To start appropriately, I’ll take you to a small town in Michigan. Known for it’s antiques, Williamston was your standard Farm-Suburbia home to around 10,000 people. We grew soy. We grew corn. We smoked wheat. Nutrition was a fancy word for failure.
There isn’t much to mention of my childhood but the fact I was awkward, overweight, insecure, and birthed into the world with a ticket booked for a place so strange I needed to blog about it to feel useful. Useful in a sense that you, or many others less fortunate than you, know exactly where I’m coming from.
My story is set in our country as follows– Michigan > California > Colorado > Michigan > Colorado. Searching for something I have now found here, tracking my journey is a monumental task.
Addiction runs through my whole family. Often, I visualize my Family Tree as a Christmas tree strung with red lights symbolizing our common dependence on anti-reality medication. Just as it does in my relatives, addiction runs through my veins and fills my pores as much as O2. Confused and afraid at a young age of 12, the monkey on my back seemed to be placed on me by default. My mother must have given birth to an odd twin and had no clue.
Among drugs and alcohol, food played a very big role in my downfall. My first memory was a Birthday cake. Even from age 4, I remember wanting more, and immediately seeking an escape by means of carbon-based human fuel.
Finding myself at a weight of 315# at the age of 16, my family’s physician informed me that I would be insulin dependent by the time I was 21. With no avail, my course remained the same. Slowly, I became more and more unacquainted with worry about my health or lifestyle.
Twisted, torn and on a downhill track ride, I never cared to take a look around me or make any outstanding changes. In every direction were people practicing their active addictions and ultimately having no clue where to begin putting their lives back into place. Classic projection. IamUareMe. We were all passengers on this bus that was moving quickly into a dark tunnel. Death, or completely losing myself was next to pass; with no A.C. or reading lights.
(Woke up in squat houses with different clothes, on different days, on different drugs than I started my week with)
Details can be masturbatory. I’ll paint pictures later. Now, the only thing for you to know is– life wasn’t working.
Choices seemed to always have been made for me. Even though I was in the driver’s seat for most of these experiences, I was wired in a self-destructive pattern that did not make sense from any objective point of view. Intimate rebellion soon came afterward in the form of playing Hardcore and Punk Rock music for years throughout Michigan. Seen as one of the most crass and useless forms of art, it quickly became my saving grace.
Punk Rockers skateboard. They just do. In the Summer of 2007, a good friend built me a deck and set me free on it. Within three weeks the bruises on my knees and elbows, a hospital visit for a dislocated shoulder and pebbles in my skin helped me lose 40 pounds in about 5 weeks. Hardly trying, I managed to wrangle attention from the opposite sex (a first for me) and gain more confidence in myself. It. Was. Electrifying.
In the middle of this personal transformation, my ego could still find no better opponent than my relationship with drugs and alcohol. With social pressure becoming more of a stress-bomb than a natural phenomenon, my reliance upon substances to ‘break the ice’ kept me freezing in the water. Cold and disconnected, my body improved, but it was gilded. My insides were decomposing. My motherboard was missing a relay. My capacitors were bloated and the diodes were no longer emitting light. My Hard Disks were not spinning. My hubs were no longer communicating with any peripherals. (0K I’11 sTOp)
You may know someone like me. As your experience might have taught you– chances of recovery in the world of addiction and alcoholism are slim– something like 2%. Holding onto that blessed time, even more so.
With the weight of my life bearing down, the thought of changing was always far from sight. Distance that inevitably brought more despair. Alone, afraid, still struggling with my health, I eventually gave up the fight. The numbers looked like this- 220# | (6) -12OZ beers | 0700hrs | (6) – 1oz whiskey = 4 sec of clarity.
With the white flag raised, I accepted the helpful hands around me. At this point I was in the court system, forced into addiction counseling, and ordered to attend 12 step groups. The depth of my condition was not apparent to me until this point. The potential fatality of which, even further away. With more and more honesty, answers started appearing and recovery took a hold. A new first memory was the beauty of the newfound wisdom surrounding me.
In recovery you learn to sit down and shut up. There are people that know you more than you know yourself. The most notable fact is, they also love you more than you love yourself.
While reclaiming most of my dreams in life. A new one developed. I found rock climbing while living in the desert of California. Taking weekend trips every Saturday and training in the gym got me hooked on this sport and took my heart to the canyons and spires of Colorado where I currently reside.
While suffering a back injury, my fight with food quickly became a savage beating. Without the ability to burn all the calories and utilize the high carb diet I was practicing, I quickly put on a lot of weight. Back in the warring hands of Big Pharma and Monsanto, I lost my mind. Moreover, I began to suffer a digestive problem that was painful and incredibly embarrassing. Everyday I would dread waking up. I would dread the day’s meals. My life became just as small as it did at the end of my drinking career.
Having your life taken away from you by substances is one thing, but having it taken away by food is another completely. This is supposed to bring me life. It sustains my being. Replenishing? Fresh? Delicious? This all tastes like pity and self-harm. As small of a life that eventually came of my drug use is nothing compared to the pain food addiction would eventually bring. At this point, I had found recovery from drugs and alcohol and still worked daily to save myself from my mind, but food was a whole different being entirely.
As poetic I want to make my entry into this lifestyle, in reality it was very human, and came out of desperation. My friends were climbing 5.12, woman weren’t giving me the time of day. Even my customers at work could smell my lack of confidence and would overt attention and their skin would crawl. I was unhappy and everyone knew it.
Finding myself in the same state of hopelessness that addiction made familiar, I started to emit a beacon of indigence.
I’ve been trying for years. I’ve lost over 100#. What was different then that has changed now? Am I weak willed? Do I need to train harder?
One thing about hindsight is you often see grace, over obstruction. three months before this bottom, I landed a job at an organic grocery store (yet to be named due to copyrights) in the Meat Department. Instantly I was surrounded by people that knew more than I did about animal protein, and the process that undergoes to get it to our plate. These men were such strong role models, both in character and application of natural knowledge. If you have ever had the pleasure of working with a product as pure as muscle, you can relate to this expression of primal necessity and the comfort of such an encompassing power. Protein. The building blocks of the universe. Encyclopedia Britannica has since then lost all value to me.
Working in this blood-muddy place with more variety of meat than the nauseating ‘Top-40,’I began to learn all kinds of product knowledge and facts about Chicken, Pork, Lamb, Veal, Bison, Beef, Turkey, and more. It was fascinating. Even more interesting is the fact that working in such a health-promoting environment did nothing to improve my steady weight gain.
I began to have favorite customers. People that were kind, patient, knowledge hungry (not physically hungry), healthy, and overall pleasant people to interact with.
Kinda like this
Group A: Depressed, anxious, entitled, elitist, angry, hostile – we get paid to deal with you
Group B: Respectful, patient, humble, courteous, appreciative – we will do anything to keep you around
Among Group B was a married couple.
Once a week, they would wait patiently for someone to help them. When I would approach them, they were engaging, fascinated by our product, and well versed when it came to nutrition. Not only were they great ambassadors for the human race, they were incredibly lean. And happy.
More and more, I began to look forward to seeing them. We became close friends.
At the lowest point of my battle with food, an inspiration came to ask them how they stayed so fit. They then happily explained their ancestral approach to diet- they avoided all processed food and recognized the agricultural revolution as being a marker for a slow decline in human evolution. My jaw dropped. I began to research feverishly. My life quickly changed into something I’ve been waiting to experience for years.
Paleo came to me like it would in a dream. The results were unavoidable and its kaleidoscopic integrity held true in every way I knew possible. My previous acquaintance with nutrition was immediately stumped. Nutrition, like everything, has completely new territory every waking day.
This website is inspired by the people in my life that have made positive changes to their life. It is my dream to develop a resource for anyone looking for different perspectives on anything relating to health, nutrition, fitness, and our food industry.
To achieve this, I want to continue to share my experiences with you and implore any who have the courage to do the same.
Common ground we all stand on is the only place we can communicate our ideas that help us shape our understanding.
What I will provide –
An interesting ‘From-the-Meat’s-Perspective.’ of our beloved Paleo diet. This will include pictures and bio’s of ‘Primals’ (Sections of animals uncut and untrimmed. Steaks before they are steaks). My goal is an article a week.
A database of knowledge concerning all sorts of cuts, roasts, bones, of all animal types.. This will take time.
What I would like from you –
Questions. Questions. Questions.
Personal Stories, Guest Blogs/Podcasts, Pictures, Videos, Recipes,
My main objective is service. To better arm you with a vocabulary and inside information that will help you communicate with Meatmen in your local butcher shop. This relationship between him/her and you is vital for you to have the best experience with a evolutionarily appropriate diet.
HELP ME OUT!