Good news

For all the five people that are reading this blog, I’ve been going to the gym and exercising fairly regularly since my last post.

It’s been feeling good and I’m kind of getting into it. I’ve noticed that I’m making “working out” more of a priority. Easy, considering I’m out of work and have 16 hours of free time during the day. We’ll see how important physical activity is once I get a job.

I do feel better during and after exercising which makes it easier  to go. I’ve even surprised myself by going to the gym, or biking, even when I was dirt-bagged tired. Remarkably, I felt better afterwards. It’s like I was rewarded for my efforts–thank you brain.

Unfortunately, I haven’t seen a great net loss of weight. I seem to be fluctuating a lot–a result of eating really “well” on one day and then “poorly” on others. I blame it on my current inability to control myself when I’m socializing.

I just have to keep at it…

That’s all, not a very exciting post, I know.

Starting over (again)

I went to the gym yesterday after a 2-1/2 month lapse. Like most people, it’s a struggle doing “healthy” things and I’m no different.

I had made a deal with myself the day before, promising myself I would go to the gym. No questions asked. The morning came and my desire to go never manifested.

Fortunately, going to the gym was on my to-do list. And while I was in serious negotiation with myself to not go, I realized that even though I didn’t want to do it, I would feel more proud of myself if I did go.

So there I went. To the gym.

Signed in. Locked my bag up. Put my music on.

Wasn’t entirely sure what I was going to do but figured I should start doing what I had done in the past. I knew I didn’t have a lot of energy so I cut out the intense cardio and just went to the weights, which, oddly enough, I don’t mind doing.

After 1 minute, I knew I really wasn’t in to it. I wanted to stop.

A little conversation I had in my head:

“Keep going.” I do one more set.

“Don’t want to do this.”

“Keep going.”

“I reaaaallly don’t have the energy to do this.”

“OK. Finish this set and go home.”

Time elapsed at the gym: 7 minutes.

Guilt or shame: 0

I went. And that’s what matters. Next time I go, I’m pretty sure I’ll have more energy and can work a bit harder.

I read a wonderful article about “starting over” in Yoga Journal a while ago and it made a big difference in my life.

For those of use that are chronically depressed or under-achievers, starting over is our saving grace. We can’t give up. We can only start over.

And yesterday, I started over.

How to make yourself (more) depressed

Step one: Look for work online.

Step two: Apply for job.

Step three: Write cover letter.

(As you write your cover letter, reflect on your previous work experience and the past 10 years of your life since you’ve moved to this city. Don’t forget to compare yourself to others: friends, family, younger work mates, etc. )

Holy hell…how is that I have not made ANY progress in my life? Clearly I am not a very ambitious person and I don’t think very highly of myself.

What’s a better way to say on your cover letter:

“My bosses think I’m nice, my co-workers enjoy working with me, and overall I try to do a really good job and not waste your time. I also stay late. As you can see, I’m not very ambitious. I spend a lot of time daydreaming about doing something really important but lack that psychic energy to back it up. So, instead, I focus too much energy on being liked at work and doing a good job. I think you should hire me because I will say “yes” to you. That’s what you really want, isn’t it?”


I’m here…

I’m still here. In case you’re wondering.

My father passed away recently, after a short illness. I don’t feel depressed at the moment–just relief. Even though he wasn’t in a lot of pain, he suffered.

I learned this spring that dying isn’t easy. I had never heard of terminal restlessness before… how is that possible? Why are we not talking about it?

It is very stressful to watch someone you love go through such a painful process. From what I’ve read, Dad’s was on the milder side. Still, it was difficult to witness.

Now, it is time to move on. We’ve know that Dad wasn’t going to be cured; these past few months, I always thought about when the end would come and what it would look like. Those thoughts would constantly run in the background, making it difficult to focus on what was in front of me. Naturally I had difficulties thinking of the future and making plans. I suppose it’s time now to get back in the game. The tough part is that I was never really in the game.

Work is slow which means I’m only going in to the office one day a week. On one hand, I’m embracing all this time off. However, I know I’m going to hole up in my apartment (by myself) and watch TV for too many hours in the day–not exactly the best thing for my mental health.


Powerful image I thought I would share


I’m sure the artist is not the only person to feel this way.

Original post from Imgur.

My word of the day

Word of the Day

Word of the Day

I see a lot of people stating what their word of the day / week / month / year is. It’s usually ideas like gratitude, love, forgiveness, focus, etc. All worthwhile causes on which to meditate and perhaps to endorse.


I’d like to add my word: edit.

I think it’s funny that I choose this word because I have a tendency to go on when I tell stories (one guy that I worked with called them “Betty (my name) stories”. It didn’t occur to me several years later that I was known for my story-telling “style”. I have a flair for “spinning a story” as it may, but I also have difficulty leaving out the details and getting to the point. To me, details are everything, even if I don’t remember them accurately.

I digress. (Of course).

Most people’s stories (including my own) are not really that interesting. I also think that we’re not really that interested in listening to what other people have to say. For one, we’re so busy listening with our own judgements and second, we’re so desperate to tell our own story that we’re reluctant to really listen to what others have to say.

The exception comes when the stories involve celebrities, to which there is endless fascination with the beautiful and the reckless. Think TMZ, People Magazine, or good heavens, Jersey Shore.

Want to keep me interested? Get to the point. I want to hear your story, I think it’s interesting but get to the point or at least ask me questions. See me squirming in my seat? It’s physically impossible for me to listen any longer! Give me a chance to ask questions. Better yet, ask me if something similar has happened to me. Get me involved. There are 7 billion people on this planet. We all have stories to tell!

What am I doing wrong?

I find it weird, a bit amusing, and slightly unnerving that I’ve tried getting in touch with professional help and I’m still empty-handed.

Twice now, I’ve emailed two different psychologists and followed up with a phone call. Neither of them called me back.

Do you really think that in both cases, both psychs did not receive my emails AND phone calls? I find that hard to believe.

I wonder if I come off as too crazy to help? Don’t you find it strange though? I mean, what are the chances?

A big step in treating depression and anxiety is realizing that you need professional help. Don’t suffer alone. Get professional help. You see that on bus shelters and in newspaper ads all the time.

So, I decide that I can’t do it on my own and I’m reaching out and no one is getting in touch. Not even a phone call saying I can refer you to someone else!

To be honest, this is the first time this has happened and I don’t believe it’s indicative of the entire profession. In the past, I’ve called and met with different therapists. Alas, when I really need someone now, I can’t seem to find that help.

It takes effort to reach out.

Maybe this week, I’ll try again. Surely, there is someone out there that can help me manage this.

Do you throw out your journals?

I’m debating whether I should toss my journals from the past 20 years or so. There aren’t many of them so it’s not a matter of storage. My biggest concern is, what happens to those words after I die? Will whoever cleans up my belongings, read them?

I don’t feel relief when I go through those books. I’m embarrassed and ashamed, to be honest. I’m still struggling with the same issues and haven’t made any progress.

I have also said some not-so-nice things about others.

Oh wait, I have made some progress I guess. I’m not blaming others for my misery; I’m taking full responsibility baby. People that are close to me, friends and family, have hurt me. Their words, actions and even non-actions burned indelible impressions in my psyche. But, I’ve forgiven them all. I know they love me unconditionally and they did the best they could. I’m sure I have hurt those same people in return through my own words, actions and non-actions (ie, what I didn’t do).

There is a chance I will live another 30, 40 years. However, should I be smoked by a bus tomorrow, what are the consequences of those words, should anyone read them?

I’d rather not have anyone know how miserable I’ve been throughout my life – I’ve been able to keep up the facade so far.

What about you? Toss or keep?

My thinking… my thoughts..

are so fucked.

It’s one thing to have crazy weird thoughts, it’s another to knowing how crazy, weird and irrational my thoughts are. Metacognition in action.

The irrational side wants to end it all. The rational side is saying “Whoa, the reasons for ending it are silly. Settle down.”

The shitty thing is, I’m having difficulties controlling either of those voices. The irrational voice (with its cousin, the anxiety night monster) gets too loud sometimes and I worry  it will take over. I have to remember that my family and friends don’t deserve pain like that.

Short of a lobotomy, I know I should probably see a professional. I rarely find relief because I don’t feel the therapists really hear me. Granted, I probably don’t explain myself that well either.

I wish I could just evaporate… Have I said that before?


Struggling… struggling…

I’m still here, in case anyone is wondering.

On auto-pilot.

Just getting through the day(s).

If I could hang on for another 6 weeks, I might be able to make some more positive changes. Like exercising, for example.

The anxiety monster visited last week. I could feel its presence coming into the room, before it quickly took over my body and mind. As I was getting ready for bed, I felt it slowly creep up my legs, tighten around my arms and finally suppress rational thinking. It held me hostage until the morning. Fortunately, after my shower, I felt it release its grip and retreat a bit. I made it to work.

God, I’m so tired.

It’s difficult to make plans, to feel positive, in this state. It’s difficult to see a future. Very depressing.

I can’t move forward when I’m in this state which I find incredibly frustrating.