Going Under

Depression.
It's become such a common word. Something millions of people suffer from every day.
It doesn't make me special, but it does pose a problem in my plan.

I won't insert the word severely. Not yet, anyway. I've been there, though. To the point where my doctor gently asked if I'd ever had suicidal thoughts and I suddenly burst out crying, admitting I thought about killing myself every single day.
It's gotten better. Through a year or more of medication, changing the way I let things affect me, and Faith--I've gotten better. I haven't been on medication for almost a year.

But all of a sudden, I can feel it pulling on me. I know that's what it is.
Tired all the time.
Loss of appetite. (Good for me--to a point.)
Overwhelming feelings of sadness and crying all the time for no reason.
Loss of interest in things I love.

All the signs are there. I just need to pull myself out of it.
I've got a doctor's appointment in three weeks. If I haven't snapped out of it by then, I'll get help.

Today's The Day

Once and for all, today is the day my life will change.

I woke up this morning, and it was just like any other day. I've had hundreds of days like this.

Today, however, is different. ( I hope I know. It's for good this time.)
Today, I woke up and started a diet. But it wasn't a diet. It's a way of life. And I've told myself that before--that it's got to be a "forever" kind of change. Somehow, "forever" never seems to last very long. Today is different.

Today, I got on the scale to find I weigh 244 pounds, 12 pounds more than the last time I stepped up.
Today, I looked past the root beer float ingredients still haunting the fridge in the office at work.
Today, I ignored the urge to dip into my wallet for a soda that I really, really wanted.
Today, I threw away the bag of Skittles I'd stashed away in my desk drawer and forgot about.
Today, I changed my clothes when I got home and today, I got off my butt and exercised.

So what if it was only 10 minutes? It was exercise.

Tomorrow, I will exercise again. For 11 minutes, 12, 13...In the grand scheme of things, it doesn't matter how long, as long as I do it. So tomorrow, I will do it.
I will avoid temptation.
I will be proud of myself.

And one of these days, I will stop feeling sorry for myself. I will stop hating everything about my body.
The way my face blows up like a balloon with every ounce I gain.
The way my chin seems to multiply when a camera is present.
The way my collarbone seems nonexistent and the "lovely lady hump" just below my neck on my back.
My big, huge, gigantic boobs.
My fat arms and wrists and pudgy hands.
The flab that rests above my "waist" that causes people to wonder, "Was I gone the day she told people she was pregnant?"
The bigger flab that rests below my "waist" that causes my underwear to roll down, my pants not to button, and my breath to catch when I bend over to paint my toenails.
My huge ass.
My fat thighs.
My ankles. (My God, do I even HAVE ankles?)
And my poor, poor feet, which bear the burden of holding all 244 pounds of me up.

One of these days. I will look at myself in the mirror, and actually like what I see.
But not today.

Once More, with Feeling

Did I say it last time? Did I?
Because if I did, I'm saying it again. But I mean it this time. For REAL.

Ready? Here goes.

This is it.

This is the day I make the decision to move the hell on with my life. (Okay, so I made the decision a couple days ago.) THIS is the day I tell the world about it.

It's not just my weight anymore. It's everything. EVERYTHING.
My not-so-neat house.
My less than stellar organization.
My paycheck-to-paycheck lifestyle.
My EMPTY savings account.

I'm changing everything that I hate about my life. And I'm changing it for good. I really, really am this time.

Not right this second. I'm not naive enough to believe everything will change in seconds when it took me a life time to screw things up.