Weight, exercise and that thing called depression.

Exercising when you are depressed is unbelievably hard. But it is true that exercise releases endorphins and is therefore beneficial to anyone suffering depression.

As someone who has been largely housebound for the last three and a half years, but a previous super fit gym addict, my fitness was the final remnant of normality I strived to hold onto. But eventually failed.

It has been hard. So hard, and largely I have been fighting a losing battle. As often as I can fight the depression and the negative demons in my head, I drag myself into a lonely and certainly not air conditioned kitchen..put on some upbeat tunes and do the best I can. Often a long mental battle occurs before I get there, and more often the depression wins and I don’t get there at all.

It hurts to think that three and a half years ago I was super fit and for the first time ever I was OK with my figure. As shallow as that might sound, my entire life since about 9 years old has been obsessed with trying to change my figure. And that’s the headspace I find myself back in right now.

The other thing this loathsome depression has made me do is comfort eat. And gain weight. Because, quite frankly I could exercise every day, but if I’m eating more calories than I’m expending the resulting outcome will be this wobbly blob I currently despise.

I am one of countless people who struggle with their weight. I can’t stand when naturally thin people say things that are judgemental of the overweight. The relationship with food is so often much more than what on paper is so damn simple. It is an emotional addiction. It is plastering over something so much deeper.

Weight loss on paper is a mathematical equation. You merely need to create a calorie deficit by means of healthy eating or exercise, but ideally a mixture of both working together. It sounds so simple. A deficit of 3500 calories will lose you one pound of fat. But when your head and emotions are the obstacle.. It becomes less simple.

I do know what I have to do. I know how to do it and that I have done it before. But what i don’t know is how to stop my comfort eating and how to motivate myself when I feel so low. I’m going to give it my best shot.

I have reached a point of self loathing that could be my new motivation.. I got to the gym on Tuesday for the first time since dad’s diagnosis last October. It was hard, but thanks to the times I have managed to drag myself into the kitchen and workout, I still have a basic fitness level from which I can work. The first time is the hardest. That is done. I plan to go again tonight if I can work past this heavy low feeling. I’m really tired so will probably try and get a sleep first.

My current weight is 10 stone 7.5 (147.5lb). I’ve decided to tell you this so that I can take you on my new journey of exercise and diet until I get back to my ideal weight. Because I will do it. I will. PMA

These Skin and Bones – poem

I could write a million poems
Crafted carefully of words so old
Speak softly in the voice God gave
But still my truth would not be told

Some things we simply can’t convey
That dwell within our heart and soul
Pushed in this world, alone we bow
With endless longing to be whole

I heard her say that happiness
Is waking joyful to exist
Oh love – the only key to this
My eyes are shut when I am kissed

We’re people made of candle wax
Though light I shine is wasted here
I long to just be noticed too
I dance around but hide in fear

Let’s sing a pretty song to end
Sad notes and painful undertones
Hope someday through the mist of time
You’ll understand these skin and bones

Today in various hospital departments

Today began with a hospital visit dropping back my sleep apparatus. Then home, at some point in the afternoon I could not stay awake any longer and had a nap. I planned to do a workout early evening, and was just putting my trainers on when Dad asked me to take his temperature. He’s had a virus, I took it and it was high. So workout cancelled.

This evening and another hospital visit with dad. Usual checks before they decided he was fine to go home. Exhausted.

Night peeps x

After an upsetting yesterday, which I won’t go into, today was so good. My mum was too unwell to celebrate mothers day until now, so finally we got out for a meal. It was a beautiful day and we were all enjoying it..

Out of the blue my brother said he had a ticket to go and see the ladyboys of bankok. I came up with every excuse, but they persuaded me to go. It was amazing and I had the best night I’d had in years. It was the first time I had danced and felt free in years. It a amazing

Mess (poem)

Look here i stand
Dark clothes in dark shadows
And in this peace
My head is thumping loudly
Saying to me
Over and again..

Girl, you’re a mess
Nobody ever liked you
They could not care less
Cos you’re a mess
Just look at you
You look so fat and ugly
Wearing that dress
You dirty mess

There must be more than this..

Life has an unlikely way of feeling both underwhelming and overwhelming at the same time. Small tasks and decisions are too much for me, and yet I yearn to be alive. To live.

I want to be alone, and yet the pain of loneliness kills me on a daily basis. Every song, film or television programme.. Every Facebook post, even just sitting in the garden hearing the neighbours together socialising, enjoying barbecues of a warm evening. I’m always on the outside looking on. That is how my entire life has felt.

I’m in this rut, this self created prison. My entire existence is governed by fear, longing and self loathing. I crave to be loved, but I cannot see myself as lovable. I can’t imagine trusting someone enough to allow them an important part of my life, the mere thought of that makes me feel my vulnerability and causes me to retreat.

Even friendship is alien to me. Sure I’ve had friends over the years, but they have only been people I see here and there rather than close friends who would notice if you are unhappy. The ones I ever did get close to abandoned me eventually, and the pain is not something I want to ever risk repeating.

The only two people I’ve ever known would always be there and who truly cared are my mum and dad. Now Dad has cancer and Mum is not in good health and waiting for a hernia operation. I’m scared. No, terrified.

I don’t remember the last warm physical contact I had. My entire being craves to be held in someone’s sheltering arms. I wish someone could break down the walls I have around me and show me that life can be good. Because there must be more than this.