Mirror, Mirror. And Just Like That Off the Roller Coaster.
I really hate myself sometimes. I start doing good things for myself and moving forward and then I hit a wall, get stuck in the muck and erase any forward progress. it happens all the time. It happens with healthy eating, healthy habits, writing…you name it I will find a way to screw it up, per usual.
I can’t believe it’s been WEEKS since journaling… (not blogging.) Getting thoughts and words out of my head and on the page is therapeutic, so of course the time I need to do it most I hide.
Dammit. I’m 43 years old. How have I NOT figure out these things yet? No really? It’s embarrassing.
I don’t know how much I weigh, I haven’t stepped on the scale but I’m pretty sure the 18 pounds I lost since December has been gained—-and perhaps with extra added on.
I don’t know when the last time I wore myafter getting all excited getting a new one and then trying to get the stupid charger—and then—nothing. Again. As usual.
I don’t know the last time I took a decent walk, swim…anything aerobic. No wonder why I feel depressed and like crap. I don’t move. And even worse? This horrible aspect of my being is affecting my pups as well. I was told that Harley needed to lose weight by the vet. In time his one birth defect leg will not be able to handle extra weight and he needs to keep a trim figure. The only reason he is not trim? Me. And HWMMS. We are in charge of how much food and exercise he gets and we can’t even do that right. I know I’m killing myself slowly, but realizing I’m doing it to my poor pup who is dependent on me? Ugh. I feel like a total louse.
My work schedule has slowed down in one regard, but my to-do list is longer than ever and what do I do? As little as possible.
I watch my mom struggle sitting in the rehab home, depressed and wanting to get physically better. So what do I do? Stop by Burger King and gorge on Whoppers and Big Fish Sandwiches to dull my pain. Because being with my mom, is like looking in a mirror. All my health problems—-I’m sitting right in front of and I’m helpless to do anything about them.
Helpless. Nope. I’m not helpless. I’m just pathetic.
I honestly can’t stand how I feel and look. I know I’m in the middle of a depressive episode right now, but even when I’m not, I’m just so unhappy. All I see is a unhealthy, fat, bloated person who chooses not to make changes for the better.
I need to shake this. I can’t be this way forever. I have been this way forever. I can’t be this way forever.
I just want to cry.
I look at my mom and I want to cry. I want to cry for her. I want to cry with her. I want to cry because of her.
Mirror, Mirror…it’s like looking into the mirror. Except mom is about 60 pounds lighter than I am.
I get so ANGRY at her for not taking care of herself. And I do the EXACT SAME THING.
I look at her list of medications and think—-damn, most of these conditions are either already showing up or will be showing up in my health history.
I CAN DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT. I think about doing something about it all the time. I start with baby steps and then FAIL MISERABLY time and time and time and time and time again. How the hell is it so difficult for me to make MYSELF AND MY HEALTH A FREAKING PRIORITY?
And yes, I realize that writing these words in the midst of dealing with the BIG D means nothing. When depression exists, it hurts enough to just fake it through the day let alone try to make changes to my lifestyle.
I started figuring things out. I went to the doctor, had initial tests one…have I followed up? No. I decided I wanted to try to see a different doctor because I’m not exactly jiving with the one I switched to in town. Have I followed up? No. HWMMS has health insurance through his new job, we’ve had it for over a month. Have I made any appointments and followed through? No.
I’m just pissed right now at everything I do and that I allowed myself to once again freefall into this position. The last few years when I felt a depressive episode coming on, it was almost ALWAYS because I convinced myself I didn’t need my meds and tried to wean off of them. This is not the case right now. And yes, my mom was in an accident and that of course is a trigger, but that is called a LIFE CIRCUMSTANCE and I should be depressed and anxious and stressed and worried about it. THAT IS NORMAL LIFE. But this is not normal life depression. And it has me seriously perplexed. I’m questioning how much of this depression is my own vs sucking all the energy from my mom. (That damn emotional cord between us is strong.) I don’t know.
I don’t know, but I know that I don’t know.
Ugh. It’s driving me mad. And my head hurts trying to sort it out.
And in the meantime, I’m hiding from people as much as possible. And doing as little as I can. For self-preservation.
Baby Step One: Get Thee Out of This Funk
Baby Step Two: ?
Baby Step Three: PROFIT