Today I went for a 30 minute walk. I hadn’t exercised in weeks and now my butt and hamstrings are a little sore. Ha. That’s kind of pathetic, but it is what it is.
I just got off the phone with my new psychiatrist. I’m proud of myself for calling him. Especially since I didn’t want to. I really didn’t want to but a voice said,
Just. call. him.
Not an audible voice, just to make that clear. It was my own voice reminding me that I haven’t been doing well.
Ugh, FINE. I said back. Out loud to emphasize my exasperation with myself. And then I picked up the phone.
My psychiatrist said that I should go back to my regular dose tonight and call him on Thursday for an update. He might introduce another medication that has helped me in the past with depression.
On my first meeting with him (which was this last Tuesday) we dropped the dosage of the med I started in December (when I was having suicidal thoughts) because going down in dosage could help with the lack of motivation I was feeling. I know, counter-intuitive, but with this medication sometimes less is more.
But since dropping the dose down I’ve been feeling a lot of emotional pain. Pain I haven’t felt since December when I first started taking this new med. And feeling so alone. Even when I’m not alone. I’ve been crying a lot. I hurt.
I wrote it out a little while ago, words just for myself. Maybe the medication just numbs the pain that’s inside and I just feel it more with the dosage is down. I think that’s true. I think I have a lot of pain inside.
I know this because when I start feeling like I’m truly being myself I feel pain that things aren’t as I want them to be. And that hurts.
There isn’t a lot I can control right now. And the things I can control seem meaningless.
So, on Thursday my new psychiatrist might be adding another medication that in the past really helped with my depression but also made me hypomanic at the time. I’m willing to give it a shot because I’ve never taken it with the mood stabilizer I’m on so maybe it’ll work without having that effect. Regardless of what I do I’m going to be on a wild roller-coaster of emotions if we try changing anything, that much is clear.
I’m being a bummer right now, but I’m also being candid, and I’d rather be that on my blog than falsely projecting a positive vibe. Primarily, because I know that some people reading this will be able to relate and they’ll feel less lonely. That is enough.
For proof that I went for a walk here is a picture of a family of geese:
Aren’t the goslings adorable?
Of course, this isn’t real proof as I could have taken this picture at some other time, or someone else could have taken the shot. You’ll just have to take my word for it. I really did go for a walk today and encounter these geese.
Now that I’ve gone for my walk I feel I have no other goals for today and I’ve still got another, like, 5 hours until bedtime. I think I’m going to see how far I can get in the book I’m reading.
I’m trying not to beat myself up. What is particularly difficult at the moment is that I promised myself I’d be in better physical shape at 40 than when I was 30.
It just occurred to me that I’m going to be 40 in 6 months. What? WHAT.
At 30 I was overweight, but now I’m even more overweight. Then at 33/34 I was at a healthy weight because I was on a mission to be slim so I got there. Then I ballooned back up.
Medication. Shoving food into my mouth to numb my pain. Lack of food preparation. Fast food. Lack of discipline. Not caring how I look. All of the above.
So if I don’t get into significantly better shape in 6 months I’ll be failing myself. I know how to do it but don’t think I have what it takes to do it. Is knowing I’ll hate myself enough to motivate me towards action? It’s doubtful.
Then again, having a goal with specific ways to measure progress, might be good for my mental health (and of course my physical health). Maybe if I can find some way to motivate myself that isn’t shame I can make some healthy progress and be proud of myself, even if I don’t reach my goal.
The way I can reach my goal is to eat low-carb, seriously weight-train at least every other day and do 45 minutes to an hour of cardio every day. That’s how I got to be fit at 33/34.
Walking isn’t going to cut it. Sigh.
What does ‘better shape’ even mean, anyway? I don’t know how much I weighed at 30, nor my body fat percentage then, nor my exercise regime (if I had one), nor my nutrition, nor any other means to measure one’s health.
What was I even thinking or feeling back then? I’m going to write another post about this. Maybe a letter to my 30 year-old self or something. She had some serious issues. Not that nearly-40 year old me doesn’t have issues, but I’ve made a little bit of progress in some areas. Yes, Quixie, this is a good idea for a post. Another post, not this one.
My mind is jumping around again. This post is all over the place, just like I am. Expect more of it until I can get myself sorted out.
Thanks for reading, my friends.
To end this post I’m going to share a song I heard of the radio on the way home, and decided I liked. Enjoy!