Ever since I was a small child, I recall always feeling inadequate, ugly, weak and unworthy. This translated to lots of bullying in school and very few friends. The kids called me "the ugly fat cow." Anytime I would walk by or get in the bus they would start "mooo, mooo, mooo." I am going to give you my BS story here. So if you are not prepared for some truth, then don't read this. It is high time for many to wake the heck up and start to take action in the area of health.

There is no nobility in killing yourself with food. Food addiction (and all addictions) are an abomination to our dignity as human beings. And you have a duty to face it and overcome it. So if you are "comfortable" in your crap and are not willing to take action, then you may have to face uneeded (and very painful) consequences. But if you think that maybe your time has arrived; that you have suffered enough that are "sick and tired of being sick and tired," then read on. This is real stuff. And many out there are suffering. Maybe even you.

Back to little Robert, the fat, dumpy "dark-skinned" ugly duckling. You know how tough kids can be. I was terrified to go to school. My mother - God bless her precious heart - worked hard to raise and support me, but it was very hard as she was alone. I know that the pain and misery that I put her through was great; and her love and constant faith in me is, undoubtedly, the only reason why I'm still alive.

My father was a very famous Latin American singer in the 1960s and 70s and I guess he was too busy with his fame to care much about me. So he left us when I was very young. I was always in emotional pain. Food gave me the hiding place and "medication" that I needed. Anytime that my heart started to ache, I would "eat" myself better. And all of this was seen as normal because, in the Latin culture, food is king. Since my parents were in entertainment, it was not unusual for me to wake up in the middle of the night to a party going on with trays and trays and trays of food and booze all over the place. 

I recall that for a great part of my childhood my grandfather ran a little shop from the house. Kids would come up to the kitchen window and order candy, sodas and fried goodies. Needless to say, I ravaged the candy when noone was looking. It was not unusual for my grandparents to find tons of candy wrappers under my bed. "You're eating my profits!" grandpa would shout. I could not stop. I was not even ten years old and already was a food addict. A ten-year-old kid who felt inferior, ugly and "less than" everyone else.

My mother went on to remarry, but the father image that I longed for did not materialize. In fact, there were periods of mental and even physical abuse. I recall being mocked many times by my stepfather because "I had nicer breasts than some women."  He was a bit nicer when he was drunk, but not much.  I retreated further into my shell.

Girls did not like me, I had no friends and became a total outcast. This went on through high school. There was a children's game that came out at the time called "Hungry Hippos." When I got off the bus at school in the morning, I would be greeted by the bullies singing the Hungry Hippos song in unison. This went on every day all year long. Nobody knew my real name. I was Hungry Hippo... period. I tried to laugh it off and play it as if it didn't bother me. Inside my heart, however, I was devastated and torn.  Food and alcohol took over, and I lost touch with all reality as my life plunged into an abbyss that would consume me for 25 years.

Many other things happened and for a period of time I lost a lot of weight. It was mostly due to my huge love for Rocky and Sylvester Stallone. Stallone was my idol back then, and he was my "father" and everything that I wanted to be. So I did lose a lot of weight and even managed to strike up a few dates. :-) But that did not last and my binging eventually led me to regain all of the weight.

By this time I was in my late teens and had gone off to Los Angeles to be on my own. I was certain that I could get into acting and/or music... and for a short period of time I was actually making progress. I did a lot of work as an extra, including the movie Lethal Weapon in 1987. I actually had some talent and seemed to be making progress. My musical talent also came out during that time.   I played in numerous rock bands. Like they said in the movie Goodfellas - "It was a glorious time."

I met and hung out with a lot of celebrities (Slash and Axl Rose from Guns N' Roses were my favorites), had hair down to my waist, rode a motorcycle and felt like I was on my way to doing something positive with my life, especially in music as a singer, guitarist and composer. A reputable acting agent even picked me up for representation and I came close to landing a role in Miami Vice. BUT, the food addiction and binging had other plans, and they had nothing to do with success or positivity.

Increased alcohol consumption led to weight gain which led to demoralization which led to a full-blown relapse into binging. This time, however, I was going straight to hell. By the time my stint in Los Angeles was over, I had given up on music, acting and just stayed in my tiny apartment in Santa Monica Boulevard eating, eating, getting drunk and chain smoking with a gun by my side. I cannot recall many details, but I placed the barrell of that gun in my mouth many times. And so the pizza boxes would pile up in the apartment, along with the empty beer and whiskey bottles.

Sometimes I ran out money and would call the pizza man and then beg him to give me the pie and that I would pay later. I was blacklisted by pizza delivery restaurants within a ten-mile radius. lol I could go on and on. "I'm sorry sir but we do not deliver to this address," was common.

Over the following years I was lucky enough to start a journalism career in San Juan, Puerto Rico which is where my mother is from. I can only say it was a "God" thing because one day I was working out in the sun mixing cement and the next day I was in an office writing business stories. I was taken there. I don't recall having the ambition, energy or vision to do so. I know that God was nudging me to something that I could actually do well. But, again, the addiction had other plans.

Things went really well and I seemed to have found my niche as a writer, which apparently I did fairly well. But that feeling of "not being good enough" was always there. Anytime something good happened in my career (awards, raises, praise from colleagues), I would minimize it and set out to prove everyone wrong. I would slide into a binge and disappear from sight. I would lock myself in my apartment to drink and eat and simply not show up to work.

My bottom was me not bathing, shaving or changing clothes for weeks, sometimes months at a time. I would spend weeks alone in my apartment living off of pizza, cheeseburgers and Chinese food delivery. I would order an Xtra large pizza every day and eat it in its entirety, as well as liters and liters of soda. I would hide food all over the house, especially cheeseburgers and pizza slices. I lived alone, but I felt the need to hide food anyways. After eating an entire large pizza by myself I would cut up the boxes and stash them in the back of the close, as if to keep myself from seeing it again.

"Sometimes I would get so sick that I would actually vomit all over myself while gorging. I did not care. I would just continue to eat. Wouldn't even change my shirt. In my mind, I was garbage and did not deserve even the slightest of human dignities. So the hell with it. Let the devil have my soul. I am going to end my life and spit on God's face for allowing me to suffer like this."

 
How can a human being sink so low? My only exposure with the outside world was my daily trips to Dunkin Donuts to buy a dozen pack and some apple fritters. I wore only black oversized clothing, most of which was badly stained by icing and grease from the pizza and Chinese food. I was the 'man in black.' Walking death... Isolated from the world; did not want to talk or see anybody. I just wanted to eat, smoke and drink.

Black shorts or sweatpants and a black t-shirt. That was my uniform. Several times I came very close to suicide and was actually carrying it out when "something" would stop me. The only thing that held me back was knowing the horrible pain that would cause for my precious mother. Suicide, I know today, is the most cowardly thing a human being can do, and also the most self-centered. It was all about me, me and me. I was an ego-maniac with an inferiority complex. Suicide is NEVER the answer. And I am proof that this is true.

Eventually I lost my journalism career, my home, my fiancee and ended up living in rescue missions, christian homes and anywhere that I could crash. I smoked two packs a day of Marlboro Reds and was drinking heavily as well as binging nonstop. A few times I woke up in trash cans sorrounded by flies and trash, covered with vomit and urine.

My mother was the only one that could stand me. I was obese, dirty, smelly and lost in chronic depression, bitterness and hatred. I was dead in life. Many well-intentioned men tried to help me, but I was unwilling to listen or have any type of accountability in my life. I did not listen to suggestions, was arrogant and always wanted to do things "my way." Rebel without a clue for sure.

Some years later I moved to Florida and secured a job at a great business newspaper. I was overweight but was in somewhat more 'control' than before. Everyone in that newspaper was very good to me. For the first year things went well and I felt as if finally my life would work. But, again, I had to prove everyone wrong. So one Friday I went home to drink and binge and disappeared for months. They tried to help... but I was trapped and simply could not stop eating.

I recall waking and seeing boxes and boxes and boxes of pizza all over the place, garbage and the horrible smell of death. I looked in the mirror and saw a horribly bloated, greasy face with deep, dark circles around the eyes. I looked like something out of Night of The Living Dead. My Russian Blue cat "Uncle Joey" would stare at me in what looked to me like disbelief and compassion. "Dude... get a grip," I think I heard him say. lol

By then I was 90 pounds overweight and very sick from intestinal toxicity and a liver condition that was getting worse. I tried a very harsh treatment that only made matters worse and sent me into a total freefall that really almost killed me. A few times my body was so polluted that I collapsed and experienced strange and violent convulsions. I recall a young man who was with me one day when this happened and how horrified he was. He saved my life, actually.

One day I started fasting basically out of desperation. I was raised to a great extent by my Christian grandparents, so I knew about fasting as spirituality. I don't even think I started to fast to lose weight at that point. I was just dead and my soul was screaming for relief. I believe that I was instinctively led to fasting as a source of healing, both mentally and physically.  So I was consumed by horrible withdrawal symptoms before I could finish even eight hours without solid food. It was like being stabbed all over my body... the detox pain was intense. (I have left out a lot of details here, but I will add them over time as my memory gets better).

I was puzzled by the bad breath, white-sticky tongue, metallic taste and dizziness that I experienced. I also had very vivid nightmares of demons hovering over my bed and spiders coming down from the walls, clamping my wrists and ankles and immobilizing me as demons floating above me spat on my face. The dreams were so vivid that I even recall "touching" one of these demons. I recall a really bright yellow light behind me to the left. It seemed as though the walls had opened and a doorway to hell had materialized.

At least I interpreted it as being hell. The last thing I remember is the image of a man reaching out from the wall screaming in agony trying to escape as the "demons" tried to drag me into the yellow light. I prayed and called on Jesus, and just as quickly as it came, the light disappeared. If you don't believe me, I really don't care. I know that this is all true and that, in some way, that figure represented my soul coming out of hell. Whether it is a literal or symbolic hell, I don't care. I'm just glad I am outta there! lol

Research later led me to the realization that the symptoms were a reflection of just how toxic my body and digestive system had become. By that time I had spent nearly 25 years binging, binging and binging with very little interruption.I had no social life and hardly any friends. For all I cared my life was over. How dark it gets before the dawn! :-)

In an ultimate low, I received the grace, strength and resolve to launch a 40-day water fast. The start of the fast was hell. I quit smoking cold turkey right then and there. I was a two-pack-a-day smoker for two decades, Marlboro Reds.  The symptoms hit me hard and I was against the ropes many times. I don't know why I was doing this.

I just knew that I had to. I could sense in my spirit that this was my chance to find some sort of life. It was very hard and painful - especially during the first 11 days of cleansing and detoxification. But I was reborn. Fasting for weight loss, health and fitness has changed my life. It worked when traditional diets did not. I realized that, as long as I kept putting food in my body, I was not giving it the opportunity to cleanse from all the toxicity that had built up over the years.

My complete lack of control with food was a problem that only fasting was able to break. It forced me to navigate through the pains and discomfort of cleansing and detoxification. Only then did the chains of food slavery break and I was led to freedom. Once the fasting was over, I found - to my astonishment- that I was no longer willing to just put anything in my mouth. The sacrifice of fasting and cleansing gave me a new perspective on food.

This new perspective, in turn, gave me a fresh sense of discipline that had otherwise eluded me. In short, for me diets did not work because, in reality, what I needed was to stop eating altogether for a season so my body could clean itself.

I tried all the diets, believe me. Yet I only grew fatter and more frustrated. Each failure usually restored me to the previous undesired weight and added another 10 to 20 pounds to boot.  Later I realized that, at least for me, fasting and cleansing had to come BEFORE or could expect to stick to any particular diet - no matter how good it was.

Having lost nearly 100 pounds through juice and water fasting, I now dedicate myself to helping others interested in improving their health through this amazing, life-giving discipline. I am not here to present a rosy picture that this is easy. It is not. You have to get to the point where you are "sick and tired of being sick and tired."

AT that point, there is no other option but to press on and do whatever it takes to find freedom. And I am not cured of food addiction. I will be a food addict for the rest of my life. But, one day at a time, I choose to NOT take that first careless bit of the trigger foods that enslaved me.

That does not mean that I am a killjoy either. I do have my treats once in a while, but it with a structure and it is just a one-time shot. The mental food obsession has left me. I rarely get obsessive thoughts about food anymore. I have made contact with the God of my understanding.

I want you to know that no matter how low and hopeless you may feel, you CAN overcome and find freedom just like I did. I pray that you may be filled with strength, wisdom and determination to seize your freedom. And may all of your dreams come true. As I said, I have left out many details but will add them over time as memory hits me. Thanx for reading and God bless!  :-)