For me, it slowly wormed its way in and set up shop before I even really noticed. It was my bad mood, just worse. It was my PMS over-the-top emotions without the PMS. A pervasive sense of loss when nothing important in my life had changed. But it sneaked up on me; I lived like that for a long while before I even noticed the shift.
I’ve almost entirely stopped working out. In turn, I spend that time eating and drinking instead. I’ve gained twenty pounds (20!) in what feels like a heartbeat.
I had to go and buy fat jeans the other day. Yup. Shoot me now.
My therapist says that this can be attributed to the depression. That somehow because of this thing lodged in my brain, I lack the ability to make the decision to exercise on a consistent basis.
Somehow, I don’t entirely buy that, but okay. I guess it’s nice to have a reason handy if anyone were to ask why I’ve become such a fat ass.
Frankly, I think that I’ve been using it as an excuse. I’ve been depressed before and I’ve managed to train through it (and use training to help as well). And I’m starting to get annoyed with myself — this might turn out to be the biggest motivator I’ve encountered in months.
I feel a real sense of needing to make this stop: no more brooding, crying, eating, drinking, and sitting around.
I wonder if I have it in me to do this on my own?