taking responsibility can be difficult at first, but it’s essential.

It’s daunting because accountability can be overwhelming, so reach out to those around you for help. It’s also far easier to help someone who has taken responsibility and is focused on the solution.

The good news is that taking responsibility for your situation puts the power of change in your hands. The longer you leave someone accountable for your change, the longer your change depends on them, and you may not like the outcome.

Being the change you want means taking accountability, and this often means forgiving and forgetting.

Let go of resentment and replace it with focus and hope.

CTA: Join EMS Every Day if you want to learn more about developing a mindset for action.