It is near Christmas, so I am not doing well. Christmas is so stressful for many reasons. My mom is always extremely stressed at Christmas time which doesn't help. My grades are due at school; my schedule changes, and transitions are very difficult. I'm screaming inside my head right now, basically. I just sent an email to Salon to pitch a story idea. It's a long shot, but eventually I will be published in Salon. I could also fix my entries to go along with The Appalachian Trials. That is another option that I haven't taken yet. I get a terrible pit in my stomach whenever I think about writing. I think it is something that I must do. I'm not sure why I think that, especially if it is going to make me anxious. Is it just a leftover dream from my childhood? I don't know. On the up side, I weighed myself after 11 days, and my weight was around 172.6. That's exciting. For my height, I can be up to 160 pounds, so I'm getting closer. I have maintained this weight for months now. My goal is to get down to 150 pounds, so that it can fluctuate from 150 to 155. I've been doing some stress eating, but it has greatly improved.
The hard part about feeling depressed is that it is difficult to write. When I give myself a second of time to think, I start looking at my surroundings finding sadness in everything. I look at the window frame of houses I pass, and something about the stillness, lack of people, lack of noises in the house makes me feel the emptiness of the house. This is a house that I am walking by or running by. I feel my head clean out as I start running, and hopefully I get to a part of the running or walking up forty flights of stairs that brings a focus on just the physical exertion. This helps my mind start to repair some of the damage that depression is causing moment by moment by moment. The words don't flow out like they should. I can't quickly recall names because of the Wellbutrin. The Buspar that I take two times a day barely takes the edge off. The Effexor- well if I forget to take my Effexor, my eyes hurt. There are electric flashes in my head. It feels like I have a terrible flu. Nothing makes it go away except getting somewhat drunk. I don't drink anymore at all because drinking is a depressant. Not to mention the alcoholics in my family. I don't want to be any part of that. Too many people that I love and who are a part of my life drink too much. I can't do something that is guaranteed to make me feel bad in the morning- especially when my natural chemicals inside my brain can make me do that all by myself. I need no help with this, no help at all.
I have been very proactive about doing everything I can do to feel as good as I possibly can. I have exercised every day, every single day. I am taking all my meds on time (of course). I have an appointment with my therapist tomorrow and my health coach tomorrow. I make lists. I try to tell myself "if it isn't happening RIGHT NOW, it IS NOT happening." As my mind spirals, I tell myself, "STOP." It repeats. "Stop" Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. I put up an invisible wall to help my thoughts from spiraling. They spiral any way.
I went to my daughter's violin recital and felt guilty that I am not helping her practice more. I felt guilty that I didn't read them a story last night, that I felt exhausted and helpless by 9:00 PM and went straight to bed where I slept for as many possible hours as I could because then I don't have to be awake for those hours- during those hours I don't have to fight the feelings off, the spiral of self hatred, the spiral of what I have done wrong, the list of things that I have to do. Which means that I can not do many, many of the things I am supposed to do. I see people when I have to because that is a rule I have for myself: you have to go to things you are invited to. I do not want to go. Hardly ever. But I must go. I listened to Jenny Lawson the other day on The Hilarious World of Depression. Her excessive, spiraling thoughts and anxiety are so much worse than mine. Why can't I cut myself some slack and stop it? It makes me angry that I have depression. I feel angry that I have to fight it. I only feel okay if I am in the middle of a sprint or at the top of the 42nd floor at The Marriott where I climb the stairs. Before is just the anxiety of how will I run? Will I run? Will I actually do it? How many minutes will I wait before I start? I have free time at 10:30. Will I do it? Will I? Will I do the only thing that can save myself?
The goal, obviously would be to run first thing in the morning- before anything- before Santa, before talking, before existing, running to power my mind. I ran/walked a half marathon on Saturday. It helped. Before that, I had walked up the stairs on Friday. It helped a little, but only a little, not as much as it usually does because I felt like too many hours had passed between exercising, between wringing the demons from my brain. I scream inside my mind again. Nervousness and anxiety at each transition, finishing a class, starting a class, kids getting home from school, getting kids from school, interacting with my family, interacting with my immediate family. Can I be present? Can I be there? Can I be normal? Am I too harsh, too what? It was exhausting and demoralizing how terrible I felt when we had to decorate the tree. I didn't know how I was going to get through that day. I had run a half marathon the day before which is usually enough to give me some residual strength. However, it wasn't quite working. I texted my mom/dad/Juli. It helped somewhat.
My said, "You have a terrible illness; people did from it. Pull yourself together."
"Really?" I thought to myself, "Oh, I hadn't thought of that." Here comes the inner scream again. My niece is supposed to be here any minute now, so I'm wrapping this up. Thanks for listening internet.
