There's an adage about depression that's been floating around for as long as I can remember. "There will be good days and there will be bad days." Sometimes the bad days make you forget that you've made any progress at all. You feel bad for what seems like no reason. Maybe there is no reason or maybe there are so many reasons that you can't internalize them. I know that this is the third night in a row that I've skipped my run and I feel guilty. I did some conciliatory pushups but they did little to comfort me. It's not only that, though. There's been a lot on my mind, recently. I have very little job stability (which is troubling since it was so difficult for me to find something in the first place) and my future's really uncertain. In the past this was never that big of a deal because I was living on autopilot and I didn't really care. Now, I'm more concerned about my well-being and I want desperately to improve myself... which is why it's so troubling when I don't want to get out of bed.
I have made progress, though. Instead of lying in bed until the seasons change, I get up. Eventually. I acknowledged that I wasn't feeling well but I made no attempt to wallow in the depression or feel sorry for myself. I wanted to feel better and approach the day with the same kind of determination as I did only a week before. The adage is true, though. There are bad days and sometimes you can't do anything about them. I skipped the last two nights of running and felt really guilty about that. At the same time, I was filling with unimaginable dread at the prospect of going out again. It's late, I thought. It's dark and although it's not hot outside, the patented Kentucky humidity is just as miserable as ever.
But those are excuses. I haven't felt well today, but that doesn't mean I can't make an effort to pull myself out of it. I can't make myself happy through sheer force of will, but I can get out of bed, I can do some pushups, and I can go on a run. I don't have to push myself as hard as I usually do, but I have to do something. So I did. I was in the middle of typing up this entry lamenting the fact that I'd skipped my run for the third time in a row, but as soon as I typed it, I realized something. It's not too late. It's never too dark to run and walk down the road in front of my house. It was an excuse, and a flimsy one considering how many times I've done just that. So I ran for a little bit, and I walked for awhile. I came back and I showered, and I feel better. I'm not ecstatic, but I'm better than I was before. It's so important that I just put forth some kind of effort instead of throwing up my hands and sinking into bed. I'm better than that.
I want nothing more than to be healthy and fit, and yeah, I'll admit it, to look good. But it's probably even more important that I'm in good mental health. I have a lot of unresolved issues that have built up over years and years of refusing to cope with them. I can't fix them all at once or truthfully fix them at all, but it's important that I learn how to come to terms with them. On the good days it feels like I'm almost there and on the bad days I'm woefully far away, but as long as I can move the midpoint between them a little closer, I'll know I'm making progress.
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