6 Month Re-Birth

There wasn’t a single defining moment that brought about the change. Instead, it was a series of moments, a pile-up of instances that, taken together, prodded me towards a different path. It might have been the struggle each morning to get my socks on, my body refusing to cooperate, having grown larger than I could manage. Or maybe it was the piercing back pain that paused my half-mile walk to the liquor store, compelling me to sit my fat ass down and rest.

Perhaps  it was seeing my body evolve in ways I didn’t recognize, observing fat deposit itself in spots I didn’t even know it could. But I suspect it wasn’t just physical discomfort that spurred my transformation.

The catalyst was more likely the whispered sympathy I overheard, the undercurrent of disappointment in conversations about me. The phrases “Vinny’s a good guy, but…” or “I love Vinny, but…” became the uncomfortable refrain of my life. The unspoken ‘but’ hanging in the air, casting a shadow over how others saw me and how I saw myself.

There’s something about being on the receiving end of pity that fuels a unique kind of frustration. That frustration lit a spark within me, ignited a fire of determination. It pushed away the dark clouds of despair that used to haunt my mornings.

No more was I willing to drift quietly into the shadows of death. I chose to fight back with every bit of strength I had. I pledged to give my all, each and every day, with an unwavering commitment of 100%. I woke up with a new resolve: I would no longer be the person others felt sorry for.

In that moment, the narrative of my life shifted dramatically, and I was the one holding the pen. The change in me wasn’t just significant—it was seismic. My story is still unfolding, and I am its author. It’s a fight, it’s a struggle, but it’s mine. And I won’t go down without a fight.