Zero Year

I have lost control.

Tonight I ate a cheeseburger.

It may seem like sheer insanity for a near 400 lb man with potentially debilitating emotional and mental disorders to say that the act of ingesting a single cheeseburger could be pinpointed as the low water mark of his entire life, but tonight it is so.

In the past 11 months I've spent $50,000 on comic book statues, dropped a grand in a single night in more than a few go-go bars, ruined a few good friendships, let my house fall into total decay, and been as close to the edge as I've ever been more times than I care to think about.

Tonight I ate a cheeseburger...and now I have lost control.

The longer I hang on to trying to fix this mess, the longer I put off the inevitable decision to simply blow it all the fuck up and try to start again. The longer I fight with myself the more time I waste not doing the things I know I have to do.

There are things I know I should do, things I know I should be getting help for. But I know I won't. So putting off not getting help, and not really doing anything about them just lets the problem fester. Knowing I'm strong enough to fight them, knowing I can handle my shit when it comes down to it prevents me from feeling like I ever really need to fix this. If I can consistently find reasons to hang on, find ways to survive then why risk making it worse? The very confidence I feed on to survive damns me to spend the rest of my life like this. For far too long I've recognized this and done nothing.

I've changed before.

I've saved myself before.

Tonight I start again. The clock resets.

Zero Year.