NaNoWriMo, Scott's Story, Chapter Thirty-Eight - In Scott's Eyes

Chapter Thirty-Eight – Today, Tomorrow? – In Scott’s Eyes
2009, Present Day – Mom is 60, I am 35, Julie is 32

Julie sent me this letter, and God it made me feel bad. I know how she feels about me, and I know I’m letting her down every day. But I don’t know what to tell her. I’m not going to that ranch. More than anything, I don’t want to owe anyone in this family anything – ever again. My aunt – the one with the money – has been treating my Mom like shit lately, and I won’t have anything to do with help from her. I don’t want it, and I don’t need it. I can do this on my own, if I can just find a support system of some sort, just find some help locally. I need a trainer. I need someone, and want desperately for someone to just come to the house every day and kick my ass into gear. Make me work out. Make me do it no matter what kind of fit I throw or tantrum I have. I need someone like that. And I need an exercise bike. Something to work out with. But it’s virtually impossible to find one that will sustain my weight. Mom and I thought we found one not long ago, but it didn’t work out. It never works out.

I talked to Julie a little bit about her letter, finally. It took me a while to be able to talk about it at all. I wasn’t mad at her for anything she said, just hurt about it a little. Just feeling depressed and exposed. I feel her hopelessness growing and it’s exactly the opposite of what I need from her. But how am I supposed to expect her to have hope? I’m a big fat loser who never does what he says. I have a bad temper. I can’t stay motivated. I lie, still, about what I eat. I don’t know why she still loves me at all. But she’s trying really hard to find me help. I love her for that, but I feel like I’m disappointing her even more every day. I don’t call her very often because I don’t want to talk to her about ME anymore. I don’t want the conversation to end up where it always does…on my diet, my exercise, my plan, my efforts – or lack of them, my sleeping patterns, how much I lay in bed. I don’t want to talk about it anymore! I don’t want to be THIS anymore. Some days I consider killing myself, but those days aren’t really very often. I just want so bad to disappear sometimes, and even try and will myself to have a heart attack. I want Mom and Julie to have the lives they deserve. I want to have a life too, but if I can’t have that, then maybe at least THEY can, without me around. I feel miserable. All the time.

I did actually look at the ranch website the other day. It looks like a pretty cool place, actually. But it freaked me out to think of going there. What if I went there and Mom and Julie never came to see me? What if they just went on with their lives, without me, and forgot about me? What if I died there? Most people don’t really know what they’re in for when it comes to caring for me. I have a bad temper sometimes, mostly because of the pain, and the pain pills. I can’t control myself sometimes, and I say the meanest things. What if I got kicked out? What if I couldn’t do what they needed me to do? The whole idea scares the shit out of me, and there’s got to be a way to do this at home. I’ve got to find a way. But, God, I’m tired. And, God, I hurt. All the way to my soul and back, I hurt.

Tomorrow I’m going to start boxing Vlad, my rubber boxing statue. He helps me get out my aggression, he’s the only work out I can handle right now, and only for a few minutes at a time. Tomorrow, I’m going to make a new plan. I’ll make a healthy grocery list, make some phone calls, try to find another exercise bike, and make Julie proud. Tomorrow, I’ll get on it, and stay motivated. Tomorrow is another day, and I look forward to it. I’ll make it happen…tomorrow.