Just Carl

Irish. 24. Travel back and forth between Ireland and USA. Sometimes author, sometimes blogger, sometimes comedian, sometimes BBC employee, sometimes sleeping.

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That is all you *need* to know.  Below is a stupidly long short story about why I first started blogging about Health & Fitness… no need to read now, because I don’t blog about that anymore (much), but I don’t wanna take it down because it took so bloody long to type up!

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It should be noted that this used to be a Health & Fitness blog, hence the requirement to explain the following.

This is an unusual thing for me to post, since I haven’t spoken about most of this before… but here we go. Take note that this isn’t like anything I’ve posted before… this is probably more suited as a short story on a different site… but I’ve been asked numerous times to give my story, and this is how I’m most comfortable doing it.

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Up until the age of 10, there’s not a lot to mention. My friends were my classmates, and my life didn’t really go beyond school. Then, around that age begins my first retrospective realisation that something wasn’t right in me. I was tall for my age and my family joked about how all the food I ate went into height instead of width… I was a lanky fecker.

I remember my grandad and my uncle taking me to the local park where they introduced me to my first non-academic social scenario… football (Yes, America, I mean soccer). I was a very awkward and nervous kid who could never quite start a conversation with people, but thankfully that was not an issue because a couple of guys on the team were from my school, so they helped me get involved easily. Training was on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and I got on just fine with them… but then came match-day.

Every Saturday morning, my mam would have me up early, getting some breakfast into me before the big game. I’d be full of butterflies that never went away no matter how many times I played. I never got used to it… I felt like every game was a big deal, and nerves always got the best of me before-hand.

And this is exactly where we start to notice a problem. Before each game, on my short walk to the park, I’d start to heave in nervous anticipation, and at one point or another I was sure to throw up my breakfast, either in some bushes, or anywhere I could hide it from my friends. Every time I threw up, it felt awful, but unfortunately I started to notice how I was fine once I got it out of the way, so after a while I began to embrace throwing up my breakfast as “preparation”.

I knew this wasn’t “normal”, and my way of preventing it was to convince my mam I didn’t want breakfast, and to instead eat after football. Of course, she wasn’t having any of it. I guess there and then was a defining point for me in terms of health… if I told her about throwing up, things may have been different, but I instead kept it to myself, and so it continued… for a long time.

I cannot tell you how long it took for the next step to happen, nor can I tell you where I got the idea from… but at some point, possibly a few months after starting football, I decided the best way to avoid having my friends see me throw up was to throw up at home instead. This was never going to naturally happen, because the nerves I felt were kind of just “hanging out” in my stomach at home, and not until the walk towards the park or until moments before the game did they cause enough trouble to produce the sickness.

And this was the reason for the very first time I forced a finger down my throat in order to make myself throw up after I ate. This continued every Saturday morning for 4 or 5 years.

Side note: In absolutely no shape or form was I then aware of any world-wide issues regarding health-problems that this raises. I did not feel fat, I did not want to throw up, I did not enjoy this process. I did not have any idea that things like bulimia existed. This was me doing something I thought was helping me. No outside influences at all. I simply needed a means to avoid embarrassment and a means to allow me to play football without feeling ill. This was the only way my 10 year old brain could avoid these things.

Beyond feeling tired and weak during each game, I did not have any noticeable side-effects. In my mind… the idea of playing each game made me nervous, these nerves made me ill, I was taking control of the illness. It was all quite simple inside my head.

Then came “Secondary School” (for non-Irish, that’s school between the ages of c.12-18). On paper, I had every reason to be just as nervous as I was playing football. Entering a new school where everyone is older than you isn’t a unique experience, but we all know how insecurities arise when you’re in this situation. I was a tall gangly geek, top of my class, “class captain” (I can’t remember what this meant) and generally enjoyed academia. I was lucky though, because there was one other guy just like me, except I was good at sports, so he got all “that” negative attention. However, secondary school did bring along the next negative scenario… when I signed up for some Drama classes.

Once again, it was when I took a step outside my “comfort-zone” of school, that things started to go wrong. I must have been about 12 or 13 when this started. As I slowly weaned off football and enjoyed it simply as a lunch-time kick-about, I could have should have gotten away from that business of feeling the need to force myself to throw up, but that was not to be the case.

Day one of Drama: The nerves were there. But it wasn’t such a big “event”. It was just acting. Nothing at stake… no potential victory or defeat. Surely the nerves weren’t going to be as bad….

I show up in a school hall with maybe 40 people in it. One guy I recognise from my class. 3 other guys from older years… and a room full of giggling girls (I should mention that my school was split into three sections. Two “Junior” schools where the first 3 years were gender separated, and then “Senior” school where the final 3 years were mixed). Within minutes I’m standing on a stage with a couple of girls asked to act out a scene from a movie. We pick Titanic and I’m pretending to be at the front of the ship with Kate Winslet, played by a girl infinitely more confident than I am… we do “that scene” where I’m supposed to hold her while we lean over the front of the ship, all while the giggling gets louder. I think adrenaline allowed me to get through such a face-reddening moment, but as soon as we finished… as soon as I had a chance to think about what just happened… toilet… run… sick.

And that’s where the next phase started. Twice a week we’d meet up for classes, and dammit I wanted to do it… I wasn’t a great actor, but I bloody enjoyed it. And with each session came the nerves… and the throwing up. After a few weeks of it “just happening”, I got tired of having to run on mysterious trips to the bathroom because “I feel a nose-bleed coming” or whatever excuse I came up with when I felt sick… so I forced it up at home before-hand.

As we decided on doing plays and actually acting in theatres, the classes turned into auditions… then rehearsals… then as the plays drew closer, we were meeting up for 5 or 6 says a week and I never stopped feeling nervous… never stopped throwing up. I found myself attempting to avoid this by simply not eating in the first place. This obviously didn’t work well, and my folks stated noticing how pale and sick I looked.

Side note: In short, I had all the physical problems that come with being bulimic, or other eating disorders without actually having these disorders. I wasn’t binging on food beforehand to make myself ill… I wasn’t trying to lose weight… I didn’t hate my appearance or feel in any way hard-done-by by the world. I just felt nervous, and these nerves made me feel sick. I wanted control over my body, so I was making sure I was sick on my own terms. Or at least, that was my thinking at the time. Looking back, you can probably safely say it’s all down to some kind of “Social anxiety disorder“… but not exactly that.

This led to some doctor visits with my parents where I remained firm in keeping all of this a secret. Said visits did turn out useful, however, as we learned I had a high metabolism, which caused me to be thin anyway, even on a healthy diet, as a result of a “hyper-active thyroid gland” or some-such.

Time went by rather quickly while I continued to stick with the acting… maybe for another 3 or 4 years. I remember having to quit it around the age of 16 when I moved out of Dublin to Ashbourne. And I guess this move didn’t help either.

When I moved, I decided I didn’t want to change schools, so rather stupidly stuck with my old school by travelling up to 3 hours a day on no less than 4 buses. I basically spent my final 2 years of school exhausted… unhealthy… no time to eat properly.

This general area of my life is actually a lot less vivid than the rest. I genuinely believe these 2 years were spent in a near-zombie state, and my brain just simply wasn’t working right and therefore didn’t keep the memories like it should. All that’s important here is that my grades dropped severely in these 2 years and I went from a lifetime of being “top of my class” to being an average student in a very poor school. So all in all… a below-average student. I scraped through my final exams, was ill for half of them, and totally messed up any chance of getting the college place I wanted.

That summer changed a lot of things for me. No school, no football, no acting. Just me in what still felt like a new home after 2 years there… I ate well, regained my health, and applied for a scholarship thing where I could spend one year in what I call a “feeder college”, which would allow me to take some new exams as a means of getting into “proper college”.

Day one in this college literally fixed everything. The nerves/anxiety/etc were all there in the morning, so I didn’t eat breakfast. I showed up early where one other girl was there before me. We got talking about what we expected from the upcoming year and as others streamed into the class, there seemed to be this “recognition” that we were all there for similar reasons. Potentially good students who should have done well in school, but didn’t because of certain barriers that stopped them. And with that realisation, with that feeling of “hey, some of these people are just like me”, came an ease of mind that absolutely shattered the glass bubble around me that prevented any comfort for getting into my life in social situations outside of school. It was a small class of maybe 20 people in one room. A very intimate and comfortable academic situations. Perfect for me.

And the following year could not have been more successful, acing exams and coming out with a result that (as I keep reminding my friends) gave me the highest number of CAO points recorded in all of Ireland. (CAO is the Irish college boards means of calculating points earned in exams for judging who gets the best college places… kinda).

With that year done, I found myself in Trinity College, Ireland’s premier college studying Psychology and Philosophy. I immediately made friends, and after a week had applied to run for “Class Rep”, where I managed to get myself elected and actually become quite popular for once. I was a completely changed person, and never again did I feel any need to throw up as a result of social anxiety or anything like that. I was 100% clear of all that, and had no more health issues to worry about in college… or so I thought. (This is where I will add some dramatic music to the movie)

As is regular with college, nights out in bars and parties until sun-rise, or later…. staying in different campus houses every night after a gig, or staying up all night to start and finish an essay you had a month to do… I had a lot of sleepless nights. Nothing was thought of it, because we all did it.

However, after roughly half of the first year there passed, I noticed I wasn’t sleeping much at all, even when I was at home being a good little boy. Fatigue became an issue, and I was losing my appetite. I went to the doctor, where I was told it could be a mild case of insomnia… got some pills, sent home with a smile, carry on with your life, Carl, it’s no big deal. Well… it was. Sleeping pills did nothing. Restless nights in bed, tossing and turning was becoming a habit. Back to the doctor. More pills. These ones worked. Carry on.

Perhaps 2 months later, I found myself sleeping, but still fatigued. This would have been a few months before my first year exams, so it was very noticeable when I was unable to concentrate at all on my college work, but I tried to maintain face and joke about “partying too much” being the cause and continued to fulfill my Class Rep duties by continually planning more events… more parties… more day trips… more nights out. I was never one for drugs, but this was my addiction. Making people happy and have them thanking me for making their social lives fun gave me feelings beyond anything some “mere drugs” could give me. So I continued with it.

My frame of mind deteriorated more and more. To my friends, I was unsure what to say… so I just dramatized some non-events in my life and pretended these things were on my mind and making me distracted. I regret this decision more than most, but that’s for another story.

Health was becoming a huge concern as I continued with these patterns of not sleeping, or still feeling fatigued when I did sleep. Exams came again, and again I struggled. I actually ended up doing much better than expected in all but one exam, but college rules said I had to repeat all of the exams in that subject as a result. Fair enough rules were rules, I’d already passed these exams once, and I’ll have all summer to study. This wasn’t to be the case, as I grew weaker and weaker, poor appetite, little sleep, generally feeling down and under the weather. By the time summer ended and it was time for these exams, I was visiting my doctors regularly, passing out at times (well, not exactly passed out, but there was this “fuzzy” sensation where everything went white, I could not see, and had to sit down or have my legs buckle from beneath me, but it’s easier to say “pass out”). I showed up to the first exams anyway… felt dizzy, went to the bathroom, almost fainted again with the exact sensation just described. I told everyone this was the first time it happened, not letting people know how bad I was over the summer.

Anyway, with those exams missed and my health issues out in the open, friends started getting worried that my problems reached beyond some “light insomnia”. More doctor visits and tests ensued… but no answers. I was told to take a year “off books” from college, and just resit exams the following year, so that’s what I did.

There were some improvements, but no answers. I maintained regular contact with my college friends, and basically kept up with them in every way, with the exception of not having to go to lectures. I used my spare time to get myself some jobs, did a lot on the side, made a decent amount of cash, lived happily for a year without college and got myself my second girlfriend (we’ll ignore the first girlfriend, since that only leads to me bitching about her, totally not relevant to this particular story).

Things were looking up, and some progress was made with finding out what was wrong with me. Turns out Sleep Apnoea was the culprit being blamed on my condition. In short, this is when you stop breathing in your sleep. In essence, your body wakes you up so you can take a breath and gasp for air, and then you go back to sleep, completely unaware of what happened. So you can spend 8 hours in bed, thinking you’ve had a full sleep, when in reality, you were continually woken up consciously unawares to you, unable to get to those levels of sleep that re-energise your mind and body.

ANYWAY… this got worse before it got better. These particular months were quite surreal for me. With the lack of sleep and meds in my system, I was totally messed up. “Surreal” is the only way I can describe it. I was in clinics and hospitals quite a bit. Not only was becoming healthy again on my mind, but I also had college to think about, along with my girlfriend. Over a year after missing exams, I was about to miss them again because of my condition. I knew becoming well was my main priority, but I then had to choose between my relationship and going back to college. Being in hospitals and clinics most of the time meant my free time could either be spent studying, or hanging out with my girlfriend.

I made quite easily the worst decision of my life there and then, and chose to save the relationship. We started out as a very fun and active couple, but as my health suffered, so did our relationship. I knew I wasn’t the best of boyfriends, because I simply wasn’t able to take her places and to do the things I wanted to do. She said she was fine with it, and knew it was all down to health and wasn’t in my hands… so we pushed through. Everything was going fine, I was feeling better and doctors were becoming more positive. I was able to work again, secretly saved up some money and booked a lovely little cabin in the mountains of Scotland for the 2 of us as a way of thanking her for sticking by me while i was unwell. I was well again, physically and mentally. I was fine with having to wait another couple of years before college. I was happy with health and a good relationship. College seemed material to me… this was “real happiness”… not some boring social norm of “having to study to get a job to make you happy”. I was beating The Man!

I was waiting to surprise her with the trip until they got back to me to confirm. I met her on a Saturday and went to the beach. Went home that night and told her I’d call her on the Monday, knowing they’d have rang me to confirm the booking by then, but alas, they didn’t… so I waited. I get a phone call on the Wednesday, so I answer, presuming it was the confirmation I had been waiting for. But nope, it was the girlfriend… and to cut a looong conversation short, I was told how she “wasn’t really happy with the health situation because didn’t see each other enough… wanted to go out more… etc”. Despite explaining how all my health issues were gone, and telling her about the booking in Scotland… she wasn’t having any of it. We were done. I had just given up a place in college and spent all of my money because of her… and that hurt… hard. I was very much over her after a few days because of the way she acted, but also very much angry at myself because of the decisions I made… and almost felt worthless after that phone conversation. After working so hard on getting well and making money as quick as I could to thank her properly… being dumped over the phone just made me feel pathetic and worthless… like I was willing to sacrifice college and every second of my spare time for her, yet all she could do was make a phone call like that (yes, yes, “Dramatic Carl is Dramatic”… hush).

So I sulked and stayed angry at myself for about a month, until the Carl that stands before you was born! (Cue the uplifting “ta-da” music)

I needed to prove to myself that I wasn’t worthless. I needed to get back to that young me who was top of his class… who was successful at all the things he did, no matter how insignificant they were. So I looked at my strengths… what did I do best? Class Rep! All those parties and events I’ve planned and created from nothing… they made people happy… I enjoyed them… so low and behold, my very own “Party Planning and Events Management” business was born.

21st birthday parties, office Christmas parties, nights out for locals, you name the event, I planned/organised/arranged/ran it…. working my ass off until I was making some serious cash. From October to January, I made high 5 digit sums of cash from absolutely nothing. But that wasn’t enough… I need to do more… see more. So off I went with a pocket full of money to explore Europe… Iceland, Austria, France, Scotland, Wales… cruised from Barcelona to Texas, then toured the east Coast of America, taking in Texas, Chicago, New York, DC, Boston, Maine…

This is where I need to take a break from the successful parts and take us back to just before the trip to America when another diagnosis was made. I really only added the above paragraph to make this story less depressing. Although I am very proud of it… so maybe I’m just showing off?

As already mentioned… I have a “hyper-active thyroid” which made my metabolism sky high, which basically kept me thin, no matter how much I ate. While being examined for my various problems, it was noticed how I had other glands that were being over-worked too. I’m going to ignore the sciencey bit and simply say that it was found that all of these problem-glands were connected to one thing; My pituitary gland (which is in the brain, for those of you asking). It was decided that there were “abnormalities” that required an operation. Again, skipping the sciencey bits, mainly because I’m not 100% certain I’ll explain it right, but you can just take it for granted that an operation was needed.

So I got back from the states, it’s now roughly 15months since I became well and single again… and a run of good form is put to a halt by a letter from a hospital saying it was time for my operation. So that’s it… “Minor Brain Surgery” ahoy! They always stressed the word “minor”… I didn’t.

They did what they had to do… blah blah sciencey things, and presto! I’m fixed! No more health worries… it’s January 2010 and you have the rest of your life ahead of you to no longer worry about these things!

Oh except for the whole thing when your memories disappear and you wake up post-op with no knowledge of your friends or family.

Apparently, not just the brain surgery, but the anesthesia used in the surgery can result in “temporary” memory loss. And of course, it got me.

It was only a matter of hours before I started to remember family etc, so that was good. However, as I left hospital and tried to become integrated back into my old life, it become clearer each day that memories were missing. People were saying hi to me and trying to chat with me… I had no idea who they were. Then a couple of days later I’d wake up thinking “oh my god, I was in school with him for 8 years!”.

What struck me most was how happy I was when I remembered my family. Because that was pretty much all I had inside my head. I didn’t remember previous health problems, I didn’t remember making myself throw up, I didn’t remember ex girlfriends, I didn’t have any negativity in my life for the first time ever. And that’s something I want back.

And this is where we finally get conclusive answer to “What do you want from all of this?”

Now that (I think) all my memories are back and (I think) I’m perfectly healthy at last, I really need to make sure I don’t let these things run how I live my life. That sense of failure that came with bad health, bad break-ups, my inability to be social without throwing up, and everything else mentioned above was something that really had a grasp on my actions. When I created my business and went travelling, my reasons for doing so were negative ones… and that always tainted these things, that really should have been positive times for me.

But now that I’ve experienced that very unique feeling of absolute bliss and a lack of worry, I want to find a way to get that back. I know I’ll never lose those negative memories, and I know the bad health will always be a part of what shaped me into who I am… but for the first time in my life I am able to look at those experiences positively and use them to encourage good health, positive thinking, and living a generally sweet life.

Never again am I going to be weak enough to fall into the same holes I was in before. I am going to be as fit as my body allows… as positive as my brain allows, and most importantly as adventurous as both of them allow.

And while doing that, I want to share what I’m doing. I want to see people react positively to what I do. I want people to join in. I want others to benefit. I want to learn from other similar experiences. I want to learn from absolutely different experiences. I want to offer my experiences in exchange. I want as much info on health as I can get. I want to turn exercise and fitness into charity work in order to help ANYONE with eating disorders, health issues of any nature, any ailments that cause people to not fulfill their life goals. I want to live. And I want to document life.

That is why I’m here… and that is why I do what I do.

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16. bikinisummer said: Thanks for the novel Carl :P it was awesome to read. You’re definitely good with words. So good infact that I just read that entire thing on my iPhone haha. I think it’s wonderful what you’re doing. Thanks for being you! <3 xox Summer
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20. trackmyfit said: I’m sorry you had to go through all that, Carl. :(
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24. allimuffin said: Thank you so much for sharing! I am going through a tough time, and it is inspiring & encouraging to hear about other people’s journeys. Best of luck, and continue to tumbl!
25. jenngetsfit said: wow. Thank you so much for sharing your story with us. I’m glad you came out of all of this with such a positive attitude. Can’t wait to see even more of your life documented!
26. bluezfire said: What an amazing story to share with all of us. Thank you so much. And congratulations in all that you have endured, accomplished, and continue to share with others.
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31. ahealthyhappyme said: On my lunch break, saw the post, read it and all I can say is wow…I mean Carl. You would never think any of this happened. Thank you for sharing this and for what you are trying to do. Such a positive and inspirational person. Just amazing. ~C
32. theweightofmylife said: That was an awesome read, Carl. I could relate to certain parts but definitely not all. But I can tell you one thing, no matter how shit you went through, you can be in a state of joy and happiness even with a “bad past”. Living proof right here! <3
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36. smaller-n-smaller said: Saying wow seems like an understatement…but I can’t think of anything else to say…
37. carlconnor posted this