I ran 15 kilometers today, it was a 'fun run' St. Patrick's day race with a friend. I feel like my whole body is falling apart. The whole thing hurt... Only 9 miles. In october I ran a marathon with a smile on my face and today I could hardly move the 9.
But I must keep on, keeping on. If I suck it up now, I won't have to suck it in later.
That's how this has been. Little things piling up and dampening my spirit, then suddenly I am crying every day and I can hardly pull myself out of bed.
Here I am, not hungry, not wanting to exercise, crying at happy moments and sad moments on TV. I thought I was just having a hard time, but then suddenly it all clicked. This is what it means to be depressed isn't it?
There is still a light at the end of my tunnel, it just has begun to feel like the tunnel is unbearably long and it's hard to imagine making it to the other side. It isn't like I think I won't make it, quite the opposite in fact, I know I will. But in what shape? Will I even be the same person at the other side? Or will this sadness have set in and aged me incomparably.
I've admitted to Eli that I'm having a hard time, but I don't think he fully grasps what that means to me.
I have stopped cooking for him,
I have cut my exercise in half, even the stuff I have always enjoyed.
I can hardly drag myself out of bed in the mornings
I can't wait to go to bed at night.
Cleaning feels like too much. Cleaning has always been the stress relief.
So here I am. Not sinking, not floating. Just stagnant.