The Mission Ain’t Finished Yet: Our Health Journey as Brothers

 From 330 to 288: My Ongoing Journey to Better Health

By: David Gillespie

My weight loss journey wasn’t the easiest journey.

It started during the pandemic—a time when everything stopped, and the world stood still. I went from always being outside and active to being stuck inside with nothing to do but scroll through social media and eat whatever was in the fridge. It became a cycle, but I wouldn’t call myself lazy. I had the discipline. I had the right mindset. What I lacked back then was confidence and courage.

I wasn’t insecure—I just didn’t realize how much weight I had gained until months later. That realization hit hard. I knew something had to change. I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to inspire others, and to do that, I had to first inspire myself.

Back then, I struggled with late-night snacks, large portions, and the physical effects of the weight I carried. I would breathe heavily just walking. I sweat a lot. I was a mouth breather and snored heavily at night. It even affected my sleep. Eventually, I had to get my tonsils removed to help with my breathing.

The journey didn’t just take a toll physically—it challenged me mentally too. Even something as simple as calling a doctor’s office was difficult. I would freeze, stumble over my words, or just hang up before anyone answered. I was battling more than just weight—I was battling self-doubt, anxiety, and silence.

But I started growing.

One memory that sticks with me is something simple that changed everything. During the pandemic, my mom and brothers4 brought out two white paint buckets filled with dry rice. What started as a joke—"Let’s see if y’all can lift this"—turned into a daily routine. For me, it became a workout, a way to fight back, and a way to take control of my health.

I used those buckets every day in the basement. Even after we moved houses, that commitment stuck with me. It wasn’t just about lifting buckets anymore. It was about lifting myself out of the place I had been mentally and physically.

Now? I’m down from 330 pounds to 288. I’ve lost 42 pounds—that’s like carrying around a huge sack of potatoes and finally putting it down. At one point, I was nearly 350 pounds. This is the lightest and most confident I’ve felt since before the pandemic.

And my transformation isn’t just physical. I’ve started stepping out of my comfort zone. I’m talking to people more. I’m going outside more. I’m smiling more. I’m cracking jokes with my family again. I’ve stopped saying “I can’t” or “It’s too hard” or “It’s too heavy.”

No more excuses.

Sure, I still enjoy a snack now and then, but I’ve learned how to manage my diet and maintain a healthier lifestyle. And I’m not done yet. This journey isn’t over. I still have progress to make, goals to reach, and barriers to break. But I’m doing the work. Every day.

This is my message to anyone reading this: no matter what life throws at you, keep pushing. You will face challenges. You will face setbacks. But if you want to make a change—really want it—you can make it happen.

Have faith in yourself.

The job isn’t finished yet…
But I’m getting there.

Daniel’s Journey: From Unaware to Empowered

For me, my health journey started in a place of total unawareness.

During my time at Mercyhurst, I had no idea I was diabetic. I just knew I was constantly thirsty, always very tired, and gaining weight without understanding why. I remember stepping on the scale and seeing 230 pounds, shocked and confused because I didn't know why I lost over 30 pounds quickly. I thought it was just the stress from college, late nights, heavy meals, and trying to get through life while navigating autism, school, work, and everything else that came with it.

But deep down, something felt off.

I didn’t know the signs. I didn’t think much of it at first. But eventually, it became too obvious to ignore. The exhaustion. The dry mouth. I finally went to the doctor—and that’s when I found out: I had diabetes and was a type 2 diabetic.

That changed everything.

I started taking my health seriously—not just to lose weight, but to live. Now I have gained a bit of weight since then. I went from 269 pounds to 264 pounds, and now I’m on Ozempic because I want to drop another 10–15 pounds and finally get to a weight that feels healthy and right for me. I’m not chasing perfection. I’m chasing progress.

Some anxiety medications can cause weight gain (i.e., buspirone can cause weight gain). For some autistic individuals food textures can get the best of them. For me, okra has always been a food I disliked, and I pretty much eat everything. In my grandma's garden, every time she grows okra and cooks it, I always pass up on it because I never liked that slimy texture

What people don’t see behind the scenes is the emotional weight of it all—the shame, the fear, the second-guessing, and the frustration when your body doesn’t respond right away, or when you slip up and feel like you're starting over.

But like David, I realized something important: the journey doesn’t have to be fast—it just has to be honest and consistent.

We both come from a family where we’ve had to fight for ourselves—whether through health, education, or just being heard as autistic Black men. And now, we’re choosing to fight for our health. Not just for how we look—but for how we feel, how we show up for others, and how we show up for ourselves.

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Two Brothers. One Mission.

This isn’t the end of our story. It’s just the beginning.

We’re both still working on ourselves. We still have setbacks. We still have days where we feel like giving up. But we made a choice—to change. To keep going. To inspire others like us who feel overwhelmed, overlooked, or just plain stuck.

If that’s you, hear this:
You’re not alone.
You can take your life back.
You can transform.

It won’t be easy.
But it’ll be worth it.