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Teros Level 50&51&52&53: The Hall of Memories

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So this is it: Level 50.  This is my 50th challenge in a row.  I started back here a few years ago.  As such, I think that this level 50 would be a good idea to recap what has happened so far, and at the end; what my upcoming plans are.  I'm going to make this a longer challenge and roll it over to the next one.  I'm also going to write about my history.  That way, I can use *this* challenge as a reference for the future to link to everything else.

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So this is it: Level 50.  This is my 50th challenge in a row.  I started back here a few years ago.  As such, I think that this level 50 would be a good idea to recap what has happened so far, and at the end; what my upcoming plans are.  I'm going to make this a longer challenge and roll it over to the next one.  I'm also going to write about my history.  That way, I can use *this* challenge as a reference for the future to link to everything else.
So long as your story includes references to a wee campaign that was somewhat popular a few years ago.

I still refer to sodas as Sodamus pus.

Sent from my CPH1725 using Tapatalk

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On 1/2/2019 at 10:18 PM, Korranation said:

You killin it Teros!!


On 1/2/2019 at 11:44 PM, Wolfen said:




On 1/3/2019 at 9:53 AM, Tanktimus the Encourager said:

Congrats on your 50th challenge!



Thank you very much :)


On 1/4/2019 at 1:30 AM, Thom Ulfhedinn said:

So long as your story includes references to a wee campaign that was somewhat popular a few years ago.

I still refer to sodas as Sodamus pus.


Oh it will, it will...and more.  Good to see you.


On 1/4/2019 at 8:18 PM, T2sarahconnor said:

Congrats Teros!  Can't wait to see what you have in store for us!


Judging how I've been mulling this challenge over, I'm going to have a lot.  This is a slow-burn for sure.


On 1/4/2019 at 8:48 PM, Korranation said:

Those campaigns back in the day were great


2 hours ago, RES said:

Congrats on 50! I was commenting on another thread the other day how much I missed the RPG campaigns 


I miss them too, and I have stuff in store for the future.




I've been rehashing a few times how the hell I plan on setting up this challenge.  The idea was simple: recap stuff.  But the more I think about it and the more something has been going on in my life; the more I think I need to structure this differently than intended.  I'm going to post in sections: a challenge recap, a life recap, and then maybe stuff going on with me.


I've gone back and forth about omitting pieces of this but I realized something with putting this off:  I'm afraid.  This is daunting.  This is going to take a lot out of me, more than the last dozen+ challenges that I've done.  I've been extremely lackadaisical in my posting for literally years of being here now and the *thought* of even doing a lot is a drain on me and makes me feel uneasy. 


This is why I'm going to complete this challenge - no matter how long the challenge itself goes.


You see, dozens of challenges have become basically me checking in to make sure that I'm alive, and not really anything of substantial merit.  However since about Christmas, I've been rolling around a lot of concepts in my head.  The bulk of the past couple years:

-Promise a good challenge

-Delay posting

-Make a couple of big posts to scratch the itch in my head that was nagging me to post

-Trail off and not have anything really accomplished


Well I'm done with that.  The challenge of this challenge is to finish the challenge.  Rather than this being a time-deadline challenge like all other challenges (you have 4 weeks to get X, Y, Z accomplished), I'm shifting focus on getting the above information finished NO MATTER THE LENGTH.  No more trailing off.  No more 'on' and 'off' posting.  Just muscle through it, all of it, until it's fucking done.  With that, it's time to start the challenge:


Challenge #1:


The setting:


It was March, 2013.  I was tired. Desperate.  Miserable.  I had been in a loveless relationship for well over a decade.  I felt like anything I tried with weightloss didn't work.  I had done nutrisystem.  I had done atkins.  I had done weightwatchers.  I had done slimfast.  I had tried walking a lot.  I tried lifting.  No matter what the hell happened, I would drop a couple of pounds, feel better, and then fall into an abyss and get worse and feel dejected.  My girlfriend I felt resented and hated me.  Our pattern was for me to:

1-Get pissed


3-Try getting my shit together

4-Girlfriend agrees begrudgingly

5-Girlfriend sabotages the situation

6-I have a moment of weakness

7-I relapse

8-Excuses are the nails that build the house of failure

9-I feel horrible and self-loathing

10-Spiral into a deeper depression

11-I get pissed (Repeat step 1-10)


In March 2013, some looking up about this new-fangled 'paleo' diet lead to the land of NerdFitness.  I took like a fish to water.  Level up my life?  Life is a videogame?  There were, like, stats and stuff?  This looks awesome.  I already had the mentality of an alter ego, a 'Tyler Durden' with the identity of Teros; so this seemed too good to be true.  Her and I both sign up.  My girlfriend, as usual, quit after about a week.  However, I stuck around.


My first challenge was simple:


I wanted to lift 3x a week, do cardio 1x week, and follow some sort of paleo guidelines.  I didn't understand S.M.A.R.T. goals yet (Specific, Measurable, Attainable, Realistic, and Trackable).  But that didn't matter. It was my first challenge so I was wide-eyed and ready to jump into the new April 2013 challenge.  The (back then) 6-Week challenge had begun.  I wasn't sure what to expect.  I just knew that I played plenty of online games before and I was able to make friends on there so this shouldn't be much different, right?  The challenge ran through my birthday (I'm a May-baby: Taurus all the way) and by the end of the challenge, I had acquired Brutus, my tractor tire.  At the time, Bestie was going through a rough divorce and had his two kids.  My posts were roughly 1-2 paragraphs at maximum which basically said what I did for food or workouts and I left it at that.  With that, Teros became an Adventurer.


Who I am Entry #1:


My birthname is Mike Baker.  It is probably the most boring and uneventful name that has ever been created, akin to a 'John Smith' in boringness.  I feel the first entry should go up to 2nd grade.


As a tiny tiny baby, I had blonde hair.  Extremely curly blonde hair.  Blue eyes.  My mom would unroll the curls of my hair all the way down to my butt and then let go and they would sproing back into place.  Eventually my hair started to darken and I went to pre-school.  My mom had been extremely protective: my sister telling me years later that my mom was paranoid about me being cold and would wrap me in multiple blankets.  Once I was red-faced and my mom thought I was cold - my sister realized that I was sweating to death. 


The players in my life (which will get into more detail as I go on):

-My Mom

-My Sister, T

-My sister's husband, Ro

-My Uncle J


My mom had T at a young age and then 17 years later, my mom had me.  As such, the ages are a bit wonky.  My mom is more like an out-of-touch and crotchety grandma, while my sister is more like a 'hip' friend-mom.  The men in my life don't matter and spoiler alert: will never amount to anything.


It's the first day of pre-school and my over-protective mom is hoping that I'll cling to her leg and not want to go to school.  She was D-E-A-D W-R-O-N-G.  I couldn't wait to get away.  I ran up to the group of kids that were playing and I waved at them and said, 'HI! I'M MICHAEL BAKER!"  and the kids, according to my mom, 'flocked' around me.  My new closest friend was named Jason and we hung out a lot.  I even made a little picture-book that had him in it.  Things looks decent for me.


Then 1st grade happened.  I went to a public school and there were two things that seriously fucked me up.  The first, which I'm sure plenty of people deal with, was bullies.  There were a trio of them.  There was a head honcho bully and 2 lackys.  The lackys I don't remember, but the head honcho was named Anthony.  He had a face like a swollen red brick and short spiky hair.  I would get ridiculed and beaten up on a daily basis.  I had gotten a red and black puffy jacket for the winter.  The day I went to school, Anthony grabbed a sleeve and started swinging me around and around.  The other lackys did the same, eventually tearing the sleeves and all the stuffing pouring out of the jacket while they would spit on me.  I was thrown into a brick wall and the back of my head slammed against it.  I went momentarily blind.  It was probably only a couple of seconds but I blacked out, fell on the ground, and panicked.  I remember it too well - I still can see the metal chain-link fence on the left hand side of me that I ended up collapsing and leaning at.  I remember days when I would sit huddled on the ground, back to the brick wall, knees up to my face and hugging myself, refusing to go back inside because of how traumatized I was.


While the daily beatings, being spit on, and insults should have been enough for me, I had another threat to deal with: Miss Winn, my 1st grade teacher.  This teacher had tenure and wasn't allowed to be fired.  I remember her shriveled apple of a face, a dehydrated husk of a human being.  Her teaching method was simple: each year, take one child and discipline and scold them every day to be used as an example for all of the others.  I was the chosen one for this task.  I was told to raise my hand, or not raise my hand, or speak up, or not speak up, or to give a wrong answer when I knew the right one - whatever the case, and was then screamed at to go to the principal's office.  Detention constantly.  Punishment daily.  Let that be a lesson to every other kid to make sure they raise their hand, as I sulked off down the brown hallway in tears.


I had to sit on the left-hand side, 1st row, directly in front of the teacher's desk so I could be watched at all times.  In this school, there was an 'advanced reading group'.  How it worked, was the teacher took all the "smart kids" and they were brought to the back corner of the room.  They had special workbooks and would take turns reading a story and then a couple of reading comprehension questions were asked.  The "regular" or "stupid" kids were to do a small reading and writing assignment in complete silence while the smart kids were busy in the back with the teacher.  I was with the regular kids and had the usual stupid assignment that everyone else struggled with.  I wanted to be in the reading group.  I was able to pay attention and answer all the questions before the smartpants kids could.  One day, I did just that.  The smart kids were reading a story.  I did my writing assignment and was done in a couple of minutes and waiting in the front row desk as the others would mispronounce the words.  The teacher started asking questions.  First one was asked and there was a chorus of 'Uhmmmmm's and 'ehhhhh's.  I knew the answer so I raised my hand.  I didn't dare turn around because that was a rule so I sat in silence with my arm up.  Eventually the smart kids got the 1st question and then the 2nd, etc.  Each time, I knew what it was and eventually, I couldn't handle the agonizing amount of time if took for the kids to respond so I said it out loud.  The class was deafened.  The teacher walked up to me, standing directly over me.  She told me that I was too dumb to answer the question and then asked me why I wasn't doing my assigned work.  I said I finished it already and was scoffed at.  I handed her my paper and it was done like I said.  I knew the answer and I wanted to help.  I was screamed at and was ordered to go to the principal's office yet again.


Eventually, it got so bad and I was becoming so neurotic because of this constant shaming and yelling from her, and insulting and beating from bullies that I snapped.  I was threatened to go to the principal's office again and the receptionist wasn't there.  I snuck in and I hid underneath the bench in the office.  It was an old wooden bench - it sort of looked like a church pew where it was solid.  I flattened myself against the wall and I still remember the cobwebs and dust that was all in my curly hair, tears streaming down my face and pooling leftwise to pat onto the floor.  I laid there, crying in silence, for a long time.  Other people even had shown up and sat on the bench.  I remember the creaking right above my head and seeing the back of some guy's pants and shoes as I laid there miserably.  A few people came and went before the receptionist heard a scuffle or cough made by me and had me get out from under the bench.  This was my entire first year, in a nutshell.  I was made daily to feel like I was wrong no matter who I was or what I did, and was verbally and physically punished for it.


Currently #1:


I have started seeing a therapist.  One that I choose and seems to be easy to relate to.  I've only been going for a couple of weeks but I've been recapping who I am and what I feel.   I felt that it was necessary to understand my background before I got into any current issues that I'm facing.  I think for everyone, understanding the logic and motives, or the reason 'why' behind each person is crucial in order to give advice or relate.  Plenty of people like or dislike things, but the subconscious reasoning for that is more important than the answers themselves, I feel.  As such, I started talking about my past and certain bits of information seemed to crop up in conversation which didn't when I write about it.  As such, oddly enough the 50th challenge coincides with my own reflective work that I'm doing.  I go on Fridays and on my way home from therapy, my emotions hit me like a ton of bricks.  I'll write about this in later posts but I've always been able to keep a lid on how I was feeling.  As in, I could feel a specific feeling but I would also still be thinking.  My brain doesn't turn on when my emotions turn on.  In fact, it might be the opposite: my feelings that churn inside me give rise to even more thinking.  Some people can't argue while angry, but for me I can't argue *unless* I'm angry.  Expression needs to be evoked with emotion.  That's why it was uncharacteristic of me to start crying hysterically after I got out of therapy, to the point I had to move over to the right because any minute I was going to need to pull over since I couldn't see.  I felt....everything.  I had processed what had happened to me.  Like, the stuff is in the past, I thought about it, and let's move forward.  I felt like I was done with feeling feelings from the past.  It comes off as needless and inefficient.  In the post above: yes, I was beaten daily by three people.  Yes, I was yelled at and threatened daily by an adult.  Yes, I hated myself and thought everything that made me who I was, was somehow 'bad' and 'wrong'.  But that happened.  Why do I need to deal with it anymore?  Apparently, I may have logically processed what happened, but that doesn't mean I emotionally processed what happened.  That's the only reason I can give for why I was going to swerve on the highway with the inside of my sunglasses smattered with tears and not being able to catch my breath mere minutes after therapy.


I'm sick of false starts.  Today is a new Day 1 for whole30.  I have also signed up to a gym.


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Same here with the bullies, crazy teacher, and paranoid mom.
And being in a special class means that you were a few grade levels above the material being taught. My sister and I were put into special reading classes and when we were tested read three grade levels above our current class. It’s a shame that the school system doesn’t promote the higher thinkers and still stick with the “nobody gets left behind” model.

And it’s awesome that you’re seeing a therapist. It’s a big step to see someone and process it emotionally. Going through experiences like that growing up makes it easier to detach or become de personalized. It is a tremendous shock reconnect with emotions. Kind of like becoming blind and just when you’re use to it and adjusted your eyes turn back on and it’s a sensory overload.

It’s good to see you on the forums. And keep at it with the challenge. Writing a lot here can take some time and energy so don’t be afraid to post fragments and come back to it later.

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On 1/6/2019 at 4:21 PM, Nova Aquarii said:

And here's to crushing 2019!


I will.  Not 'I hope' or 'I think I can'.  I WILL.


22 hours ago, Tanktimus the Encourager said:

Coming to that realization was a big part of my development.


I didn't know there was a difference because I mean, I've felt angry and cried and felt like shit before when I bring that stuff up; but I sorted it in my head and then put it away in a huge bin called 'painful memories'.


19 hours ago, Korranation said:

Same here with the bullies, crazy teacher, and paranoid mom.


It’s a shame that the school system doesn’t promote the higher thinkers and still stick with the “nobody gets left behind” model.

 It is a tremendous shock reconnect with emotions. Kind of like becoming blind and just when you’re use to it and adjusted your eyes turn back on and it’s a sensory overload.


Sorry to hear you went through something similar.


It's a shift to cater to the lowest common denominator, rather than having everyone show improvement based on their levels.  I understand that no one wants a kid to be 'left behind', but the opposite is happening where there are kids that are able to achieve way way more but won't.  I'm sorry but wasted potential is worse than stratifying kids.



It was something that I didn't expect at all.  It was the fact it was so sudden.  Like 5 seconds ago, I was fine.  Then I'm a goddamn mess.  It usually takes HOURS of that rumination to bring up something even half as heavy within me.


Challenge #2:


My second challenge was based more on construction.  I started using a sledgehammer now.  The idea of being able to swing a weapon around seemed really awesome.  In all my prior attempts to get healthy, there was nothing that really stuck for me until using a hammer.  I became a permanent believer in the phrase, "the best workout is the one you do".  Trying to optimize a workout is great and all, but if it's not something you want to bother doing and actually dread, it is only a matter of time before a person gets a case of the 'fuck-its' and stops.  This challenge also had me doing some little DIY stuff besides the gym.  Since it was getting hot as hell, I wanted to get an air conditioner installed.  The problem is that the only room that it could be put into had a rusty storm window which only opened a couple of inches on the top.  There was no way that an ac could fit.  So, I used my new hallmark: the sledgehammer, and smashed out the window, constructed a plexiglass wrap-around to fit in the window frame and make the ac fit snuggly.  It worked perfectly and I was proud of the MaGuyvering that I did seeing as how I don't know the 'real' way I should have handled that dilemma. 


I also started my wall-ups.  At the start of this journey, I was 360 pounds and trying to do a single pushup was impossible. I saw that doing knee-pushups was a bad idea.  Being on your knees means that your core isn't tightened up.  Although everyone and their grandma seems to think that knee pushups is the 'lighter' version of a regular pushup, it doesn't help you the way lots of people think.  As such, I started taking a couple steps away from the wall and leaning while being on my tippy-toes to do wall-ups.  My plan was simple:  do wall-ups all the damn time until I could do sets of them, and then upgrade to inclined pushups.  So wall-ups began.  And now, Brutus, my 250 lb tractor tire was part of my homegym.  I also think it's important to point out that I have no idea wtf I'm doing when it comes to cooking as I state:

On 6/12/2013 at 2:23 PM, Teros said:

never made baba ghanoush.  The first time I ever had hummus was 2 weeks ago.  I never knew that about inflammation. 


I didn't season it with anything- again I kind of suck at cooking since I know nothing about seasoning.  My mom would cook potatoes, carrots, and beef chunks in lipton beefy onion broth and called that a 'complex' stew.

I also started having a group of people following my challenge - I'm assuming because of piqued interest in my homegym ideas.  I would post the original pictures but photobucket is a worthless piece of shit soaked in virus and malware garbage.  I tried to even log on to my old account to save the original files to then reupload using CubeUpload since it's the only remotely reliable option but within SECONDS of going on photobucket, I get popups and 'secure network' shit everywhere.  I think porn sites have less viruses than that hot mess.  Anyways, my second challenge was here:




Who I am Entry #2:


After the torture of that year, I wasn't the same at all.  The lively happy kid that welcomed everyone with open arms just a year prior now was buried underneath complete social awkwardness and self-loathing.  What happened was conditioning to a child.  By being told I was bad, wrong, and everything I did was a mistake, I believed it.  It was gaslighting.




My mom decided to put me into a private school.  Surely there wouldn't be an assholes in a religious school, right?


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I had to take all the IQ tests.  Because of what had happened, the school and my mom weren't even sure if I needed to stay back.  I scored near-genius levels but my socializing was completely shot.  I didn't even look people in the eye, instead staring at my feet.  It was decided to have me continue on to the second grade.  In the second grade, I met my bestie, who I'll name 'Jay'.  He was a tall and skinny kid.  I also met Israel, who became my second bestie.
I also met...Quinn.
First up is Israel.  He was a little bit of a chunky kid who bullied me a bit.  He was bad at showing that he wanted to be friends but after a little bit, we grew on each other and things worked out pretty well.  Eventually we would get home and call each other when on the toilet.  It was a running joke that we were, as we put it, "Crap-onically linked" since when one of us was pooping, the other one was as well.  Synchronized bowel movements.  Can't get closer than that.
Jay only stayed at the private school for that year: his family splitting and them not having the money to afford private school for the 3rd grade.  However, we kept in touch all the time.  He would come over and we would play outside - going to the back brook area and throwing stuff there.  We would hunt for white rocks, which for some reason we both prized and would hoard.  Over the years, Israel would become my closer friend because of the fact we stayed in school; but Jay was always in the background.  We went to Newport Creamery and they had these 'cow coins'.  They were cheap little coins with the creamery's mascot on them.  Every time you went to Newport Creamery, you got these coins and a certain number of them could be saved up and then go towards free stuff.  Well Jay and I went and we almost had enough coins.  I really wanted a hot fudge sundae.  Jay says, "you can have my coin" and I took it, got the ice cream, and shared it with him.
Image result for newport creamery coin



The last person that is of importance was Quinn.  Red hair.  Freckles.  He was like an emaciated version of the kid from Christmas Story. 


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He would pick on me a bit, just like Israel did.  But I tried to be friends with him.  One night, he comes over and we end up playing Mortal Kombat on the Sega Genesis.  It's bedtime but he has the idea to sneak back downstairs and keep playing.  My mom was asleep on the couch (as always) and I had to sit on the top stair and watch her while she slept because I didn't want to get in trouble.  He played that game for hours without letting me play.  Sleep deprived, it was morning and his parents didn't want to pick him up so my mom had to drive him home.  Before leaving, Quinn wanted to go behind the green bar area.  The cellar was furnished and the corner of the living room was a mock bar/corner, with a bar stool and this cheap fake green marble countertop.  However, this was Jay and I's secret base of operations (obviously).  It had such 'treasures' as army men, a metal tin, some papers, and a couple gaming magazines.  Quinn kept fighting with me to get behind the bar but I blockaded him, telling him that he's not allowed.  This...this started a 7 year long war.
After that, I became Quinn's enemy.  I was ridiculed every single day during recess, during lunch, after school, on the bus, everywhere.  In this catholic school, it was a class of 24 people and this would be the SAME 24 people until high-school.  The bullying and taunting done by Quinn was horrible.  Hitting wasn't allowed, but that didn't mean I couldn't be ridiculed incessantly by this little flaming shit.  We would get into arguments and the rest of the class would spectate: not siding with either one of us.  I hated school and my grades were bordering on failing.  It wasn't because I didn't now how to do it: I just didn't give a shit.  I was threatened by my mom (when she was awake) at home and bullied while at school.  I turned more and more to videogames.  They were already a crutch during first grade when it was hell to go to school, but the escapism that videogames brought was needed constantly.  I can remember playing for 6-8 hours every day after I got home and then trying to get homework done late at night and thinking 'fuck this' and going to bed.  I wasn't getting sleep.  I had frequent nightmares.  I was antisocial (except calling Jay and Israel).  I also started eating a lot.  Candy, cakes, doughnuts, you name it.  My entire family were junk food hoarders and enablers.  Cocaine isn't legal: reese's are.  Since my sister was at work and my mom was asleep because she worked third shift, I had no parental figure at all.  My mom would wake up at 6 or 7, we would eat, and she would sit and watch tv with her coffee and cigarettes, under a blanket, and wait until she had to go to work.  Meanwhile I played videogames or was yelled at to do homework.
Second grade was the birth of Teros.  You see, certain games would have initials and a game-save name to continue your progress.  I was putting 'Mike' or 'MRB' for my file names but I hated it.  I hated myself.  So much so, that I didn't even want to see my name ever written.  I didn't think it was heroic.  Mike the hero?  No. That's fucking dumb, I thought.  Instead I needed a name that felt more suited to action and adventure.  Something not super complex but also not heard of before.  And then, like lightning I came up with the name 'Teros'.  When I was able to input a hero name, 'Teros' would be what I used.  As the years went by, this name and its significance became more and more solidified in my consciousness.  Mike was weak.  Stupid.  A loser.  Mike was bad.  Wrong.  Mike was a failure no matter what.  All of what I thought I was because of that gaslighting was pushed aside and lumped together as one entity, while the polar opposite was what I wished I was.  Teros was strong.  Smart.  Teros was good.  Right.  Teros was the winner, the role model.  The hero.  I had no heroes in my life to look up to, so I made my own.  Teros would beat the game on hard difficulty and wouldn't quit on beating the boss.  Teros got the girl, saved the town, made the coins.  Teros looked how I wanted to look.  He fought how I wanted to fight.  He was everything I wished I was.  When playing a game, I wasn't the little fat loser that was inherently wrong and bad; who couldn't even do a knee pushup in gym class.  I wasn't the scared boy crying under a bench or being beaten and ridiculed: I was the embodiment of the hero.  So I stayed like that for countless hours - every minute that I was able to, I was playing a game.  If I wasn't playing a game, I was eating.  I did both at the same time, preferably.  But eventually the game had to shut off, the candy ran out, and...
Image result for back to reality eminem



Currently #2:

This is day #2 of whole30+.  The first half of the day is always the easiest.  Once it gets dark out is when my mind wanders and I want to binge eat fucking EVERYTHING.  There's nothing non-w30 around me right now.  The most I can binge is some applesauce.



I decided that I'm going to work more days, but less hours per day.  It worked really well for me on Friday.  Today I did the same.  I worked, got gas, went for a walk with my walking buddy, Chucky-Ducky, ate breakfast (steak+sausage+brussle sprouts+blueberry applesauce), took my multivitamin, showered, got dressed, cleaned up a bit, and then relaxed with some NTSF:SD:SUV::  If you don't know this show, it's fucking amazing.  I've been binging as many shows as possible before classes start up.  I wanted to finish this and Eric Andre Show, and then I'm going to start reading a book I never finished.  Splitting my days like this allows me a sweet spot.  You see, if I did 8 hours, I wouldn't eat until I got home.  And then that means I was be ravenous and I wouldn't work out.  By spreading my hours out, I'm basically just missing breakfast so I'm doing intermittent fasting and then working out and eat by noon.  Then I have enough time before I have to go to decompress and go to class.  I'm figuring this will be my setup:


Sunday: Homework/Other

Monday: Work-Workout-Eat-Shower-Class

Tuesday: Work-Workout-Eat-Shower-Class

Wednesday: Internship-Work

Thursday: Internship-Class

Friday: Work-Workout-Eat-Shower-Therapy-Work

Saturday: Homework/Other


Wednesday is going to be impossible- 8 hours of internship and then 8 hours of work.  I have to break this up somehow but I'm not sure what to do.  I'm debating swapping my workday on Tuesday with my Internship hours but I haven't decided.  Thursdays will suck but not nearly as much, as the class is a snooze-fest that I couldn't care less about.  I know that these 2 days I won't be exercising, so it's important that I work out on the other 5 days.  I'm going for consistency here - short walk, some free weights, hit the gym, whatever.



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I am honoured to be here my friend.
Good to see you working on healing yourself so well.

Ah, the days of the hammer. I reckon that is the reason we connected in the first place. The only two nutters that swung a sledge hammer for fitness, or so it felt. Friendship grew as we followed each other in challenges and the like.

I have often thought of you my friend and how you have been going.

Sent from my CPH1725 using Tapatalk

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On 1/7/2019 at 6:28 PM, Thom Ulfhedinn said:

I am honoured to be here my friend.
Good to see you working on healing yourself so well.

Ah, the days of the hammer. I reckon that is the reason we connected in the first place. The only two nutters that swung a sledge hammer for fitness, or so it felt. Friendship grew as we followed each other in challenges and the like.

I have often thought of you my friend and how you have been going.


You know, I never was able to figure out how much it would cost to mail you a gift that I was getting you.  I can't find it anymore, but I had a little super mario hammer brother that I intended to mail to you a long time ago.  This guy:

Related image


11 hours ago, Wolfen said:

I know you'll figure it out.


Eventually.  Oh manning, that toe-head.


Challenge #3:

 I've solidified my tire + sledgehammer stuff.  I wanted to build more things so I wanted to take my old desk that I hated and repurpose it into a gaming shelving station.  The plan was to drill holes into the legs and then insert pegs, then get some wood cut and lay that inside to turn the portion where your legs would go under a desk- into the shelves for the video game consoles.  It was that or to start learning guitar.  I wasn't (and still am not) ready to learn guitar; but the intent has been there as I started to feel more comfortable about myself.  My thread felt like it was becoming popular and I met some people that are still around today, like @Tateman, @Jonesy  and @Ensi.  Also I remember how supportive @Evicious was.  Also, I felt that stretching was probably important but I completely neglected it...and still do.  I had found out about Spartan races.  My long term goals were to lose 100 pounds, do triple-clap pushups, and beat a Spartan race.  All of which seemed a lifetime away because of how difficult doing any of this stuff was.


I also grew green beans that challenge, which I thought was awesome.  Going back to my other challenges is helping me get in touch with my roots and the reason I signed up to NF in the first place.  I need to comment on people's threads and I know I neglect to do that.


I started a whole 30 and was counting the days in that challenge.  This post is where I'm at right now:


On 9/12/2013 at 1:45 PM, Teros said:

DAY 5: More Anger

I almost cried last night because of all the nerves and hunger.  I really don't know what I'm doing wrong.  I'm eating veges, and meat, and a bit of fruit, and some fat.  Looking at the whole 30 sheet- I'm spot-on.   I ate 3 hamburgers, a cup or fried mushrooms, half a bag of cauliflower, a plum, a whole sweet potato, and some clarified butter... I was HUNGRY 45 minutes later.  Is my body just STUPID?  I'm angry that my g/f is feeling fine and I'm not.  I'm angry at my body for being to dumb to know what food is.  I'm just boiling mad.  I'm just so....pent up.  Like if my mind was holding up a flood and I feel myself crack.

At least this time around, I know it will pass.  I just need to stick with it.  Amazingly, I remember eating that meal and how much it bothered me.  Whenever I talk to people about whole30 and talk about the phases, that meal is the example that I give.

Who I am Entry #3:


I had the concept of Teros as a free-floating idea in my head that over time became more and more prominent within my own psyche.  Jay had left school in 3rd grade but we hung out when we were able to.  Sadly, Quinn stayed the entire 7 years at Catholic school.  My days had become routine:  begrudgingly go to school, try to learn and trading barbs with Quinn throughout the day, rush home, grab as much junk food as possible and stay in my room and play videogames for a few hours, try to get homework done, go back to videogames and eventually fall asleep.  There wasn't much interacting with the rest of the family.  My sister was a workaholic and upon retrospect, was probably doing so because she hated her marriage and felt more cared about and valued at work than at home.  My brother-in-law was (and still is) a bumbling oaf, unable to cook, clean (the house or himself), or do basic maintenance.  The closest I can describe him as, is Tim Allen in Home Improvement, only more angry and inept.



Family interactions sucked.  The entire dynamic is awful.  My sister and brother in law spent money recklessly and lived beyond their means.  My mom spoiled both of us, but would continually rub in my face that she *was* spoiling me - making me feel guilty for ever giving a gift.  I was made to feel like I didn't deserve whatever the gift was.  This very specific act is so ingrained in me that EVEN TO THIS DAY my brain responds only 2 ways if I've given an item:  indifference or crying.  I get an item and I feel like I'm not worthy of it, or my brain shuts off and I realize I don't want it.


In grade school, I still believed in Santa and I was told that I needed to take 'extra special care' of every single item I ever got.  I didn't want the stuff that I was given and I would make piles during the holidays of things that I didn't want: things I felt were wasted on me and needless / versus / items I might actually like and use.


Other things to note that happened during this time period:


The tree-  My brother-in-law was yelled at by my sister to 'spend time outside' with me (which totally made me feel valued).  We back to the brook and there was a yellow rope tied to a high branch.  Where it came from, no one knows: before the house was there, it was swampland.  Ro grabs the yellow rope and yells like Tarzan as he swung across the brook.  The problem is that the entire fucking tree fell.  I remember running for my life through the forest as a tree came directly at me.  There's a trope in action movies where a big thing is falling in a straight line and a view thinks, "Hey why not just go to the LEFT or RIGHT to avoid the falling thing?"  That's logic and when you're terrified, that doesn't apply.  At least for my tiny kid brain.  The top half of the tree fell on me- getting lacerated really bad with tree branches.  I ran home and screamed I was in pain.  My mom and sister were horrified to see the bottom half of me shredded up and bleeding.  My brother-in-law just fell in the water and was fine.


Easter Fall - Eggs were hidden downstairs on easter and I went to go downstairs but tripped on my brother-in-law's gigantic stupid flip-flop like slippers.  I fell down the stairs and banged myself up pretty bad.


Burn - My mom in maybe 2nd or 3rd grade told me that my hair was still dirty and she said it was because I used cold water.  I apparently was a pioneer (https://www.medicaldaily.com/benefits-cold-showers-7-reasons-why-taking-cool-showers-good-your-health-289524 ) but my mom didn't want to hear why I was ok with colder showers.  Instead, I was stripped down and got in the shower.  She turned the hot water on maximum and burned me.  I remember screaming and grabbing at the water dial thingy but my mom was standing outside of the shower, her hand firmly on the handle to make sure I couldn't turn it down colder.  She said I had to 'deal with it' until I was ok with it.


I also grew up in these years hearing my mom's fucking mantra, "All men are pigs and assholes that only think with their dicks."  Once in a great while, she would realize that I'm a boy and would say, 'cept you'. 


My mom....didn't understand me and still doesn't to this day.  She was there financially but not emotionally.  After years of being bullied and evenings where I would cry and she would insist I talk to her, then cut me off, talk over me, or insist that I was wrong; I tried less and less to have any sort of connection with her.  By the time the 8th grade rolled around, I remember sitting in that awful love seat that had a smokey blue-gray and flecks of orange pattern and crying and saying how I felt so depressed and angry.  My mom, sipping her coffee and smoking her cigarette while some murder-mystery show played loudly in the background, told me, "One of these days, you'll look back on this and laugh."  I've never laughed about it.  The most insulting thing that I heard leading up to my teenage years and 20s was that I was a 'clone of [her]'.  It pissed me off so much every single time I heard her say it.  She would say it wistfully, like she was reminded of a fond fucking memory when she didn't even know who the fuck I was.  Yeah great, I didn't like school.  That doesn't make me a 'clone' of you.  I was antisocial after a while.  Doesn't make me a 'clone' at all.  The only 'cloned' features were rooted in FUCKING DEPRESSION because that's what I had.


There weren't any happy memories at this point in my life, barring the 'Pinata Story' which I mine as well tell:  My sister wanted me, her, and her husband to go bowling and my brother-in-law always had handfuls of spare change in his pockets.  He went to bowl but his fingers got stuck in the ball hole and he went flying forward like a belly flop.  He landed on the lane so hard that all of the loose change in my pants exploded from his pockets and went flying across multiple lanes.


Another happy memory:  Romans.  My sister, ro, and myself went to a buffet.  Ro ate plate after plate after plate.  One plate was comprised of nothing but bacon smothered in thousand island dressing.  My throat gets tight even thinking of that combo.  I was telling my sister about roman vomitoriums.  As we were going to the car, Ro kept saying he didn't feel good.  My sister yelled at him, threatening that he 'better not vomit'.  Seconds later, out came all the bacon and dressing, to which I didn't look phased, turned to my sister, and said, 'Just like the Romans'.


So despite having Israel as a bestie during that time, it did nothing for me when it came to bullying.  I was ostracized by association by dealing with Quinn.  No one wanted to spend time with me, and in fact I was laughed at by people that I thought were supposed to be my friends.  I escaped for hours into videogames and binge-eating.  I loved videogames, so much that I invented a video game company called, 'The New Crew'.  Once I did this, some 'friends' wanted to join the company and had 'great ideas'.  Ideas like Joey's game, "Get Naked and Fight".  You see, it was Mortal Kombat only every character ripped off their clothes before the match started.  Joey, you fucking idiot.


In that 7 years, I almost never went to anyone's house (except once in a while Israel when him and his mom weren't fighting).  There was once when I went to Allen's place and Stephen got on a treadmill and Allen turned the speed up to 20 and Stephen went flying into the wall and was stuck, screaming to shut the treadmill off as he started getting friction burns from the tread.  I went to a breakfast with Allen and his grandmother smacked me in the back of the head because I was eating sugar cubes (I didn't eat eggs and that's literally all this breakfast place had).  I attempted to go to a halloween party that Joey had with a strobe light and all I could notice was everyone else was having fun and being spooked while I sat in the corner.  I also happened to see the movie 'Blue Streak' in theaters and it was really bad.  So despite knowing these 24 people for 7 years, that was every single out-of-school interaction I had with them.


I remember getting pegged in the nuts with a NERF Vortex.  I thought my mom got me a mouse for my birthday one year because it was sitting there in the living room and my mom freaked out.  I was happy - I wanted that mouse...  :unsure:


Yeah seriously, I've been writing down notes of any memory from this time period since before I started this challenge and this is everything.


I had two cats: Patch and Frisky.  Patch I didn't care much about because he was second and more of a stray that my sister liked and took in.  *My* cat was Frisky.  I remember the first day that Frisky was home - we didn't have any toys for her, so I took an old shoe I had and pulled the brown lace out of it and kept swinging it side to side as Frisky would nab at it and then cuddle.  This cat was everything to me.  I sure as hell wasn't able to be close to humans, so a fur baby was what I had.  I slept with a nightlight and Frisky would always come to bed.  Unlike most cats I've noticed who don't give a fuck about their owners, Frisky was glued to my side.  I would sleep on my back, legs slightly apart and she would curl up near my knees while I fell asleep.  I felt safe with that kitty around.


I ballooned up every year.  This wasn't a growth spurt: I was morbidly obese before I hit 4th grade and only climbed up and up.  The bullying never stopped.  Then one day in 8th grade, I learned that I could snap.


It was the middle of the day and we were packed in the auditorium for something stupid.  It might have been Alan Shawn Feinstein talking about his 'magic golden cahhhdz' for kids who do good deeds or whatever.  Quinn sat directly behind me and I told Allen that I couldn't deal with all the seat-kicking and hearing insults.  Allen and I went to the bathroom right near the auditorium.  My 8th grade teacher was Flanagan - he used to be a principal at a public school but now was teaching english and some other shit to us.  Looking back on it, I could tell that he wasn't like the prim and proper sheltered catholic teachers.  That same aloofness and obliviousness is what I get from my *current* teachers.  Anyways, Allen and I are in the bathroom and I'm talking to Allen by the sinks.  In walks Quinn, who walks by us and goes to the urinal.  He wasn't using it: he was listening in.  The sight of this fucking kid...something snapped in me.  My world went black.



I wake up and see Quinn lying on the floor.  I look at Allen, panicked.  Allen was white as a ghost as I asked what happened.  "You don't fucking know!?" he said.  I didn't.  "You shoulder-checked him into the wall and then he fell on his hands and knees.  You were punching him in the back.  You punched him in the back for every word you said."  I don't remember any of this.  What did I say?  "Stop *punch* being *punch* a *punch* piece *punch* of *punch* shit *punch*"  Thus, as Allen would refer to it later, the 'Drunken Baker Punch' was born.  It's just a hammerfist, where I swing down and hit with my pinky finger in a downward arc.


Now that I realized what I just did and beat the shit out of my tormentor of 7 years, Allen and I were both completely freaked out.  We walked out of the bathroom as calm as two terrified children could and continued at a brisk pace towards the far away 2nd entrance to the auditorium.  We were halfway down the hall when our teacher called down the hall, "HEY YOU TWO!"  We froze.  Then turned around slowly, stomach in knots, teeth clenched.  The teacher put his hand on the bathroom door with one hand and pointed to the door with the other, saying, "If I open this door right now, am I going to see Quinn laid out on the floor?"


I came so close to shitting my pants.


Allen and I shook our heads with a collective 'no'.  "Good" the teacher said, and walked away from the door and used the original entrance.  A couple months later, the rest of the class started to prank Quinn as well: having seen the years of him bullying me.  One day, Quinn's religion textbook was glued together.  It seemed that in the final couple of months, everyone else finally realized that the bully wasn't shielded any more.  With that, I ended up finishing 8th grade and starting public high school.  Violence isn't the answer? Fuck yeah it is.


Currently #3:


Today is day 3 of my whole30.  I'm. Always. HUNGRY.  What starts happening around now, is the gut bacteria are pissed at me for not fueling their sugar and carb energy sources.  Bacteria from the gut says, 'HEY, WE DON'T HAVE FUEL DOWN HERE!' and my stomach will growl and groan because it's a stomach and is a total idiot.  What my stomach and brain biologically don't know is that the 'bad' bacteria are now starving.  The bacteria that survive off fruits, vegetables, and protein are having a field day: eating, fucking, replicating.  It's a feast + famine situation going on in the depths of my body.  Although I have hunger pangs, I've also eaten only about an hour ago.  I have to fight off and ignore the signals that I'm getting from my brain/gut for now until Civil War happens.  That's the next phase coming up.  During the Gut Civil War, the healthy bacteria are multiplying like crazy and the unhealthy bacteria are dying off and their rotting corpses are littered through every inch of my intestines.  This creates a lot of bloating, where I feel fucking ginormous and like I'm going to explode.  Once I can get through that phase, my body starts working like it's supposed to.  Until then, I'll continue to have shitty sleep, low energy, brain fog, and more.  It gets really bad around this time.  I feel so run down at this point because my body isn't recognizing the healthy fuel as, well, fuel.  I was debating going to sleep around 2pm but I knew I needed to post.  I ended up eating another meal (some tomato mushroom chicken, carrots, and brussel sprouts) with a handful of cashews and lots of water.  I need water to flush all this upcoming garbage out of my system.  Another thing I noticed: I smell around this time because of whatever biological domino effect is happening in my innards.  I have to get through this part and then I'll start feeling better and it will get increasingly better for the next couple of weeks.  It's roughly like this:


Week 1 - Detox and want to die

Week 2 - Normalizing and functioning is starting to work

Week 3 - Become superhuman

Week 4 - Level off and be stable


I think of this like how it seems a vacuum works once you FINALLY empty out the filter.  Suddenly it starts working at maximum efficiency/capacity and you realize that the vacuum isn't broken: it just needed to get flushed out.  The same with a whole30.  I've been pushing around this half-dead machine and it's not working right at all.  After the Gut Civil War, the filter will be emptied and my body can do things like:

-Moving without being in extreme pain

-Being less winded

-Sleeping longer and having more restful sleep

-Feeling alert and coherent during the day

-Gradually getting hungry instead of instantly starving

-Feeling less depressed

And much much more.


The above are things you would say, 'yeah, duh, get 8 hours of sleep' or whatever, in much the same way you look at a vacuum and think, 'yeah, duh, it's supposed to suck everything up'.  This is why week 3, I start to feel superhuman.  Imagine being sleep-deprived for months and then getting one beautiful, magical full night's sleep.  It would make you feel almost manic with how much it rejuvenated your body.  That's what happens by about week 3.


In other news, I worked, walked, showered, ate whole30, finished the last of my shows to binge-watch, and have been writing for quite a while.  I'm thinking that I'll pick up my book to read tomorrow.


Lastly, JJ and I got into an argument last night.  I was reading an article and I was on the phone with her.  She seemed confused by what I was discussing and then said, "So then millennials won't work anymore and we'll have a vacuum."  This...is not what the article was saying at all. It was talking about how millennials have burnout because of societal constraints but are constantly berated for being lazy and not 'adulting' despite being conditioned to behave a certain min-max way.  After JJ said her piece, I went, "Uh, no, not really...." and started to explain.  She cut me off and told me that she hates it when I "do that".  Do what?  When I talk down to her like she's stupid. 


I think she has a half-truth here.  I don't think she's stupid: the problem is that I don't think she listens, compared with her not coming off like she's joking ever.  Apparently that above bit she said was a joke but it sure didn't sound like it.  She constantly doesn't listen to me.  Every other sentence I EVER say to her comes with a, "what?" because she wasn't paying attention.  She spaces out constantly.  It's not even like I left the room and came back and THEN got a "what?" It can happen while we are both sitting on the couch, multiple times within a few minutes.  Do you know how fucking aggravating that is to hear literally dozens of times every time I spend time with her?  It comes across like she's just oblivious.  So no, I don't think she's dumb: I think she's aloof and fucking around in fairy-land in her head.  When she said the above quote, it didn't come off as a joke: it came off as her being her usual 'I'm-never-paying-attention' self.  Pair this off with the fact that her own family will ask her questions, she'll answer, and then she will ask the same question back to them or not even recall answering them the first time.  It's like her brain is on fucking auto-pilot all the time and for the life of me, I can't understand why.  Conversations with her can be nice, or they can be a fucking mess where I get so frustrated that I become mute and don't bother saying anything to her.  It also doesn't help that I talk to myself a lot.  I talk at a lower volume when I'm debating something out loud.  A lot of times, she'll think I'm talking to her and yell "WHAT?" and then it breaks my own concentration and I have no idea what I was thinking about.  She's like a mind-derailer, constantly slamming the breaks on any communication with her or even with myself.  The barrage of WHATS isn't fun.



Apparently this made her feel like 'a worhtless piece of shit' when I correct her.  So I don't know what else do to but say I'm sorry and not talk to her.  Seriously, I'm damned if I talk to her because screaming, "FUCKING PAY ATTENTION THEN" isn't going to go over well if I went with that option.

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Sorry to hear about the carb flu your going through with your whole30. You’re doing aw some and sticking to it though.


JJ sounds like me when I had a vitamin deficiency. Brain fog, short term memory problems, and just auditory shutting off for randomly.


It’s good that you’re venting here. It’s a good place to get things off your chest and contemplate instead of constantly ruminate. Sorry to hear about all of that. Good to hear that you stood up to your bully. Hope you have some sweet fur babies to cuddle with.


Keep on keeping on Teros!

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Challenge #4:

Tires and the Warhammer. 


The main goals were the same: lose 100 pounds, work on pushups, train to eventually do a Spartan race.  The new goal was applying for school.  I didn't know where the hell I wanted to go.  I had already finished my psych degree and didn't know the best route to become a therapist.  I also remade the RPG Fanatics Guild which consisted of a big group of people.  I became friends with @ravnos and a host of others.

The Accountabillibuddy system I thought was good, but it had potential to be more.  I kept it going again and we had a pretty long thread.  I also had discovered my favorite sledgehammer-swinging song:



The timing between the *bang-bang-clap* is the right timing for doing warhammer reps.  I thought it was awesome.  I was feeling more and more like Thor or some other character.  My workouts were fun: they made me feel like I was a different person... the person that I wanted to be.  A snapshot of my workout:

On 9/27/2013 at 3:20 PM, Teros said:

25 x 2 Gravediggers

25 x 2 Butter Churn

25 x 2 Chop Wood

20 x 2 Killswitch

10 Tire ups                           (ok good start)

10 Very weighted crunches  (25 lbs. Nice)

10 Tire ups                           (Phew, all set)

10 Very weight crunches      (Going strong)

10 Tire Ups                           (wait what? how?)

10 Very Weighted Crunches (you insane?)

10 Tire Ups                           (HOW?)

10 Very Weighted Crunches (Am I a Beast?)


Something that I noticed about myself is if I set out to do 'the best workout ever', it feels like I'm obligated to do the workout and then I don't want to do it.  I need to trick myself into doing a workout.  By telling myself to 'just do ___' reps, I convince myself to start a tiny workout.  Once I'm there, my brain goes, "ok, how about doing one more?"  Before I know it, I end up doing a beast workout.  By making myself do babysteps, I end up getting more and more into the workout.  That's where I'm at right now:  I'm trying to stay consistent and go for walks and some some light weights.  I know that I'll get bored of those and as I lose weight, I'll get that "one more" itch and my workouts will explode.  It's a matter of staying the course right now as my eating levels off.






Who I am Entry #4:


By the time I finished 8th grade I was hovering around 240 pounds and almost at my max height of 5'8.  My face was covered in acne around the temples and because of how disgusted I was by it, I would continually scratch it; leaving permanent pock marks there.  (The pock mark on the tip of my nose was from the chicken pox when I was little.)  Around this time, I started to journal.  I had written a little previously to this, but I started putting more effort into my writing.  I would write about how lonely I was, how much I hated myself, and that I felt lost and confused all the time.  High school was a clean slate and would be the first time I was free from being bullied.  What seemed like a nightmare during grade school had finally ended.  I didn't have to go to church and eat the Eucharist (which made me gag literally every time).  I didn't have to wear an itchy uniform of tight gray dress pants, white button-up shirt, and a horrible dark dark blue itchy sweater.  I wasn't forced to mingle with the same.fucking.people.every.day.  It was a breath of fresh air, despite mentally me feeling broken and like a piece of shit.  I also ended up losing bestie #2, Israel, because he went to private high school as well.  We would talk on the phone but it wasn't the same at all.  A couple of my catholic school ended up in public high school with me, like Sonya and Jenna; but they had opposite schedules as me and I never ran into them. Most of the people from high school had known each other from catholic grade school - meaning that everyone had a safety net of people they could congregate with except me.  I was on my own in a school that was roughly 16 times bigger than my catholic school.


The first year or high school brought about my first real crush:  Sheena.  She was in a grade above me, with black hair that was dyed unnaturally blonde but her roots were still black.  She had a lot of dark brown lipstick on which, because she pressed her lips together, had that ring around the outside of her lips.   Caked on eye-liner.  She was a thicker girl but not obese: she didn't have any rolls.  She was about 2 inches taller than me.  We had art class together and I was smitten with her.  I didn't care that she was close with the 'hot girl' in school, Sarah.  Sarah didn't interest me, Sheena did.  I didn't know for the life of me how to talk to an attractive girl - I almost never made eye contact.  Eventually, Sheena saw that I was sweet and ended up sitting next to me at these big square tables that we had instead of desks.  I knew I was ugly and I started walking on a treadmill.  This is also around the time I tried the Atkins diet.  I remember eating cold baked chicken breast with microwaved kraft cheese singles on top.  I utterly hated it.  I couldn't cook and neither could my mom so I didn't know what to do.  It never occurred to me to talk to my sister about cooking. 


The happiest day in my life up to that point was the last day of class before Christmas break.  Since we were about to go on holiday, Sheena had worn all red and a santa hat.  I thought she was adorable.  Before we left class, Sheena gave me a hug and said, "Merry Christmas Mike".  I felt like I won the fucking lottery.  I did it! I got the girl!  At least that's how I felt in my head.  I was walking home from school that day, happy as a pig in shit when I finally got to the top of my street.  I heard a hoarse whisper from the bushes.  It was my next-door neighbor, Mr Shortman.  He was pulling weeds outside and he fell and couldn't get up.  He begged me to call for an ambulance.  No cell phone in existence here so I told him to hang on a second and I sprinted down the street.  I knocked on a neighbor's door and told them what happened and to call for help.  The rescue came in a few minutes.  I found out that if I hadn't heard that faint whisper coming from behind the bushes in Mr Shortman's back yard, he would have died there.  The next morning was the first day of vacation and I remember listening to Christmas music and lying in bed.  I felt like the hero.  In my mind, I saved a life and got the girl.  This...this is what Teros did.  This is what I always wanted to be like.  I remember thinking of Sheena dancing to Mariah Carey's 'All I want for Christmas is You'.  That song had such an impact that I can't listen to it today anymore because of how much it reminds me of that sort of nostalgic innocent youth.  I tried talking to her more and we even chatted on the phone a little bit at a time, but her dad was always listening and she had to go after a little bit.  Maybe she had an overprotective dad.  Maybe she didn't want to actually talk to me and was just being nice.  I didn't know. 


By this time, I had started reading as well.  Besides being a huge fan of the Monday Night Wars with WWF and WCW wrestling, I played a metric fuckton of games and read all of R.L. Stein's Goosebumps books.  I had every single one- the back shelf of my bed lined with the 100-some odd books.  I liked the monsters that were in the books, as when I was younger I would draw all sorts of demons and monsters during my video game company days.  This was also when my eating was ramped up even more.  Although I tried Atkins, it didn't work out.  I would yo-yo between trying to eat (what I perceived was) well and then binge-eating junk food.  These were the days when I would eat the family size Pilsbury chocolate chip cookie doll roll raw like a giant SlimJim, eat entire large pizzas from dominos with cinnasticks and all sorts of other crap.  I had no idea how calories worked: I thought that a 45 minute walk would erase the bags of candy that I was guzzling down.  I did push myself with the treadmill though.  Another mistake I made: pushing myself too hard to the point of injury.  I hated the fat on me and my walks turned into heaving a higher incline, walking with a weighted backpack, higher speeds, you name it.  I thought that doing this until my feet were raw and burning meant I was doing things right.  I, in essence, worked 'harder, not smarter' when it came to weightloss.  I think this is where a lot of people all into traps: thinking that jogging until your knees hurt or eating only spinach or whatever will fix things. People get impatient, like I was.  I remember that year hating myself so much that I drew a fucking diagram of my face, circled parts of it that I didn't like, and wrote why I hated it.  Circled my nose - too big and hated the pock mark.  Circled the temples - pock marks and acne everywhere.  Circled the top of my forehead - widow's peak super low and in the way. Circled my eye-brows - you get it.  A dozen features I hated about my face alone, nevermind the utter loathing I had for my bodyweight.


9th grade is also when I looked up this thing I didn't understand called 'porn'.  I had been conditioned in catholic school to hate sex and gay people.  It was so intense that my mom was taken aback when I told her 'all of them should burn in hell' when I was in 8th grade.  Luckily I grew out of that because I regained logic and sanity throughout highschool.  When being naive and searching the internet in the late 90s, you better believe it was an uncensored gold mine for porn.  However, I hated all of it.  If there was a naked guy, I instantly shut it off.  Because of this, I didn't know how sex *worked* exactly.  If there's no guy in any of the porn, there isn't any, uh, *thrusting*.  There was something that I really liked and that was bdsm dominatrix porn or lesbians.  Any time I watched something like this, the guy had his pants on.  I ended up going down a very deep hole *giggity* into the realm of bdsm.  People being used as chairs, toilets, beaten, etc.  I didn't *do* anything with myself.  I didn't know that was a thing.  I just would watch it for a couple of minutes until I was bored and then closed the video and continued playing games.  Nothing down there was registering.


Most of my classes felt like busywork - it wasn't often that I was challenged.  I had been forced to put more time into school as I went through gradeschool.  I remember back in 8th grade when I got a 76 on a vocab quiz and was brought into the principal's office to explain why my grade was so low - it was uncharacteristic of me by that time.  So when highschool came about, I thought maybe things would be a little different.  It wasn't - it was just triple the amount of homework.  It didn't feel like learning.  9th grade also was when I made friends with Larry.  He was a grade above but he was still in 9th grade english class.  At first, he thought I was a 'tool' because I talked to some other kid.  I didn't understand that social circles were a thing back then.  I mean, I had come from 7 years of the same 2 dozen people.  My high school was 400+ students, which is a social explosion for me. Larry and I became friends pretty quickly because of Starcraft.  I remember having to do 'journal entries' in that english class.  It was 5-10 minutes of free-form writing.  While other people seemed to struggle with this, I could write pages upon pages.  At the end of that year, a girl who I thought was adorable named Alexis left her journal on the last day on her desk.  I swiped it and her daily entries were 1 or 2 paragraphs.  It was awful. I distinctly remember how she wrote, "If I had one wish, it would be to have one child.  I wish for it to be a boy."  Most of her writing was intelligible.  That was the first time that I realized maybe I wasn't a complete fuck-up and that writing might be a serious outlet for me to explore.  I loved Alexis' name.  The very next year, my sister gets a stray black cat that's a fuzzball and they don't know what to name her.  I say 'Alexis' and it stick.


The class I hated the most can probably be guessed: Gym.  I always opted to play ping pong even though I was horrible at it.  I had no motivation to 'play' anything.  Like, the teacher is corralling 30 kids who are doing 2 or 3 sports simultaneously - it's not like he gives a shit.  You just need to put on your red/gray shorts and red/gray tshirt and so something stupid for an hour.  I loathed the locker room.  The boy's locker room was a small cramped area.  I wouldn't change with the rest of the boys - I was too ashamed and horrified to ever take any clothes off.  Instead, I changed in the adjacent hallway which had no lights on.  Me getting changed in the dark really quickly was a way better option than being in a room full of teen boys all joking around and shit.  I did this the entire time I was in high school, even despite the encounter with Lenny.  Lenny was a fit hispanic boy with an Enrique Inglacias mole on his face.  I did my usual changing routine: shorts off and new shorts slipped on, then t-shirt swap.  As I'm bending over to put my regular shorts into my backpack, I feel a hand slide across my lower back and then up my spine.  It was Lenny.  I had no idea what he was doing here and I became instantly uncomfortable.  It startled me.  I asked him what he was doing as I rushed to put my other shirt on.  He put his hand on the wall, leaning against it and said, "Oh I'm not doing anything.  Just watching you change."  There was this awkward silence and I told him I was 'all set'.  I mean, really, when you're a boy and some boy slides his hand on your back and wants to watch you undress, what the fuck are you supposed to do?  I didn't know.  I had asked him to please stop watching me as he stood there in the dark and said, "No one will believe you".  I wasn't sure what the hell kind of response that was back then.  I hurriedly  swapped shirts and he put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed.  Lenny sauntered away with a, 'see ya around' after I was dressed and putting my shoes on.  I would rush even faster than normal from then on to get dressed for gym, luckily avoiding him.


10th grade I had started to find a niche with a couple of people. I didn't really fit into a category.  I wasn't part of the freaks, geeks, popular ones, sports people, druggies, etc.  I was just...me.  At the start of the year, Patch died.  He wasn't old at all. My sister was eating a turkey club from D'Angelos when Patch started jumping a few feet in the air and then collapsed.  The vet said it was a heart attack.  My sister thinks that the sandwich is cursed and has never eaten it again.  I was depressed and when I was forced to speak in French class, I said that one of my cats had died.  A ditzy girl that was a year above me that was really pretty ended up taking my french quiz and kissing it, saying she was sorry.  It left a big lipstick kiss right near my grade.


I had tried to stay in touch with Sheena but she was always 'busy' or her dad was always listening.  It became more and more like a cop-out but I didn't know what to do.  I had dreamed about her.  Back in catholic school, we weren't told about the birds and the bees.  That lecture was about 45 seconds from my mom and I still didn't get it.  What's sperm again?  I didn't even know there was anything to do down there besides wash the damn thing.  I wasn't think about being with Sheena in a sexual way.  I just wanted to hug and hold her, to cuddle, maybe kiss.  It was really innocent and that's who I was at age 15.  Larry however, he was sort of a quasi-teacher without even knowing it.  I remember him telling me about he 'fingered some chick under the stairs'.  I asked him what that meant and he said putting a finger inside her.  I asked 'but...wouldn't you get like, shit on your hand?'.   The look on his face meant that I must be incredibly dumb.  That week, I found an anatomy book and it clicked.  Larry was in one of Sheena's classes and I started to beg him to swap notes between her and I.  I would meet him in the hall, hand him a handwritten note and then a couple days later when I ran into him, he would give me her note.  Eventually, her notes were less and less frequently.  I asked Larry what was wrong.  I didn't know what the hell girls were like.  He told me that she was talking to this tall dude and they were spending time together.  "So?!  Why does that matter?!" I thought.  I didn't know what sex really was outside of that odd explanation my mom gave me.  I didn't know it felt good.  I didn't know that people did it randomly, casually, rampantly to a degree.  Who cares if Sheena is spending time with some guy?  That doesn't nullify innocent snuggles in my mind.  I spent months trying to get her to talk to me and I didn't know what I was doing wrong.  Finally one day Larry tells me while we're playing videogames together that I should just stay away from Sheena.  I asked why.  He told me that she pinned him against the teacher's desk and told him about how she had a dream of him "fucking her brains out".  Larry wasn't interested in her at all, but Sheena made it very clear that she wanted to have sex with him.  I was furious.  Towards the end of the year, after about 2 months of Sheena not talking to me, I was walking outside from one class to the other and she was there, smoking with a couple of people.  I heard her call out my name.  A loud, "Hi MIKE!" and I was so angry, I kept walking.  I heard her yell my name again, and then again, and her voice trailed off as she went softer and softer.  I never looked in her direction as I went to class.  That was the last time I talked to her.


So ends 10th grade.


Currently #4:


I have binged a couple of shows on hulu and now I'm finished.  I decided last week that I wanted to learn an art so I used my Michael's giftcard and got an easel and some brushes.  I'm resolute in learning how to paint in the year 2019.  This is going to be part of every challenge after I finish this one.  There are a few seasons of Bob Ross on hulu and I wanted to get through all the shows I needed to pay attention to FIRST, and then my only option on hulu would be some crappy ghost adventurers or bob ross.  I don't know if I'm starting it yet, because I also have 2 books that I started and want to finish reading as well.  But gone are the days where I mindlessly binge on other shows.  I'm getting my life more organized.  Part of that is pushing JJ away after this argument.  It was something I knew I needed to do after the holidays and this seems like the perfect catalyst for it.  I'm going to go OUT with her: as in, rather than hang out for 5, 6, 10, 16 hours on the weekends and just loaf around with nothing to do, there is going to be a specific activity that we are meeting to do.  So when I meet up with her, it will be us going bowling together on a Thursday evening, or us doing a paint night, or going to play pool, or going to an arcade.  This is the dynamic that I need.  Hanging around makes me resentful.  I also hate that she has no motivation to go anywhere or do anything.  This boundary basically forces her to go out and do something fun.  Going out and playing pool means we AREN'T sitting there on the couch, bored, and then eating cookies and chugging khalua mudslides.  Pushing her away about 80% and having the remaining 20% be having fun as friends is the middle-step I need before ending things overall.  I want to set up boundaries and a precedent that we're NOT in a long-term relationship- we're just two people that care a lot about each other and are close.  This needs to happen.  As I've been going to therapy, it stirred up the pot of emotions.  Writing these posts has sort of set my mind correct and it's allowing me to process what has happened emotionally.  I'm in no condition to be in a relationship with any human being, even though a part of me desperately wants to be.  I need to be ok with being alone and focusing on myself first and foremost.

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2 hours ago, Teros said:

  I'm in no condition to be in a relationship with any human being, even though a part of me desperately wants to be.  I need to be ok with being alone and focusing on myself first and foremost.

I am so proud of you for typing that sentence.


i miss Ravnos.  I am all RPG nostalgic

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I had to stay up to read your thread. I had a few of those instances with my Mom. Hearing her talk about how she hates all men, Men are pigs, etc. Right when I was becoming a "man"  Shit can fuck with your head. I know the reasoning why my Mom had felt this way. She was getting cheated on. Plus She was in therapy and having to relive some really bad moments in her past. It made me see Therapy in a bad light. I probably should see someone myself.  There is other things I can relate to in your past too. 


I am glad to see you have been here and stuck with it all this time. I had left for a bit, but have stuck with it last year. 


It doesn't seem like it was all that long ago when we were all discussing ambassador duties, and trying to split up groups of people to check in on daily. :) I also use to think it was the coolest fucking thing to be using a sledge hammer to work out with. I looked at trying to find a tire to use, but never could get one.


7 hours ago, T2sarahconnor said:

I am so proud of you for typing that sentence.


i miss Ravnos.  I am all RPG nostalgic

I see him posting on Instagram from time to time :)


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