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

The Journey

The train left without me, I’m not sure where it was headed exactly.. but it seemed to be where everyone else wanted to go, so I tried to get on board. It was just too full and I couldn’t fit in. I found myself battered, bruised and thrown back out.

So there I stood confused amongst the dust that rose in its wake, abandoned on the empty platform as the train sped away. I stared briefly before composing myself and dusting myself down. That was when I could see that my destiny was to walk a slow and lonely journey without fellow travellers.

It dawned on me that although my way would be different from theirs – less certain and often quite exhausting – it may be that I was the lucky one. I would have time to see things of beauty that would whizz past their windows. I would be able to spare time to stop and help other lone travellers, and perhaps hear their unique stories. I would have time to love in a different way. And as I set off on my journey, I realised that my baggage would only hinder me, so I threw it away and travelled empty handed.. stripped back down to how I once had arrived. FREE

Negative thoughts and me

I go to bed every night thinking I’ve wasted another precious day. I wake up every morning thinking not another fucking day. That’s my routine. I wake up feeling crap, my eyes hurt, my head hurts and I never want to leave my bed. The things I used to enjoy no longer grab me. Nothing does. I don’t know if there’s any fight left in me. The tasks I would have to undertake to ever live a normal life seem insurmountable to me. Overwhelming. To achieve any of them, I would surely need the will to live. But I seem to have mislaid that shit.

I feel sad a lot. I hate myself a lot. And as always that loneliness doesn’t let up. Yet recently I’ve been avoiding any human contact.. I see I’m not helping myself.. But everything just feels so pointless. I haven’t left the house in ages.

On the most part, Dad is doing well. I’ve been avoiding thinking about his illness as much as I can. I’ve been avoiding everything as much as I can.

I hate that I keep hearing Dad on the phone telling people it is terminal. I don’t want to go there, it’s more than I can bear. When the dreadful time comes.. Unless some miracle happens in the near future.. I think I will have to check out too. God knows.

It might be OK if perhaps one thing had worked out in my pathetic life. Career? Friends who truly care? And oh love, the pièce de résistance. The thing I craved my entire life. Love. Not to mention children, who to me could only be a by-product of aforementioned love.

I believe I had a lot of love to give. I believe I might have been a good mother. I believe my life had so much promise once, all of which I wasted.

I long to wake up one day with a spring in my step and a renewed sense of hope. A new zest for living.

One can but dream..