After my latest rant about not doing what I need to be doing, I received some really amazing messages from some of you who take time to care about me. I was asked if I’ve ever experienced depression, and the answer is most definitely yes. I know what depression feels like, but there’s a different word for what I’m experiencing now.
I remember the pain I felt during a period of depression in my life. I remember how hard it was to wake up and to go outside. I remember crying just because. I remember what life was like as a late teen in Oklahoma. I drove around one afternoon/evening trying to figure out how I could kill myself without it hurting too much.
I remember wondering if Tylenol would do the trick and deciding that it would probably just make me sick. I sat at the lake for hours, contemplating locking the doors and driving the car into the water. I remember feeling completely isolated and and hopeless. When I looked into the future, I couldn’t see my 25th birthday or my 30th birthday. I just wanted to disappear, and for a long time I let the horrible outside circumstances that I was experiencing steal my joy.
At one point I decided to go to therapy, and I learned a lot about exogenous depression. I learned that the horrible things I was dealing with at the time (things that I will never share here out of respect for my family) were the cause, but it would be years before I allowed myself to move past them.
Eventually (through therapy) I began to heal and forgive, and it started becoming easier to climb out of bed. But somewhere during that period, I became obese too. I leaned on food when I felt like nothing else was there. I had trouble recalling those times, and some of that time period (in my late teens and early 20’s) still feels like a blur.
I hated myself for a long time. I hated the world. I hated myself. I was mad at everyone around me, mad at God, mad at myself. I lied to myself about it, pretended to be so much more than I was because in my mind I was nothing.
I know what depression feels like, and this isn’t it. I think the right word for how I was feeling yesterday is frustrated. Unlike that period of time in which I was miserable and lonely and hopeless, I have so much joy now. I have peace too and hope. I love my life, my family and myself, and even though life isn’t perfect, I wake up so thankful for the life that I have.
I’ve been blessed with so much more than I deserve, but I still get frustrated when I realize that I’m not doing all that I can do to make myself healthier and stronger. I mean, I’ve been a gym regular for four years. I should have this crap figured out by now, and I do. It’s implementing the food choices that’s hardest for me.
I don’t want to be obese. (Does anyone?) I love myself now more than I ever have, but sometimes I have to kick my own butt. Sometimes I have to look at my situation, then look at myself in the mirror and throw a tantrum. After my rant yesterday I hit the gym hard, and I felt better than I have about my health in a few weeks.
I believe therapy can work and that most of us could find something to talk about and work on if we had the opportunity. I could definitely benefit from therapy now, but I have no plans to go until the fall (when my health insurance will pay for it again.) My blog is my therapy for now, and I can’t tell you how much it means to me that there are people in this world rooting for me, caring for me in spite of my ridiculous flaws.
There’s no easy fix here. What’s required for my success (in getting fit) is time, strength and consistency. I know that. I know. I know. I know. I feel better about the choices I am making today, and right now, that’s enough.