Reading This Is Optional

I’m not looking for sympathy. I just really, really need to vent. I’m frustrated. I would love to go to the end of a spit of land and scream my head off but I don’t have the friggin’ energy. Hopefully, getting all of this off my chest will free up the few working synapses I have left in my brain so I can write blog posts on other, more interesting matters.

Since last December I have been battling the worse bout of depression I’ve ever experienced in my life. Everyday I fight tooth and nail. I fight against the suffocating, oily, black goo that is depression.

I’m taking medication for my depression and it helps but not without sacrifice. The medication causes weight gain. I’ve been very aware of my diet. For six weeks I tracked my diet religiously. I took in 1600-1700 calories per day and still managed to gain a pound a week. Every time I stepped on the scale I wanted to shout F***!!!!

I should only need to take the medication for a year. (Insert sarcasm sign) Let’s see, at a pound a week… Yep, that’s about 50 pounds. I may have titanium rods in my back but I don’t think that much extra weight would be a good thing.

It looks like my choices to get my weight gain under control might be 1) stop taking the meds 2) starve myself or 3) quit my job and start training for the Olympics.

However, for the past month I’ve been extremely run down. I chalked it up to the medication and my asthma. Yes, my asthma has been exacerbated and I usually feel overtired when I’m not moving air well. But asthma doesn’t make me lose concentration and forget my own name.

So now I have this vague sounding diagnosis of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I’m not going to run through all the symptoms because it will make me sound all that more pathetic. Let’s just say that I feel like I have a cold or the beginning of the flu EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. It makes it even that much harder to get out of bed each morning.

One of the treatments for CFS is moderate exercise. Who’s definition of moderate? I’ve been doing moderate exercise and I still managed to gain weight and develop CFS. Do I really go for option #3 above and start an intense swimming program? Right now I have such a hard time getting motivated. I don’t even have the energy to tie my shoes.

Then there are the “what if’s.” Once again, I won’t list every “what if” thought running through my mind when it comes to the CFS. Let’s just say there are a few. In any other situation I would be able to logically react to each scenario. But with depression already deeply rooted, the “what if’s” become another source of anxiety.

Fun stuff.

One more thing... Today is September 1st. Christmas is 3 months, 3 weeks, and 3 days away. If anyone mentions Christmas plans before Thanksgiving, I just might drive down to Mile Marker 0 in Key West, step into the Gulf of Mexico and start swimming.

For those of you who read through my entire rant, thank you. I actually feel better.