And I Guess That's Why They Call It the Blues

I've been fighting depression last night and this morning. I have a slight tendency toward depression--I don't know if I have it any more or less than anyone else, but I know the symptoms well. I don't want the emotions surrounding something, so I try to shut down--drugs and alcohol are great for that, so I know to stay away from them. I don't want to do anything but zone out, and while trying to do that, I start a list of things that I should be doing and use the fact that I'm not doing them as evidence of my worthlessness. And if I give into it, I just build on that cycle--don't do what I think I should do, feel bad about that, shut down about feeling bad, get more withdrawn, do even less, etc., etc.

I have had 2 spells of real depression. One my sophomore year of college when I got dumped badly by a boyfriend--I found out the the entire 9 months we were together, he was engaged to marry someone else. Jerk. My memory is that I spent an entire month sleeping. That can't be true, because I must have gone to work and classes, but all I remember was sleeping. Then I apparently slept my way through whatever I needed to and went on with my life.

The second time was the first year I had cancer. I had a check-up every 3 months, and every 3 months, it came back. That meant having outpatient surgery to remove the tumor. Anesthesia really does a number on me, so even though I'd have surgery on a Friday and go back to work on Monday or Tuesday, my brain didn't really start functioning until Thursday or Friday. It felt like I was going to have surgery and miss a week of work every 3 months for the rest of my life. I really didn't function well that year. I almost killed myself a few times driving my car because of my inattention. The worst time was exiting off an interstate way too fast and doing a 180 on the exit ramp. Then I had to quick turn myself around before someone else exited and hit me.

Anyway, I know what to do. Force myself to do all those things I think I should do and don't want to do. Last night, I finally forced myself to make a phone call and send an email I was supposed to make. This morning, I didn't want to get out of bed to cycle. I was rationalizing that I should take a day off or do it after work, but I knew that was not a good path to go down. I forced myself out of bed and onto my trike.

Then I had to try to force myself to be present, to engage my senses--listen to the birds, look at the trees and flowers, smell what was on the breeze, feel--well mostly what I could feel was that damn vertebrae sticking out against the back of the trike. I have been aware of it before and adjusted my position so it didn't hurt, but this morning I was hyper-aware of it.

As I have discovered many times in the past, the best way to head off depression is exercise and an hour on the bike this morning really did the trick. I can feel myself starting to sink down again this evening, so I need to force myself out again tomorrow--though tomorrow will be easier both because I made it today and because Liz will be with me.

I'm grateful that I don't have to give up the ways I'm currently exercising. Also, all the cycling seems to be really helping my left leg. I spent much of Saturday on my feet, helping to shear alpacas in the morning and taking Bennett to the zoo in the afternoon. Normally, my left leg would be hurting after either of those events. It was really swollen in the evening, but didn't hurt.Yay!




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