It’s almost noon. Day 3 of a 4 day weekend. There is so much
that could have been accomplished by now, but instead I’ve been forcing myself back
to sleep, since it’s the only place the anxiety can’t get to me.
It was a relief the first time someone said, “You have major
depression.” At least it validated that there was something wrong with me—even if
I couldn’t make it go away, this isn’t the way I’m supposed to feel, and there
are ways to cope.
Anxiety is a symptom of my depression, but some days it
feels like it’s the star player. All the “what ifs?” and “why bothers?” can
just turn into a vicious unstoppable cycle.
“I really should have cleaned the apartment
last weekend.”
“I haven’t worked out in over a week; I’ll
never be able to get back on track.”
“I was doing so good--why am I like this?
Why can’t I keep it together?”
Still, I get out of bed. The past three days I’ve focused
on keeping myself occupied that I forgot to eat until 1-2pm. At least I can get
a breakfast in today. Veggies, Eggs, I can make something fairly healthy; maybe
this is the day I can start over again.
“You’re only going to get off track again.”
I start chopping garlic, onion, tomato—it sounds silly
but chopping ingredients has always been therapeutic to me. Knowing that I can
transform and combine the ordinary into something flavorful is truly
satisfying. The best feeling is when I get the mise en place (“everything in its
place”) just right; I might not have control over everything in my life, but at
least perfecting this one process gives me a boost in my mood.
Meanwhile, I decide to start a batch of chicken stock. I’ve
been making my own vegetable stock out of scraps for months, so I was glad to
have a leftover chicken carcass to try a new savory flavor. I combine the
chicken with a bag I had already started for veggie stock and a few spices—I love
when I find opportunities to become more sustainable. Ideally, I would really
like to begin composting someday.
“Who are you kidding? You’re never going to follow
through. Think of the mess you’ll make.”
My breakfast is finally done. To my surprise, everything
turned out perfect. No overdone onions, no underdone tomatoes, and the spinach
was perfectly wilted. A quick taste verify that the seasoning was spot-on;
switching to kosher salt a few months ago was definitely the way to go, and
adding a dash of basil? Brilliant.
Quickly I plate in an appealing wide blue bowl. I get my
phone ready and take a photo near several of my windows looking for just the
right light.
I started a weight loss/fitness Instagram several months
ago, and it has done wonders for my confidence/staying on track. It’s easy to
read fitness blogs and hear from people who have been fit/healthy every single
day of their lives, but surrounding people who are at all stages of their
progress makes my journey feel more real/attainable.
Finally I find the right light in my living room, and
after applying a quick filter, it’s ready to post. Just need to optimize with a
few select #hashtags, and it’s posted within seconds. Quickly the usual handful
of people “like” my photo—I’m not sure if they actually reading/enjoying the
context or are just mindlessly liking down their feed, but that’s social media
for you.
“If only those people knew how messy your
house was…”
I look around. Clean laundry scattered around my living
room, wondering if it will ever make it to a closet. My brand new coffee table
is already scattered with miscellaneous knick-knacks, many of which could easy
be recycled. My kitchen, one of the places that make me feel most whole is a
complete disaster. Dishes pile up in the sink, the garbage and recycling needed
to be taken out at least two days ago, and my floor needs to be wiped of
kitchen masterpieces that have long since been enjoyed.
“This is impossible. How can I possible clean
AND workout AND make dinner today? I should just go back to sleep….”
The dishes should only take about ten minutes, and once I
take out the recycling sweeping should be fairly easy. I always have tomorrow
to mop. At least the bathroom’s clean, it could be worse.
“But…”
I could easily throw chicken and veggies in the slow
cooker before I head to the gym, and the gym is open until 7 anyways.
“I suppose…”
What I really need to do with my laundry is see what
needs to be donated before I put everything away. I bet I could get rid of a
good number of items, and doing laundry won’t be that big of a hassle going forward.
“…..”
Here I am, although my eggs are now cold my mood has elevated and I have a plan in
hand. Depression and Anxiety may be something I live with the rest of my life
but when I focus on the smaller battles rather than a lifelong war, I think I’ll
do just fine.
