Now that I’m “only” twenty three and a half stone, I’m back to my 2014 weight. I’ve got rid of the weight of Vietnam.
Vietnam has a lot to offer, but I can’t say I liked my life there. People on the streets so frankly and openly mocked me for my weight that I withdrew. I started to avoid going outside. I started to turn on the lights a bit less, so I wouldn’t have to see myself, like I’ve always done in the worse times of my life.
And even when I moved away from Vietnam, I let that feeling stay. I stayed inside. I moved to a little village in Longford to be able to have the time and headspace to become a famous writer (I didn’t) but also it allowed me to continue to hide. And I did hide. I hid in my house and in my car. I avoided people for over a year.
And through my time in Vietnam and my time in Longford, I shrouded myself in weight. I went from swinging between 23 and 25 stone, to swinging between 26 and 29 stone. And I took comfort in my own immobile company.
And I shook that phase off. I came out of myself again slowly. I did it by doing things that scared me. By walking 708 km of the Camino. By walking out of a job in Dublin. By moving to a youth hostel in London. By letting men into my life.
But at 28 stone, I didn’t feel like scared Vietnamese/Longfordian Connor was gone. I lost weight last year, but couldn’t keep it off. This time is different. That weight is gone.
I’ve slain the Vietnamese dragon and I’m giving myself a body to fit the life I’m building for myself where I’m not afraid of the world.
I doubt myself all the time. I’m aiming to be a healthy weight, so I have another 12 stone to lose. I might not make it (though I hope I will) but I know I won’t ever be 28 stone again. This time is different.