lack of sleap makes you write odd things

To whom it may concern,

If it concerns anyone all that is. My name is Rain, I'm 36 years old, a father of two and a father to one. I currently weigh 545 pounds and it's killing me. It's a slow, painful death, but one that is inevitable if things don't change with me.

I have suffered a horrible disease most of my life. A disease that sneaks up on you and takes over your life. Many may say it's easily curable, and for some, it may be. For me, it is not. I have been a plagued with obesity my entire life. It has followed me closely, no matter how far or how fast I run from it. It has slowly taken over my life, pound by pound, inch by inch. At this point, I greatly fear that my only escape from this terrible disease with be my death. I don't want that to be true.

It causes me much pain, this ailment. My knees are shot, it hurts to stand, to walk, even, at times, to sit. I can not sleep at night because my body hurts so badly after a day of surviving under such a burden. My mind suffers as well. Depression is a silent and sneaky enemy. It feeds the obesity and the obesity feeds the depression.

I have used food as an escape for many years. Years I tried very hard to ignore the depression that has followed me throughout my life. I am still not sure what came first, being fat or being depressed. I do know that they live happily together in their co-dependent ways. Feeding on one another, supporting one another, all the while making my life rather unpleasant.

I do not know, exactly, how I got to the point I am currently at. Perhaps a love of food and a loathing of sweating had much to do with it. Perhaps it was the depression causing me to eat even when not hungry. Lack of motivation caused by lack of hope caused by depression and lack of support or friends. The pounds continued to find me, causing the pain to increase, causing the desire to exercise to become less and less, thus increasing the depression and the desire to eat because that is what makes me feel better. It's a vicious cycle and I can't seem to find my way out of it. Therapy is helping to a certain extent, but not enough.

And that brings me to the purpose, the point, the hope, of this letter. I need help. I don't know what kind of help, I will take any that is offered. I can't afford to join a gym, and if I did, I would be to self conscious to ever go. I have no exercise equipment at home, nor the financial means to purchase any. At this point, I can't even afford a decent pair of shoes.

My insurance won't cover gastric bypass surgery until I am diabetic. Given my current health, weight, and the fact that it runs it my family, that shouldn't take much longer. If I manage to live that long. I have even applied to be a cast member on “The biggest loser”. Though I'm not sure I have the personality for reality television.

I want to live, I want to see my children grow up, hold my grandchildren. I want to be able to play with my son and my daughter. It hurts me so deeply to not be able to get on floor and play with them, to not be able to ride bikes with them, or play in the park. Obesity has taken over my life.

I don't go certain places because I can't fit, or can't sit for fear of destroying the furniture. I can't fit in many cars because the seat won't hold me, or the seat belt won't fit me. I live in constant pain, from my knees, my feet, my back, and most of all, my mind.

I don't know what to do. I don't know how to do it. My mind is ready, my body refuses to follow. Something has to change. I don't know how much longer I can take the pain. I don't know what is worse for me, the physical pain, or the mental. Wanting so much to do so many things, and not being able to.

I need more than advice. I need actual help. I need someone to kick me in the ass. I need someone to motivate me. I need activities I can do that will burn calories but not put me in severe pain for days after. I need to be able to play with my kids. I need to fit into clothes that would allow me to get a job. I need to live past 40.