Sometimes, you must try and remember to consider your life from a clear and healthy perspective, with the correct balance of detachment, rationality and romanticism. Earlier this week, on Friday evening, I was lying in bed in a fervent state of melancholy, bemoaning the state of my body, and how I’ve left it to become so flabby and unattractive. From there, it is a rapid and almost unavoidable spiral downwards into a pattern of self-admonishment so harsh and unnecessary that I become my own worst enemy.
But why? My life has never been better! I am enjoying my job, I have strengthened healthy habits in every other area of my life (gluttony seems to be the one sin I cannot avoid), I have a refreshed vigour and passion for the things I enjoy in life, and so on and so forth. I am even courting someone that I quite enjoy spending time with and, somehow, they seem to enjoy spending time with me too!
Allow me, if you will, to walk you through my week, which has been quite a typical week really. On Tuesday evening, my friend Jack came over for a cup of tea. We booked a trip to Paris in July to visit the David Hockney exhibit at the Fondation Louis Vuitton, and we played four games of Chess, of which I won three (ha!). On Wednesday evening, I went for dinner at The Waterfront at Barton Marina with Mr Samuel Morris, my oldest and dearest friend, and his partner Elleanor. I don’t spend time with Sam anywhere near as often as I once did, so it was a real joy to catch up, and I couldn’t help but smile to myself as I realised he’s moving to a different stage of his life, buying a house with Elleanor and beginning to think of marriage and children, and yet he still wants me to be a part of it, for which I am very grateful.
On Thursday evening, I had dinner at The Dragon in Willington with my darling mother Hayley. They had produced a six-course menu which I simply could not miss out on, so I had the full line-up; the rump, which was a roast beef and horseradish tart with crispy onion; the oxtail, served in a French onion broth with Gruyère and thyme; the short rib, which came with truffled mac and cheese; the sirloin, a 30-day dry-aged cut with a stuffed mushroom and sauce Dianne; the fillet, a Derbyshire-sourced cut with creamed potatoes and Bourguignon jus; and to finish, the cheese plate. It was, quite simply, heavenly, and possibly the nicest and most delectable dining experience I’ve ever had. I dare say that if I had the option to be thin or to be gluttonous, I would choose gluttony every time if it meant I could continue to enjoy such wonders.
On Friday morning, I read The Times in bed, before getting up, getting ready and heading to Waitrose in Uttoxeter to do my weekly shop. After that I walked Forest, had some lunch, and spent the afternoon reading. I then had my slump in the evening, but it lasted only a few hours before I was back in high spirits. Yesterday morning, my aforementioned friend Jack brought me a coffee from Starbucks (largely as an excuse to show me his new car), and we walked Forest together. After that, I met with the man I’ve been courting, Carl, and we had a somewhat random day together; we went to an Antiques Fair, we went for a pub lunch, we went to Costco, and then we did an Escape Room with my Mum and her partner Donna, before retiring to my room to watch The Masters, which didn’t bring quite as much excitement for Carl as it did for me. Then, this morning, I read The Sunday Times in bed whilst he watched TikToks (I hear they say that opposites attract), before we walked the dogs together and parted ways.
A wonderful week, wouldn’t you agree? The only snag came when I completely forgot about my therapy appointment, which was supposed to take place at Friday lunchtime. I emailed to apologise profusely, and my therapist politely agreed to pretend it never happened, but I was still annoyed at myself for forgetting. That’s right – in a completely unsurprising turn of events, I’ve been seeing a new therapist recently. His name is Will, he’s a few years younger than me (which is slightly disorienting) and, all things considered, he is a lovely chap. We get on really well, and I’m actually really enjoying our sessions, although I suspect that’s largely because they usually run for about two hours (the standard slot is 45-50 minutes), as we always seem to end up discussing something like the works of Alain de Botton or the misguidedness of nihilism, rather than my inability to properly manage my own personal affairs. A young man with a penchant for philosophy and examining the inner thoughts of distressed people – I assume I need not point out his appeal?
In our most recent session, we had something akin to a breakthrough when discussing The Midwit Meme (TMM). For those of you who aren’t familiar, I shall enclose the definition below, along with one of my favourite examples:
A satirical internet meme illustrating the idea that people of average or ‘mid-level’ intelligence tend to overcomplicate simple matters, whereas both beginners and experts often arrive at the same, straightforward conclusion. In this context, it represents the trap of overthinking or over-efforting – becoming stuck in the middle tier of understanding or effectiveness because of trying too hard to intellectualise or optimise something that ultimately requires simplicity.
As anyone who knows me well will attest, I am very confident in my own intellectual ability, so it came as something of a shock when Will gleefully informed me that I was sitting right in the centre of TMM. Well, I say something of a shock – if I were to repeat my immediate response here, it would be incomprehensible through the number of words I’d have to **** ****** ***. However, as he went on to explain, I reluctantly realised that he was right.
As I’ve touched on above, by the time I reached the beginning of my twenty sixth year on earth earlier this year, I was sitting quite comfortably in the right-hand segment of TMM in almost every area of my life. It had taken a lot of hard work, thousands of pounds on therapy and countless mental breakdowns, but in much of my life I had found the key to success, which, as TMM correctly suggests, is simplicity. I’ll summarise below;
- To keep energy levels high, get enough sleep and exercise regularly
- To enjoy reading and writing, only do so when you feel like it
- To maintain your friendships, make sure to be kind and generous to your friends
- To enjoy your work, find a job where you enjoy what you do day-to-day
- To be happy with who you are, be honest with yourself and others
I could go on, but you get the point, and hopefully you can see how this translates to TMM. Just in case you are too dumb to understand, I shall spell it out for you – I spent years in the centre of TMM, trying extremely hard to figure out the meaning of it all and unlock the key to a happy life, only to realise that all it takes is to live as simplistic a life as possible.
However, I am currently in therapy with Will because he specialises in eating disorders, and unfortunately, I appear to have one – the disorder being that I can’t stop. I am now the heaviest I have ever been, and my eating patterns are, shall we say, dysregulated at best. I joke about it, because I joke about everything, but it is actually extremely distressing, and it is now at the point where it’s becoming almost debilitating, simply because I cannot think about anything else except my weight, and the shame I feel because of how high I’ve let it get.
These were the thoughts racing through my head on Friday evening, and this is the reason Will placed me, not incorrectly, smack bang in the middle of TMM. I have tried absolutely everything to get my weight back down – intermittent fasting, calorie counting, cardio and strength exercises, cutting out ultra-processed food, cutting out fatty foods, drinking more water, eating more protein, and so on and so forth – but the point is, none of it has worked, and there is a simple reason why none of it has worked – I am overcomplicating it and putting an insanely unhealthy amount of pressure on myself.
So, although I am far better than I once was, I am still very much a work in progress, with plenty of work to do. Nonetheless, I am happy with who I am and what I’m doing, and I am confident that things will continue to get better in all areas of myself – two statements that would have been unthinkable a few years ago. A timely reminder, perhaps, that all it takes to rescue yourself from the self-imposed doldrums is a little change in perspective.
Am I fat? Yes. Am I also blessed with good health, family and friends that care about me, hobbies that inspire passion and joy, a job that I enjoy, the means to live a comfortable life and go on regular adventures and holidays, a gentleman that wishes to spend time with me, and an ability to keep things in perspective when the downward spiral into the doldrums becomes irresistibly seductive? Yes. I am.
