They say that the night is the darkest before the dawn. Let me be honest here. Brutally honest. When my dad got sick, I was riding the high waves of health… but, tides do crash to the shore. And the the crash was the loss of my dad.
Loss is a black hole. It consumes you. Some losses, like the one of a grandparent, are easier to cope. You know that they are old. My father? He went to the hospital, smiling, saying – “I will be back, baby”. And came back in a coma. 63 is not the age to die.
My routine was blown to smithereens. My inner demons of anxiety and panic took the wheel while I was processing everything – from his smile while going to the hospital to his return in a coma. I am 27! Twenty-seven!
I know that many people have lost parents at a younger age, have been raised by a single parent, or have seen one parent turn their back and never return. I don’t and never will discount their experiences. But when a robust support system around you shatters… you want support. You are anxious for it. Desperate, even.
I turned to the one that unfortunately was my anchor during university – when I was surrounded by people of equal calibre, where I understood what rigours of academics truly meant – I turned to bingeing. I don’t purge – Or would not have been writing about weight loss. But, people if you do, please, I appeal to you, go to a medical professional for guidance and therapy.
Now, I gained back 4 kilos. Am I ashamed? Both yes, and no. Yes, because… I worked so hard to lose them. No, because, loss is not easy to face.
Today, for the first time in three months. I don’t feel like eating junk. And I was like… wow! I feel like I am waking up from a torpor. A deep sleep. My dad, even in the hospital used to tell me – Go to the gym… and then come visit.
I just called my trainer, again. To tell him – Monday – keep my regular slot open. I am back.
Will it be easy? No. Am I ready? Yes.
I am back.
My progress was not erased. I just took a brief detour.
The Scientist's Corner 
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