The Year of the Tank
January 5th, 2010 by Rusty HaskellIt’s time to start tanking my life.
In World of Warcraft – hell, in most any game – I play the tank, the guy designed to run up in the middle of everything and face it head-on. Give me a game mechanic that lets me run up, directly confront, and leave others free to go about their business without distraction, and I’ll inevitably choose that option. So why the hell haven’t I been doing this in real life – you know, the one shot that any of us has on this planet?
I’m clinically depressed. I have been my entire adolescent, young adult, and adult life. I’m over this. This isn’t my armor designed to protect me from all the scary things that lurk outside my door. This isn’t an excuse for why I do or don’t do anything. It’s part of the terrain, and frankly, if it stands in my way, then it’s just another monster to tank on my way through life. Fuck depression.
I weigh over 300 pounds. This is a logical result of the pathetic way I’ve lived my life. I’m not going to skirt around this fact and ignore it for one more day. I hate being fat, so it’s time to take charge of that and actually change the shit that makes it happen. And while we’re on the subject, yeah, I know I’ve lost weight before. I’ve dropped a hundred pounds in a year. I used to run 5 kilometers every morning before most of you woke up. I can lose the weight again, and I’m going to. The difference is that this time I’m going to tank it. I’m going to keep fighting every day until the obesity is gone and will never – can never – come back. Fuck obesity.
Social situations often cause me to have panic attacks. If you only know me casually, you probably have no idea that this is even the case. I’m extremely socially adept. I can small talk. I can chit-chat. For that matter, put me in front of an audience, and I’m not even the slightest bit bothered. But ask me to go hang out with a small group of people and there’s a 50-50 chance that I won’t show up. I’m afraid to pick up the phone to order a freaking pizza. I’m too nervous some nights to even queue up for a random dungeon in World of Warcraft. I’m going to stop being afraid. I’m not going to force myself to become an extrovert, but dammit, I’m not going to let myself avoid things that actually sound good to me just because I’m scared or nervous. I’m going to own my life. Fuck social anxiety.
I am the tank. I’m going to run up every single one of these problems, and I’m going to punch it in the face. I’m not going to stop fighting until the problem is down. Then I’m going to dust myself off and move right on to the next problem standing in my way and do the same damn thing. And if at any point I feel like I’m too tired to keep it up, I’m going to get some help because I refuse to quit and I’m too mean to die.
I’m going to ignore every single voice in my head that says I’m not good enough or that I’ve screwed this up in the past or that maybe I just shouldn’t even try. I’m going to do this because that’s the person I want to be, and excuses have no right to take that away from me. I won’t let excuses or obstacles take that away from me.
I’m no longer just some poor white kid from a rural background. I’m not a slave to your gender norms. I am not bound by the rules that some old geezer wrote down before I was ever born. I am not a checkbox on a form. I refuse to be merely a digit in your spreadsheet. I’m not a demographic in your weird focus group cult. I refuse to be someone else’s semantic construct. I am a force of nature, and I hereby refuse to be contained. Think you can try? I dare you.
Special thanks to my wife Allyson, Bear, my guildmates, and everyone who has taught me what it means to be a tank. I dedicate my upcoming successes to you guys. Because I’m going to win.


