Why I am still here

2013 might have been the last year of my life. The crushing weight of endless debt, declining health and no inclination to change it, and a soul-sucking job only reminded me of how pointless and meaningless my life had become. I had a lost all sense of purpose or direction and existed only to serve the needs of a family I had come to resent.



I was diagnosed with hypertension, and have struggled with depression for years. I had continued to fail upwards in to jobs that paid more than I have ever made in my life but was living hand to mouth due to the one-two punch of personal debt and my wife's student loans. Living without a safety net I have no assets, no retirement plan and no way out.

My marriage was in decline and it was no one's fault. We were simply trapped by our decisions with nothing to save us. Every plan, every attempt to get things under control would be met by an unplanned massive expense that would dig us deeper. My wife who was already working a full-time job had taken on two part time jobs for menial $ to try and help. It only succeeded in slowing the bleeding for a time, and in making the distance between us greater. My step-kids were now near 20 and 17, no longer the children I had accepted as a necessity to have a relationship with my wife, but virtual adults with their own agendas. I had begun to resent them and what I thought was their sense of entitlement and enormous lack of gratitude.

I saw no path to success. I only saw an hole that lead deeper into the darkness.

As a military brat I had learned early that you never give up. I had grown to accept that walking away from something that might be literally impossible is a failure of character rather than acknowledgement of reality. I was taught unintentionally to tilt windmills.

I am in therapy now with a talented psychologist who is helping me change these behaviors. It is hard work, and is not making my relationship stronger but putting more pressure on it as I learn to be more assertive with asking for my emotional needs. I have not yet learned how to be more gentle in manner, though I hope to, as middle age is a lonely place when you are an asshole.

I was diagnosed with hypertension last spring, and was walking around at 280 lbs with a blood pressure of 180/120. I was already on a cpap machine and meds for sleep apnea. I ate poorly and didn't exercise. I was waiting to die.

The hypertension scared me enough to get medicated for it and I adopted a dog, and was walking 4-7 km a day. My weight didn't budge.

I had started listening to several podcasts, significantly WTF and GiantBomb. WTF was significant because its host Marc Maron had been a comic for decades but was relatively unknown. Coming out of a devastating second divorce he seemed lost and hopeless, and started asking his comedian friends and colleagues to record with him. The early episodes combined with his second album paint a picture of a man throwing shit at a wall one last time trying to make something stick. Clearly this resonated with me. Maron had enough self awareness to acknowledge his need to self-sabotage, a trait I share but had not recognized.

Over the past year I have consumed 300 of his 400 podcasts and listened to his struggles as he tried and succeeded to find a place for his work, almost accidentally. If you don't listen you should. It's funny and touching and sometimes sad but always insightful.

It's a strange feeling to invite other voices into your head. Beyond your own ongoing dialogue these new external voices bring their own points of view and somehow become a part of your life.

I posted here about the series of events that led me to breakdown over the loss of Ryan Davis, host of the GiantBombcast and a voice in my head for the last couple years. Ryan's death has loomed over me since it happened and I didn't know why. He was a perfect stranger to me, but also now a missing voice. I attributed my emotional reactions about his death to that sudden vacuum. Only through therapy did I come to understand I mourned him because I envied him. I missed his laugh and all it represented.

Watching through the distance that is twitter the tribulations of his new wife having to leave their home and rid herself of his things broke my heart. It wasn't fair. I had no insight into their lives other than what they presented on the internet, but Ryan seemed to me like a man who fought for everything he had and was doing what he loved. They were clearly in love and shared their lives, rather than living them concurrently. There is no doubt they had struggles and fights and pain and sadness but they also had joy and seemed to squeeze life for every drop they could.

So the question that burdened me is that why is a man so filled with life and passion stolen from the world and I have to keep living.

It seemed unfair, from both sides. I contribute nothing of value and will leave no legacy behind. I gave up on myself years ago. I have wanted to die more than once. I often doubt I will be missed and have since I was a teenager.

I don't value myself at all.

But I am trying. I am doing the working and coming to understand how I got here and why I think the things I do. I am trying to not let the burdens break me but buoy them with joy and if not joy then the neutrality of acceptance. It's hard. I don't know if my marriage or my career will survive this transition. I know I owe Maron a debt for being as open about his pain and struggles, enough to encourage me to seek help due to his example. I owe Ryan for reminding me that there are things in life worth fighting for and that life is worth living if you want it to be. I am not there yet. I am not yet prone to moments of spontaneous joy or kindness to myself or others, but I am trying. I am trying to laugh more and be grateful for those that love me.

I don't want to die as much anymore.