An Inner Cry for Help or I Just Can't Take it Anymore!

I'm not much of a movie person, but every now and then the mood will hit me.  I'm a bit played out with Skyrim, and I won't be playing Halo until later this evening.  So, today was the perfect time to throw a movie on.  I watched Troll 2 a couple times this weekend already.  I love a good cult classic.  But today I was in the mood for something more serious.  Something that would be thought provoking.  The description for Leaving Las Vegas immediately jumped out at me.  A story about a self-destructive man who finds an angel.  Well, I never realized just how much I would relate to this movie.  So much that it has inspired me to write this and fill everyone in on what is actually going on with me and my quest for gastric bypass surgery.


As most of you know, the best case scenario for my date with the surgeon was supposed to be some time in October.  That was if the insurance company accepted my case immediately after my six months of monthly doctor visits, psych, and nutritional eval.  The more likely time would probably have been november/december to have my first visit with the surgeon.  Either way, I was looking so forward to this surgery when I found out this spring that I was covered.  I thought things would go so smooth. Just one thing after the other. boom boom boom.  I was wrong.  I now completely understand why insurance companies require so much time for preparation.  The truth is somehow and for some reason, I just can't get myself to fully commit.

The last time I saw a doctor was september.  This was the month that I knew I had to get my psych evaluation.  That was when things started going downhill.  I just quit.  I have absolutely no reason or understanding why, but something in my subconscious decided that change and working hard was just out of the question and I should continue to live this life.  Regardless of how much I hate myself, how inconvenient things are being this way, SOMETHING is keeping me content.  I have no fucking clue for the life of me why, but goddamnit, I've had enough of the bullshit!  It's time I find out what the fuck is going on inside my head.  See, right there. that is a perfect example of the inner struggle I deal with daily.  It's a beautiful love/hate relationship that I have with myself.  A few months will go by and I'll be on the love side of the fence.  I'll work at something I want to achieve.  I'll have daydreams and visions of a nice future and work towards that.  Then I'll spend the next few months completely not giving a fuck.  No noticeable trigger that I can think of.  Just out of the blue I will say fuck it.  Then I feel guilty about it.  I'll sit here and eventually wallow in all my guilt and doubts.  Everything I have ever done that I am ashamed of will be right in front of my mind.  I will dwell on every single failure.  This gets me to the point that I just don't care.  Because eating and playing video games temporarily shuts these feelings off for a little while each night.  For some reason, it creates just enough of a balance to where I can function daily.

Then I hear things like Patrice Oneal's death or watch movies like Leaving Las Vegas, and it's like a giant smack in the face.  What the fuck am I doing?!?  I should be learning from other people's mistakes.  Son of a bitch!  I've had the "talk" with many loved ones NUMEROUS times about getting my shit together.  Getting with the fucking program and actually doing something on this fucking planet that is not self-destructive.  I've had patients with weight problems that died young.  I even watched them fucking die.  Been there with the family crying for their loved one.  You would think that after all this that something somehow would eventually stick in my shitty head to change my destructive behavior.  But nope.  I just go on being a complete dumbass who is content being 35, over 500 pounds, living with his father, and basically does nothing but try too hard to be funny on Facebook and play xbox all day long.

I've been doing some thinking friends.  I obviously have some major, deep-seated issues that I have to deal with.  I mean, you don't just get to 500 pounds and continue to eat and smoke without a care in the world unless there is some hardcore subconscious damage.  I need to know why I continue to behave like I'm satisfied and content when the conscious part of me begs for something different.  I crave living a healthier life.  I can't describe to you how much I despise myself.  How much I loathe what I have become.  But regardless of how much I want to live better, I just can never fully commit to actually doing it.  Like Nicolas Cage in the movie, I need to find my angel.  I don't just mean a nice woman who will accept me through all this bullshit.  (Women come and go.  Most likely more will come as long as I'm thinner. Just human nature.) What I mean by MY angel is I have to find that certain something that makes me feel like I have a reason to live.  That hurts just writing this.  To finally realize that there is nothing or nobody in this world that makes me feel like I want to be a better person.  That can't be true.  I have the best group of friends anyone could ask for.  I am so blessed to have them.  My family is small, but we are are tight-knit.  It has nothing to do with any of those fine people.  I need to figure out why I feel this way, and what I can do to get myself to think differently.

So, after more thinking, I feel that one of the best things I think could happen for my mental health is to go to a facility for about a month or two.  I can initially work on nicotine and caffeine detox, and then get treatment and psych sessions regularly.  Basically what I think I need is rehab.  But here's the catch.  I'm not psychotic.  I don't hear voices, have hallucinations, or harm others.  Also, I'm fairly sure that you have to be hooked on more than just food and nicotine to go to rehab.  Alcohol or hard drugs. Something like that.  This is my knowledge so far.  I am gonna have a heart to heart with dad and my doctor tomorrow to see if I'm overreacting, or if there are certain avenues like this that I can take.  All I know is that I am sick and tired of the rollercoaster.  I'm tired of the love/hate thing I have going on.  I'm tired of being this way.  Some of you may consider this a huge setback in my surgery progress, but I'm actually glad this happened.  I would MUCH rather be dealing with this now than after having staples in my stomach.  Thanks for your time.  I hope you don't think I'm too crazy and you'll still want to talk to me.