The Weight I Carried And Life I Gained

I understand the topic of wellness has been emphasized a lot in 911. In fact, recently I have even had some conversations with colleagues who are simply tired of talking about it. But my personal path has led me to appreciate the multifaceted journey of prioritizing wellness. Without question, I’ve learned it is critical to care for ourselves when we devote so much effort to caring for others.

To reframe this concept, I’d like to put all professional hype aside and offer you the perspective of a (formerly) fat kid from Indiana who felt unbelievably lucky to make a difference in the public safety world—so much so that he lost himself in it.

Having first served my “year-long sentence” working in the jail, I began taking emergency calls with about as much training as a hamburger flipper. I had a seat, a phone, a radio, and the instruction not to mess it up. The question for the ages is how I am still in the 911 profession 31 years later.

Though I found a true passion in my growing career, I began collecting burdens I didn’t process. My mind wasn’t consciously keeping track, but my body was. I carried the weight of my job—literally and figuratively. In fact, at my peak, I weighed 425 pounds. I was constantly sick, fatigued, and struggling with pain even getting out of bed.

Diets, fitness apps, professional coaching—none of them worked. Why? Because I wasn’t actually ready for a change.

In 2022, the devastating realization of my situation came to a head. I traveled to Washington, D.C., and I had a heart-to-heart with a friend who said, “This is not going to work. You can’t walk 100 feet without stopping and resting. That is not what we do.”

His voice wasn’t the only one urging me. In January 2023, my body hit its limit. With a hip crying for help, I met another brutal reality. My nurse practitioner’s words hit me like a brick: “You need to change something, or you are not going to be here.”

When the pain of your current reality becomes greater than the fear of change, that is when you act.

My resulting shift included multiple doctor visits, a tonsillectomy, a hip replacement, a new medication routine, and a total reformation of habits. But before that battle could happen, I had to unearth the mental root beneath it all.

Friends, family, and a good therapist helped me sort out the mental work that had to be done before the physical journey, a transformation of both mind and body.

Instead of seeing weight loss and health improvement as a shame-filled punishment or an impossible goal, I started focusing on small, achievable goals I could implement consistently, leading to long-term results. I was encouraged by James Clear’s idea from his book Atomic Habits that cumulative one percent improvement is exponentially more effective over time than short bursts of major effort.

I discovered my discipline is stronger than my motivation. Even today, I never really want to wait outside the gym for it to open at 5:30 a.m., but I rely on the discipline of everyday decisions and momentum to keep me going.

It has come down to the phrase “The happiness you seek is in the work you’re avoiding.” Now I am learning to celebrate small victories like walking a little farther each day, making healthier food choices, and most importantly, giving myself grace when things don’t go perfectly.

At 54 years old, I have now lost over 200 pounds and probably added 10 or 15 years (hopefully) to my life, showing it is never too late to get started. After an entire career of carrying heavy burdens, now I am finding great strides can begin with me.

The same is true of each of us who are dedicated to making a difference in the world. Choosing our own wellness as a priority can help extend the impact we make. It just takes a large commitment to small improvements in ourselves. Every day.