climbing out
December 06, 2005,

I have pretty much spent the 6 weeks in touch-and-go mode. I was working up to quite the depressive episode. For some reason, though, I feel marginally better right now. And I�m trying to carpe the diem and pull myself out of harm�s way.

The nature of depression will bug me to the end of my days. It is such an insult to the rational part of me, you know? I know exactly what I need to do to stave of the worst of the bad feelings, but I cannot seem to change my pattern of behavior when the bad stuff comes on. I can watch myself doing�or not doing�things, and know the exact outcome of my action or non-action, and I am utterly powerless to stop it. I just start to slide.

And what�s required is so simple, really! I know this to be true:
If I drink my water, eat a healthy diet, and go to the gym, my mental/emotional well-being profits every bit as much as my physical well-being.

But.

First, I start to abuse carbs. This isn�t even the first reaction to a symptom�It IS the first symptom. Carbs are my drug of choice, and what is very nearly the same thing as booze to an alcoholic. That is how I use it, too. I can drug myself unconscious with Cheezits, Famous Amos cookies and M&Ms. And I do.

The initial loss of control is followed by the bad physical feelings that result from a constant carb hangover.

This is worsened by the next thing that slides, which is my water. So now, I have an extra-dehydrated, constant hangover, chronic indigestion, I feel exhausted, it seems like I�m eating constantly, and I�m starting to be disgusted with myself.

So I stop going to the gym.

And we go into the spin. The worse I feel, the more I eat, the more I hibernate. I stop talking to friends (because I�m convinced I don�t have any), lose touch with my family (Hmph. They don�t love me anyway), lose interest in beading, movies, TV, reading, writing, stitching, net-surfing, games, music, and�well, life. My housework slides. I stop making dinner. I don�t talk to Spouse. (Like he even cares. Like he even notices.)

I cry a lot. I feel empty inside, despite eating so much junk food that I get break-through reflux.

I spend a lot of time wishing I were dead.

I spend a lot of time thinking about making that happen.

And while all this is happening, I can still get up almost every morning, shower, dress, go to work, put in a full day, come home, and deal with enough stuff to get by. Which, in my opinion, sucks. I never get any help coping, because I never look like I can�t.

I attribute the functional nature of my depression to the way I was raised, and my mom, who has the same problem, was raised, and her mom, who DIED FROM THIS SHIT, was raised. Fucking Swedish Iowa Farmers. Keep plugging, no matter what.

But I�ve been granted some kind of a ledge to catch me in my fall, and I�m really trying to reverse the process. I�m drinking my water, I�m trying desperately to curtail the eating, and today I resumed going to the gym. I�m calling my best friend tonight, and my mom tomorrow. (I haven�t talked to W since the end of September. I saw my mom at the end of October. So W first.)

I�m trying to be upbeat, take care in my appearance, keep my house clean, and decorate it for Christmas. I�m playing my Casio, and working on my beading.

I�m trying.

257 pounds.