Okay… it’s sad enough that I’m sitting here, a mere 4 minutes into 2011, alone, and mired by thoughts of what is not and what may never be. I’m trying really hard to be the positive one that I was one year ago; and while I can boast a few successes, I am still stuck in a body that I struggle to call anything other than a prison. Once again, I’m reminded of the things I should have done and the advice I should have taken years ago. The blame lies squarely on my shoulders and I truly have accepted that. The fact that is becoming so clear and maddening is, now that I have the desire and the will to make the necessary changes in my life, I am physically unable to. The once seemingly effortless task of finding employment has become a source of great anxiety and despair. Even if I can find a job and manage to make it last any respectable length of time, the government is likely to start taking more of that money from each check as my defaulted student loans come back to bite me on the ass. Again, a situation ultimately brought on by my bad decisions. Hindsight… yeah, yeah, yeah…
While I know things could always be far worse for me, and things surely are for others, I feel truly helpless and don’t know how to dig myself out of this. Even if I were to sell every material possession I have, which I would be willing to do, I would not be any closer to a solution. I don’t really own anything of significant value to begin with, and that’s fine with me, that’s not what I want in life. I just want a degree of happiness on a somewhat regular basis; I don’t think that’s too much to ask for, do you?
I weigh 440+ lbs, and whether you want to admit it or not, that’s not just a physical condition; it’s both an emotional and social condition as well. My extreme weight affects my life every second of every day. You’re right, no one forced me to be this way, I know, so please don’t insult my intelligence. Please understand, I am not crying, “woe is me”… I’m just explaining where I’m coming from. There’s no reason why someone, at the age of 34, should be seriously considering filing for disability, but, I am. You see, what I’ve not made clear at this point is, I have another affliction to add to my list, and that is my recent diagnosis of Psoriasis. Add to that the delightful bonus (yes that was sarcasm) of having Psoriatic Arthritis. So to sum that up for you, and I will let you do the clicking of the links provided to research if you like, I get to add another layer of visual disgust and yet another reason to be in pain on a daily basis. Yes, most assuredly, there are others who have it far worse, but this, for me, is pretty damned bad and I don’t know how much more I can take.
I will tell you right now, I will never kick out the chair and swing, I will never look down the barrel and squeeze the trigger, but I am killing myself by an even more destructive and painful way, from the inside out. I feel as though my soul, whatever that is, what makes me, me… I feel it withering and I don’t know how to replenish it. The situation I find myself in is one of perpetual disappointment; in myself, in others, in the world I’ve created that is choking the very life out of me. I am trying, I am trying real damn hard not to be the angry man I have been for so long, but I feel it consuming me and bringing me deeper into the hell that I’ve created. I look around me and all I see is my failures and the success of those around me. I couldn’t even see through the one thing that I care about most in this world, my music. That, even more than anything else, I fear, is what is really eating away at the core of all that is good and redeeming within me. Even as I rejoice in the success of others and the dream that they’ve kept alive for themselves, a part of me dies every time I venture out in support.
I’d be happy to dig ditches, flip burgers, wash cars… so long as I could do so from a seated position. The fact is, I cannot stand for long periods of time. Mainly due to my severe obesity, but compounded, now, by my arthritis. Typing has become a monumental feat at times when I have a flare up. Fortunately the pain comes and goes, unfortunately the pain is fairly unrelenting when it’s present and it’s present quite often. It has caused this blog to take well over two hours to produce when it would have easily taken a fraction of the time a year ago. My point in all this is that, the will to do something is there, the way is not as clear. I am truly on the verge of tears as I type this knowing that this won’t really be any more productive than if I had just gone to bed instead of spewing forth my insecurity and angst for all to read. There is something somewhat therapeutic about it though. It may be a cry for help, though I don’t really know how anyone could help me, except for sharing the windfall of a winning lottery ticket or inheritance. The tragedy is that, in life, there is no reset button, you have one life with many decisions and you must suffer the consequences for the action or inaction of your life.
With another 365 days ahead I feel as though I have wasted half my life, maybe more, and I am having a really hard time seeing any light at the end. Today, more than any other time in the past year, I wanted a pack of cigarettes and a comfortable bar stool. I am not a religious man, but, I want now more than ever to believe there is a reason for all of this and there is something beyond all of this. The thought of eternal nothingness is terrifying to me, especially if I am unable to change my life and my body, because it might not be far off if I don’t find a way. I’ve, over the past year, lost a couple of people to cancer, good people who didn’t deserve to die that way, no one does really, it’s a devastating way to go. Driving my fear and thoughts of mortality even further is the likely death of my best friend. He, it would seem, has lost the will to live and has given in to his addiction. I feel unable to help him at all; I can’t even help myself. For so many years I envied his life; his home, his loving wife and children. He came from such inadequate and meek beginnings in a family that didn’t deserve him, and built what I thought was the “ideal life”, one that I had pissed away for myself, having been given everything I needed to succeed handed to me. I developed my work ethic much later than he had. I jumped from job to job while he has had few in the 15 years since graduation. He and I have been like brothers since we were ten years old, though we have drifted apart for a number of reasons over the past few years. I thought I knew him like I knew myself, little did I know, lurking beneath the surface was something that would eventually destroy the man I once knew and bring about someone who I hate to admit that I dread. I hope for the best but am preparing for the worst; his loss is one that I am not ready for, not yet.
I know I’ve wandered a bit here… it’s just a little hard to maintain a cohesive train of thought with all that’s rattling around in my head. I’m looking for that light, I need to find some hope to get me through this. I am at a loss, truly…
I’ve got to get some sleep… Don’t worry, though it may seem so, I’m not suicidal, just not really in a good place. May my dreams take me away from the pain and offer solace in the comfort of a warm, happy memory.
Goodnight
