Admitting Things

I've been avoiding writing this post for some time. I've been avoiding it because I really don't want to write another whiny diatribe about how life is hard and how I've been failing. I don't want to bore you all who are kind enough to stop by. But more than that, I don't want to admit it to myself and I don't want to see it in words.

When I look back through my posts, I am amazed at what I have written, what I have figured out and what I have forgotten. I'm a pretty with it kind of guy, when I remember to be a with it kind of guy. I've made some real insight into the emotional connections I have with food.

It's also clear that I am depressed. For the last 18 months I've dealt with a falling out with a pastor and the end of his friendship, the heart crushing months of watching my wife fall into severe mental illness and the loss of her income, my own demons and the shame of gaining all my shed weight back, plus another 20. I've dealt with a new position with the library, and now I get to report that I am losing that position due to severe budgetary cuts (I will not be out of a job, however...at least for now). And lately I have the task of deciding who on my staff will receive cuts in their hours. Raising kids, paying bills, and all the other “normal” stress anyone lives through has certainly not made living through the trials of the last year and a half any easier.

For this whole period, I knew I was depressed. I thought it was situational as I certainly had reasons to be stressed, anxious and depressed. But looking back, I think it is clear to me know that I have been mired in a true depressive episode triggered by my situation, but rooted in my illness. I've been here before. I've been on medication for nearly 20 years now, but most of the time it is merely maintenance, not catching up and knocking it down.

I am proud that through all the ordeals of the recent past, I kept it together, got things done, cared for my spouse and kept it from deeply affecting my job. However, now that she is better, I find myself falling apart. I expected the stress to go away once she recovered and once she found employment. What I find is that in releasing that stress, I am releasing the energy that had kept all the cracks closed.

A few weekends ago, I worked a Saturday shift at the branch library. When I came home, I found myself in the middle of a battle of wills between my wife and our teenaged son. And I lost it. Somewhere between trying to mediate a peace and being a parent, I broke down. I was making a toasted cheese sammich. And I gasped a terrifying breath in. I had been fighting tears and fighting feelings of losing control, but I could not do that anymore. In the middle of the kitchen, standing in front of the stove, I sobbed. Uncontrollably. I made it to the bedroom, and kept sobbing for what seemed like a half hour with my wife comforting me.

Afterward, we had a family meeting. My kids had never, ever seen me cry (except during sappy periods of movies). I had frightened them. I think they feared I had gone ill as their mother had a year ago. I don't know. The point is, we talked about not just “it” but about a whole lot of things. Of my wife's illness and recovery. Of her new job. Of our worries for the kids. Of their worries for us.

I'd like to say that everything was sunshine and lollipops after that. To a large degree, things were better. My son, especially, felt free to speak what was on his heart and broke down some of those walls. But for myself, not much has changed, except the realization that my depression is not rooted only in my situation in life...I need help. I'm getting it, though the wait time to get in to see a doctor is long.

In the meantime, the weight continues to pile on. I'm working very hard at not hating myself for it, but the way I'm feeling makes that pretty impossible from time to time.

I was reminded, however, that one of the central tenets of the Buddha is that life is painful. Not accepting that truth is what causes suffering. Spending all of my energy trying to avoid accepting the truth of my condition in my physical, mental, emotional, spiritual spheres is causing me to suffer. Perhaps right now is not the time to work on weight loss but instead work on getting my inner house in order.

I am a large man. No amount of blogging, talking, worrying or wishing changes the fact that at this moment in my life I am fat and unhealthy. I must accept that so the suffering can stop. And, hopefully, the healing begin.