Yes, this is yet another post where I claim I’m going to lose weight, be happy, etc, rinse and repeat.
The thing is, my depression has been so debilitating recently that even brushing my hair was too much, going in the shower sounded like an ordeal and just getting through the day was way too much to ask of me, quite frankly.
It is now less than 18 months until I hit 40, and I’m not getting any younger, literally. The thought of getting older paralyses me with anxiety and not a day goes by where I don’t suddenly remember that a) I’m going to die one day, b) I don’t know how and c) I don’t know when. These three facts then cause me to have a panic and I find it hard to focus on what I’m doing at the time.
Now, for someone so angsty about dying, you think I’d be some world expert in being healthy and staying alive as long as possible. You’d be wrong. One of the ‘lovely’ things about having depression is the total apathy you actually get about real things like “I should do more exercise so I’ll stay healthy, but… I can’t be bothered moving from my desk chair for five hours straight”. So I fluctuate between panicking that I’m not healthy enough and should do something to prolong my life, and then across to “meh, who cares?” It’s like having two warring personalities, each fighting for dominance.
Right now, the personality who wants to live as long as possible (we’ll call her Betsy – literally the first name that came to mind that I don’t know) is in control. I was eating pizza earlier and I thought to myself, “I don’t want to be fat anymore.” And that was that; the decision had been made. The depressed personality, lets call her Marjorie, is totally dormant right now.
I really hope I get to stay “Betsy” for as long as possible; she’s the fun part of me, the one who wants to live and enjoy things. Let’s see how long she lasts.