more thoughts about my life

We've been talking about moving, getting out of this area, making a change. It occurred to me yesterday that that's what I have been trying to do most of my life. It's what my dad tried to do most of his life. To move and expect things to be different without changing ones self is fairly close to insanity. The only way to make things change is to change the way you see things. That is what I have to do.

I have lived in many places, to many even to remember accurately. It all turns into a blur of states, towns, houses, faces and places. The only common theme amongst it all has been me, my attitude, my feelings. As a result, they have all been the same, miserable. Same shit, different place.

Lack of social skills, self loathing, mistrust of most people, a strong dislike of authority, it all leads to a very lonely, sad person. Years of living in a dysfunctional family, with parents who argued on what seemed like a daily basis, really screwed up my view of reality. I have perpetuated the cycle by putting myself into dysfunctional relationships and the doing my best to sabotage them, because I don't know anything else.

All of this has, over the years, caused me to turn to food as a filler. Something to place in the empty void of my life. A friend, a lover, a constant companion. Lack of stimulation in my life has caused me to turn to food. To experience the taste, the smell, the texture, to feel full, of something, anything. I have finally realized that food is not my friend. It is, in fact, an evil, sneaky enemy bent on killing me slowly. I am fighting a battle for my life with something akin to a lover. Until I change, nothing around me will change.

I must fix my relationship with food. I must fix the way I see the world and those around me. I must fix the way I see myself. Until I do these things, nothing will change, no matter where I find myself. I have locked myself in an internal prison. One only I have the key for. One I am finally wanting to escape from. The door is rusty and stuck from being locked so many years, but I will get it open. I must get it open. The alternative is more misery, more pain, more sadness, and sooner than later, an early death.

seriously lacking focus

My mind seems to be floating out in space, totally disconnected from, everything. Sometimes it seems that is the only way I stay alive, halfway sane  and functioning. Reality is pain, depression, more pain. My body is tired. My body is sending me a loud, clear and painful message. Fix me or die. So now, all bullshit aside, no more excuses. It's very simple, I can continue committing slow and painful suicide, or I can make changes in my life.


That's what food is to me, a loaded gun with a very very slow bullet. I've been actively killing myself for the last 15 years or more, one bite at a time. Food is an addiction for me, as bad as any drug. It's a compulsion, a filler for something lacking in my life. I find myself eating when I had to intention to do so. I eat to much, without realizing what I am doing. Or maybe just not caring at the time. I disassociate, detach and lose conscious control of my actions. Like a heroin addict chasing the monkey.

This is the first time I have ever thought of food as a drug. It's a hard thing to realize. It's even harder to admit. To acknowledge that I have been actively committing suicide one hamburger at a time. I have to fix this.

It's somewhat eye opening when a person realizes they weigh a 1/4 of a ton. Actually slightly more. My current weight is 547 pounds. I can't walk to the end of my driveway without being in severe pain. Every time I go upstairs, I wonder if I'm going to make it before my heart pops or my knees cave and I do a face plant. Coming down them is even more of an adventure. I'm in constant pain, even sitting or laying down, I hurt. My body has had enough, it can't take it any more.

So here, finally, begins the big fight, the long battle, the war. It's a life or death fight. Only two ways to win, die, or get healthy. I have years of negativity and bad habits to overcome. I must find a different filler for the void I continually attempt to fill with food.  Just being aware I'm doing it is a huge step for me.

Another year older (well, almost)

One more year gone. Another year older. I feel, I don't know, lost perhaps. Confused. When I was a kid, all I wanted was to grow up and have a life of my own, to find stability, something I never had as a kid. As an adult, I still lacked stability. Things just never seemed to work out for me and I couldn't figure out why.

I finally went to school, college, for the first time. I thought I wanted to be a mechanic. I was wrong. I changed schools, found something I thought I would be good at. I was good at it yes, but limited because of my size and my attitude. I didn't fit the "profile" companies wanted to run boats for them. Then I had my kids.

I love my kids, more than anything. They are the most important thing in my life. I would not trade them for anything.

So off to school I went again. Now I'm pretty much done with that and still not sure what I want to do. I was hoping I would be interested enough to do something productive once I was done, yet I'm finding that not to be true. I just can't seem to figure things out.

I know that my depression and other issues make things harder. Focusing is difficult. I need a direction. I need some inspiration. I need some motivation. I need to finally figure out what I am good at, what I want to do with the rest of my life. I just don't know. I hope I can figure it out before I run out of time. My body is fighting me every step of the way and so is my mind.

A change of focus

I have decided to use this here blog thingy to chronicle my struggles to become healthy, both mentally and physically. Maybe if I wright things out, it will help me to focus more. I could certainly use some help in that department.

I feel very stuck, over whelmed, trapped even. I have a long long way to go to get out of this hole. 

the world as I see it, through pewter colored glasses

How nice it must be for those lucky enough to be positive. Those that see the good in everything, the up side, the glass as half full. How I would love to be one of those people.


Sadly, I find I am the exact opposite. Instead of seeing the up, I see the down, the negative before the positive. Not only is my glass half empty, some asshole drank the first half. When I look at a person, I instantly see the faults of that person, what is wrong instead of what is good.

sarching for a since of belonging

I have spent a great portion of my life moving while my dad searched for something he never has managed to find. Even after I left home, I still traveled, perhaps searching for the same illusive thing. Or perhaps it's more of a feeling I can't find. A since of belonging.

I have always felt out of place, like I should be someplace, but unable to find that place. Like a blind rat stuck in a maze, following the scent of cheese but unable to find it. Banging my head into wall after wall, all the while, sniffing the cheese I can't find. Home may be wear you hang your hat, but I don't wear hats.

I wonder frequently how it is that I keep ending up back in Oregon, a state I never have been fond of. I've lived in every corner of the state, as well as the middle. In the mountains, in the dessert, on the coast, and now in the valley. In none of these places have a found a feeling of belonging, none have felt like home, simply another rest stop along the roadside of life.

I feel, more and more of late, that I am supposed be a certain place doing something. I can't, however, seem to figure out what place and thing that is. I have this inner magnet that wants desperately to pull me south. To the warm water and ocean breeze, to nearby islands and tropical beaches. When I get lost in the music I listen to, this is the place I picture in my mind. When I dream, this is what I dream of. The sun, the smell of ocean, the sound of waves hitting the beach, the feel of sand between my toes.

Why is this? I don't understand it, I never have. But I've felt it most of my life. Like the sirens songs, calling me from afar, beckoning me into it's sweet embrace. I can close my eyes and see it perfectly, smell it even.

I am sitting here at 3 in the morning letting music take me away, getting lost in the sounds of the flamenco guitar, letting it take my soul away from my tired, stressed out body. It's an odd thing, I don't just listen to music like this, I feel it. It speaks to me, it takes me in its warm embrace and wraps me tightly in the folds of beautiful notes created by people with a talent I will never possess. It gives me visions of happier places, warmer places, better places.

I have had much time recently to ponder my life, my past, present and future. Much of my past I have forgotten completely, my future is unknown and my present is, frankly, a mess. Perhaps the way I feel about music and the way it makes me feel is how many people feel about religion and the deity they believe in. Some go to church and pray to feel better, I put on a set of headphones and push play.

I have had occasion to wish I could be of a religious nature. It must be very nice to have that faith. To know with certainty that a god is looking out for you, that no matter how bad things get, in death, you have a heaven to look forward to. Alas, my mind is much to logical for such belief, and certainly to much so for blind faith.

Perhaps if I had the ability to believe in a god, I could say he/she/it had a plan for me. I've heard religious people make this claim. Is it a belief in destiny? But if you believe in destiny, can you at the same time, believe in free will? Or if it's "gods will", do you have no choice in your actions and life is simply a script written by a higher being? If that is the case, I hope he has an editor and this is just a first draft.

I guess my search for a since of belonging will have to continue. I shall carry on, as I always do. In the immortal words of chumba wumba "I get knocked down, I get up again, you aint never gonna keep me down", only it's getting harder and harder to get back up. What I do know, with absolute certainty, is that I am tired. Tired of struggling, tired of be tired, tired of being in pain, tired of feeling like I don't belong anyplace, and tired of not feeling.

Perhaps I will never find the place I seek, perhaps we aren't supposed to. Is that the purpose of life, to find the place that makes you happy? To find your purpose, your "destiny"? If it is, I need a map or a clue or something, because I feel quite lost at the moment.

Like The Wind - Mark Towns Latin Jazz Bolero

grrrrrrrr

God I hurt. Everything hurts. My mind, my body, from head to toe. My knees feel like they are grinding glass. I stand more than a few minutes and my back starts to feel like it's been hit with a bat. My feet hurt when I walk. When I can walk, that is. I'm so tired of being in pain and being tired. I hate this. And I don't know how to fix it.

It seems so simple for some people. The suggestions I get, just walk, eat less. I do eat less, I can't walk. The depression makes it hard to do anything, even getting out of bed some days is a struggle. I have no motivation, no drive and very little interest in anything. Many of the things I want to do, I simply can't because of my size, or because it would hurt too damn bad. So I do nothing. I sit at home and wallow in self pity and loathing. I frequently feel like I hate myself.

I think, often now, of my past. Of the places I've been and the things I've done. The good, the fun, the bad, the illegal and the stupid. Some would say I've lead a fairly interesting life. I don't know. I feel like I've accomplished very little in my life. So I've seen the Northern Lights and the “green flash” sunset. I've been to the two extreme ends of this country. What good is it?

I'm sitting here, in pain, trying to figure out some way to make money to pay bills. Trying to sell the few extra things I have, with no luck yet. Trying to figure out how I can find a job, keep a job and take care of my kids. Nothing seems to add up. So, I guess I'll have myself a little pity party and see what happens. Something always seems to.

another day

I remember thinking once that life would get easier with age. I'm finding the opposite to be true. Seems like the older I get, the less I know or understand. But then, things have changed to much over the last few years, I'm amazed I've managed to keep a hold on my sanity at all. It may be a tenuous hold, but a hold none the less.

Some days I feel like I am hanging from a ledge by the tips of fingers, with shark filled water below. I frequently feel like I'm losing my mind, or my grasp on sanity, such as it is. My level of depression, while always being a factor, lately seems to be more prevalent and having more of an effect on my life.

At times I almost miss my younger years. I have always known that I felt differently from most people. I have always known that my mind is, for lack of a better description, wired differently than most. I didn't really understand the depression until recently. And sometimes I think that makes it even worse. I went from just feeling like crap to knowing why I feel like crap but not being able to do anything about it. It's like watching a train wreck you can't stop.

I hate the way I feel. I hate what the depression does to me. I hate that it's so hard to control. It takes over my life at times. It keeps me from doing things I want to do and causes me to do things I don't want to do. It's like a constant out of body experience. Like watching a movie of life instead of living it.

I shut off so many parts of me. Built walls, locked doors and melted the keys. Parts of me that I barely remember. Some parts I have completely forgotten about until recently. I don't remember how to feel most emotions. Anger comes easy for me, but the others, lost, or vague. A distant memory. When so much of me feels nothing and the rest of me feels nothing but pain, it makes life a very miserable experience.

I don't know what it's like to be truly happy. If it's something I ever did experience, like much of my past, I don't remember it. The birth of my son should have been a happy occasion for me. Instead, I was not allowed in the hospital, I found out he was born from an anonymous message of myspace. I was even told he wasn't mine more than once. Turning what should have been one of the happiest times of my life into one of the worst.

The birth of my daughter was much better, but still not what I think it should have been. The amount of stress I was under at the time, the unsure future, the lack of money, it all caused me much worry and made a time that should have been wonderful and happy, not nearly what it could have been.

Such is my life. Even in the happiest of times, I manage to focus on the negative. I cant seem to help it. It is, apparently, my nature to worry about things I can not control. I feel like I'm struggling day to day to survive instead of living life. Every day seems to be harder than the last.

I don't really want much from life. Financial stability, to not be in constant pain, a good, happy life for my children. Stability in general would be nice. Something I never really had growing up. My parents did what they could for us, but I don't think they ever realized how the way we lived would impact our futures as adults.

I have moved more times than I can count. Forgot how to form long standing bonds with anyone or anything. My shrink says it was a survival mechanism. She's probably right. Every time I would make a friend or two, we would move. When I would get a pet, it would either die a tragic death or we would have to move and couldn't keep it or take it with us. I climbed into myself at a very early age. My friends lived in books and I happily followed them to so many imaginary places. The fabulous thing about books, they don't leave until you are done with them and there is always one more waiting to be a companion. I found solace food, another eager companion, readily available for consumption. I stopped trying to step out of my shell, every time I did, I got stepped on. Now, I can't find the way out.

All I want is to feel normal. To not hurt all the time. To be able to socialize with people. To have a healthy relationship with my girlfriend and my children. To have some feeling of security in my life.

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.