Rock Bottom

Rock bottom? I think this might just be it... I am 40 years old, 5'10" and weight 249 pounds. I got this way over a long period of time. I didn't get here alone, but my trip back might have to be a solo journey. How did I get like this? There is no one reason. I am past the point where blaming my childhood and blaming others has any value. For a time, I was trapped by circumstance, but that time has past. The responisibility for my current situation rests squarely on my shoulders. It is time to stop being passive. It is time to stop whinining and daydreaming. I am the only one who can change anything.

Fuck depression! Fuck it in its sick, sad, pitiful ass! Depression is something that has only recently overtaken me. I didn't used to be depressed, but escapism was my coping style before the Sad Times. However escapism can only go so far and then it, too is dangerous. In fact it can trigger depression. Wanting something... something you cannot have, wanting it so bad it causes physical pain! Pain to the point of paralysis.
I've always insisted that even at my worst, I have never been suicidal. But now I wonder, while it is must vehemently true that I've never given a moment's thought to actively killing myself (gulping pills, shooting/stabbing/hanging myself, etc), isn't what I've been doing over thesee years a more subtle, insidious form of suicide? Sitting quietly and passively by as life lived me? Watching the weight of my body increase? Witnessing the loss of my facial features and my beauty? Because yes, I can say now ith absoolute certainty that I was beautiful. God I wish I knew that then! Will I be able to find my way back to that? I hope so. I am going to try. All of these years I've been a sculpture in reverse, the statue disappearing into the stone slab... only my slab is of fat. It is time to sharpen the chisels and get to work.

Advancing weight, smoking, sadness beyond measure at ttimes and a feeling of helplessness as I have been carried by this self-destructiven current. Sounds kind of like suicide to me, the slow, agonizing kind. The cry for help kind. But no one is going to save me. No one CAN save me. I think finally, after a lifetime of seeking salvation and a rescuer who has yet to come, I have realized that it is going to take a lot of strength of will. It is going to be very difficult. But I WANT it!! I want to save myself.

I shake my head in wonder at how I got here. So much giving, so little self awareness, just a series of small self gratifications that were fleeting in their relief of my pain.

Pain. I keep referring to pain. A pain I cannot name, explain or quantify. A pain that, even in the face of a life most would find envieable, I spen much of my time miserable. What I wouldn't give to be SATISFIED!!!!! What I wouldn't give to be content and happy with the blessings that I have been given. Instead, I spend so much time reflecting on my wants, feeling restless and irritable, or jus unbelieveably sad. Some days are good days, spent with happy thoughts, goals, daydreams and of course the old favorite, GOOD INTENTIONS!! But I am at a point where my body is a prison. It has become some heavy, cumberosme and unwieldy. I have become so self conscious about my looks that all the mental energy of these happy bursts just trails off into nothing, and I am left feeling like a failure, worthless and listless, and judge myself so harshly that I am paralyzed again and cannot move.

I have no idea what causes this pain, but it's a pain that goes back so far that it is only now, looking in a mirror, or at photos at a woman I barely recognize that the full impact is hitting me.

I can't fix the past. I can't change it. It is written, my history, carved in stone. I have to push forward and let the sweat and tears wash away the writing, as the rain washes the engravings from tombstones and write a new story, a story that begins now. I went for a walk on the Soos Creek Trail today. To clear my head, for catharsis. I took two stones from the creek bed. I will keep them close. They will be my touchstones. Time for healing to begin. I pray it's not too late. I pray I have the strength.

Written May 15, 2010.

May 16th.

After I came home from the walk, I talked to a dear friend, and she said she will help me start this process. I plan to clean my pantry, restock, and start over. Healthier foods. More activity and exercise.

There is a lot going on in my world right now... not all of it is good... my life is a bit of a hot mess right now. I have a lot to think about... a lot of decisions to make... I had no idea that 40 was going to be a crossroads for me, yet here I sit.

I have to admit, quite frankly that I am scared to death. Of what, I have no idea. I just know that the time to hesitate is through... and of course... "a life lived in fear, is a life half lived."