8.09.2012

Depressed

I hate that word. When I write it I expect to see a teenage girl with her drapes pulled closed, lying on her bed and staring at a poster of Morrissey while listening to his sad songs. My depression is not like that. My depression is very much self inflicted and generally comes in the form of self loathing. I know right now my depression is running rampant and it's sad to think that the Prozac basically stopped working and I'm not convinced that the Zoloft has kicked in yet. Lots of people say that exercise is the answer but once the exercising is over, the thrill is gone and it's back to being in a funk.
Yesterday was a rough day. I woke up from a bad dream. Work was dreadfully slow and boring. I got weighed in and my results were disappointing at best. Then on the way home I got a call from my doctor telling me that while my bad cholesterol went down, my good cholesterol and triglycerides are high leaving him no other option than to put me on medication. "Mrs. Friday, low carbs and exercise, ok?" Well, ok. Every fucking day of the work week I eat oatmeal and salad and try to get at least 30 minutes of exercise and apparently that is not enough.
So what do I do? I drown my sorrows in beer and cookies. I do it on purpose! I intentionally sabotage myself. I was so ready to go in March, remember? Then I lost ten pounds and it all stopped. I no longer had the motivation to go to Curves as frequently. I started cheating a little more here and there by going out to eat and not sticking to one beer a night. And here I am. Depressed and chubby. "I eat because I'm fat and I'm fat because I eat. It's a vicious cycle." - Fat Bastard.
So I'm starting over on Monday. Sure I'll try a bit this week and weekend but realistically I am a giant ball of menses and I know I'm not going to give it my all. I'll have to bring gallons of water and buckets of chewing gum to work. I need to focus on eating smaller portions of better food. Snacks should be fruits and veggies and maybe not Dark Mocha Almond Kashi bars. My goal is to fit in those fucking tiny graphic tees if it kills me. You read it here. I need to do this. I need to get better.

3 comments:

Gen said...

I had to check to see who the author of this was because wow, I'm sure it could have been me!

Don't beat yourself up. You'll find your motivation and it will take a while but you'll get back into the swing of going to Curves and you'll be rocking that tiny tee in no time!

If you want motivation on the weekends, hit me up. I need to be moving and I haven't been.

And stay the fuck away from the cookies!

Andrea said...

Depression is a real, clinical thing. I think too many people misuse the term depression. What you described in the first paragraph is an emo, angsty teenaged girl being sadz.

You have diagnosed depression and it flares up from time to time.

And, like I said to you directly, you're feeding into it.

Don't make me yell at you. :)

I'm very wise, Randi.

Coodence said...

Why don't they provide you with a water cooler at work? Honestly, that seems like a basic. [insert winky face here]

Love you.