This is difficult for me to admit. Especially on the web of all places. I've been wanting to have a private blog for years now, but I never took that first step until now. I used to write in journals, but I type so much faster than I write, so this is my best outlet.
I'm having surgery tomorrow. It's weight loss surgery. There is such a negative stigma about weight loss surgery and I am one of those believers in the negative stigma. I'm a hypocrite. Many of the false assumptions of weight loss surgery are my own. It's pathetic. Yet, tomorrow's my surgery date. I'm nervous, I'm anxious, I'm concerned, I'm ashamed. Most of all though, my depression is killing me. I mean that literally. I sit here at home alone and I keep thinking of things that I need to get done before I die. I want to die. I want tomorrow's surgery to go horribly wrong and cause my death. I think of ways that I can sabotage it. I think of what I can do right now to make sure it goes wrong tomorrow. Even as I sit here writing this, I have already thought of a handful of ways. It's shameful. It's not like me. The old me, that is.
The old me. Man, oh man, do I miss the old me! I used to always be happy, used to be the life of the party, used to be so optimistic, always had a smile on my face, was always encouraging others, etc. The old me was also thinner, frequented church a few times a week, had friends, listened to music as therapy, wrote in my journals, ate better, and so much more. As silly as it sounds, it's the old me that I wish I were today. Obviously, I know that I can't go back in time, but I do dwell. When I dwell, I get depressed, when I get depressed, I have suicidal thoughts, when I have suicidal thoughts, I want to act on them. It's a downward spiral. Wow...downward spiral, what a great NIN album. My thoughts race all over the place. I can never just clear my mind of my thoughts. It's always going faster than my actions. Always with the what-ifs, how comes, why mes?, etc. It's pathetic, I know.
The meds don't seem to be helping and if they are, then damn. I was worse than I thought. I feel the same. Feel the same way I did back when I first went to the Psychiatrist to explore medications. Now, however, I have to fake it. I have to fake that I'm better to those around me. I have to pretend that they're working. The truth is, they aren't working. I shouldn't be this depressed. Nothing in my life should cause this. I know that. I know there are people who have it WAY worse than I do. My life is easy compared to many other people's. I don't want to play the victim. I know I'm not a victim. I know that I shouldn't feel this way, but I do. I think of being dead. My depression would go away then. Wouldn't it?
My beliefs tell me otherwise. They tell me that I will be suffering in hell if I were to cause my own demise. My soul would never find peace. I don't want that for me. I don't even want to risk that possibility. I believe in God still. I believe that Jesus Christ was his son and that He died for us and our sins. I do believe. I wish that belief alone was enough to push me out of this depression. I want to be with God now. I don't want to wait. I don't want to cause my death. I don't want to end my life and risk not being with Him. But please, please, take me tomorrow. I want to be done with all this. I struggle so much to write this, but these are only a quarter of the thoughts that I have racing in my head every moment. I need out.
