I have spent the last couple days indulging the hell out of my depression and today has probably been the worst of all. I’m reaching the point where a piece of me is enjoying the familiarity of sadness and ennui and actively battling against taking the proper steps to work through and out of this growing pit.
Coming down with that tiniest bit of a cold last week combined with the rainy weather this week has me completely off my daily walks even though I have access to a treadmill and a YouTube playlist full of yoga, cardio, and strength training videos. Sleep has also either eluded me (insomnia) or I’ve neglected to make it a priority (fear-of-insomnia) all week this week.
I keep justifying these poor self-care choices by telling myself, “At least you’re not smoking!”
Well, yes, at least there’s that.
…oh, yes, by the way… I quit smoking. 27 days ago, in fact. It’s going really well! I’m really fucking proud of myself! I’m all buying into the process of it… the mantras… the implementation intentions… all of it. It’s hard and I still have cravings here and there… mostly when I’m feeling like this or drinking heavily or both… but, overall, I’m really happy with my decision to quit.
Okay, okay, great. So, that’s really super. But continuing to honor my commitment to myself to quit smoking does not justify being crappy to myself otherwise.
My plan is to go for a long walk despite the rain later today and maybe, like, go to bed at a decent hour even though it is a Friday night and Friday nights are generally reserved for alcohol and staying up too late… but… yeah… also, like, maybe get up in the morning and maybe walk some more or hike a trail or some such physical activity type thing. Despite the rain. Despite. The. Rain.
Writing this out has really helped. I’m feeling a little less sorry for myself. Thank you, Reader, for indulging my down-ness so that I might process and move past it.