I've decided to start blogging regularly.
I've always found that I'm one of those people who do it better when they do it in writing; might even have something to do with my ever-wanting to become a writer...?
I do keep a journal, where I update the main facts and grand thoughts of my life (hand-written), because my memory started to weaken about the same time I became self-conscious of my emotional traumas, while still a juniour; and it helps me keep track of how I am and how I evolve, along with immortalising my memories (which remembrance only lasts so long in my fog of a head).
But I can't do that much too often, right? Time goes on and it never waits for anyone. And I've been running against the clock a long time now.
I'm rambling, I'm sorry.
The point is, life has gotten a lot more stressful than it used to be, and I just can't keep my weight loss mentality to my own anymore; as ignoring that mentality just keeps getting easier and easier as other things come to focus.
I have to remind myself:
MY LIFE IS NOT ABOUT MY WEIGHT.
There is much to see and to do, and I must break free of my past labels. The fat kid grew up, slimmed down, mellowed out. As that kid no longer exists, I have to create a new identity for myself. That of a person reminiscent of her presence, aura and action; and not by her weight or bulk.
What life is like now:
There have been major changes and much hurt since December. I moved twice, both to another cities, but both were places I was somewhat familiar with (bro's app and family home). But no move worked and I'm considering a re-location again. Maybe I'll go back to living in Athens on my own or with my sister, or maybe I'll do Erasmus in some foreign country, I don't know. All I know is I'm not staying where I am now.
My psychiatrist suggested the first move. She didn't want me to do the 2nd move, but I felt helpless; so I "disobeyed". Haven't met her since.
My mother suggested I came back to our family house, so that they could take care of me (in case you've missed it, I've been on meds for depression and anxiety for 333 days now.
But instead, it's the other way around; I'm taking care of them- but it's not like I wasn't expecting that.
I try not to complain.
I decided to be over with some of my classes this exam period and get tested on 4 of them. I already got tested on 1 of them and think I did fairly well; but as the next date approaches my obsessions and insecurities are amplified. I'm even thinking not to get tested for that 2nd class- such is the emotional paralysis and mental numbness I'm experiencing.
But it is the only difficult class I was planning to get tested on; so if I back up now, I'll feel really bad about myself; useless and unskilled.
Since 10 days, my doc reduced my antidepressant dose, after talking with me.
He asked me: "do you feel all strong and well?" I replied "yeah, so I believe", but what I really was thinking was to try something more potent instead. This med has helped me, but as time goes by, I feel its influence less and less. I know I should have proposed that, but I can't communicate with people as well as your average jane. I have to try, and sometimes I just fail.
That new lower dose is playing havoc with my psyche now that it's the exam period, and I've almost decided to switchback to the highest dose till I see my doc again. These past few nights, I've been having crying outbreaks just before I fall asleep, and sleeping is so much tiring to accomplish. I think I need some stress reliever added to my mix too. But I dread to let the doc know. I dread the "how are you feeling" conversation. I just want to be left alone in my never-ending labyrinth of nightdreams and never wake up again, much less talk about it.
I once had a therapist who made me write instead of talking; because she realised I couldn't be approached in any different way. I'd just get into her office, suspiciously sit on my seat and say nothing. She had to figure out what was bothering me. She made the questions and I answered trying to conceal what I felt should be concealed, and talk about the less dangerous stuff. So she started giving me writing assignments about the next time i'd see her, and I remember how embarrased I felt after handing my notes on to her. Why did I write all that stuff? I'd always changed my mind about it and feel out of my comfort zone, which means it probably worked, right?
Talking about writing, it's funny how I only want to write (creatively) during the exam period, isn't that funny? I've been in a writer's block for 7 years now, it only gets worse, and the only time I seem to snap out of it is when I can't actually write????
Well, on to the health updates:
I had some bloodtests done which revealed I'm heavily deficient in vitamin D. Depression and lowering of that vitamin go hand in hand, but the medical community still can't decide which causes which. Since I'm vegan, I tried to make sure to get my daily sunshine, but as I've always been more of a nightowl, I guess I didn't do as well as I thought on that front. I was to blame my veganism too for having such low levels, but the doc said that for levels to be that low, I have to be lacking an enzyme instead (add that to limited absorption of iron and vit b12 which also heavily run in my family...), so I've started supplementation for that too.
Weightwise, I know I've put some kgs on now that I'm studing, not moving and not quite having the peace of mind required to attend to my dietary choices as properly as i should (where "choices" read "quantities". didn't broke my "whole foods" attitude at all, so that's a win).
I've been trying to lose these kgs for almost 10 days now and I think I've come back to the weight I was. I still dread the scale though and won't be stepping on it soon. I'd very much rather see a new weight in 15 days, than an approximation of my previous weight. No, thank you very much.
I'm trying to take to walking again, and yesterday I had a nice 105 minute walk by some beautiful, (seaside mostly) vintage mansions of my hometown. Didn't enjoyed one bit though. My mind was sitting on my heart, drifting them both deep underground. When I finished, I was almost crying. Walking ALWAYS made me feel better. Well, not this time; it didn't help.
Today I'm walking to the town's beacon.
My main priority should be the exam period, but I feel it's more than I can take at the moment. So I'll do my best, study less than I should if I have to, and take my chances.
I'll be more active on spark, because right now my computer is the only thing that gives me some slur of joy.
I don't mind. A slur of joy is better than no joy at all, and being on my computer connecting with people is better than sleeping all day long.
2014 is half way in. It's a year of amends. I've lost some more weight, not much, and I'm battling on the rest of the grounds. Life seems to go nowhere, but I feel that when this is the case, each has to draw their own route and create their somewhere. Don't ask me how; I'll tell you when I find out. It's just that "somewhere" is more of a destination than "no direction".
This blog helped greatly to get in touch with myself. I was feeling really low when I started writing, but suddenly everything feels less gloomy than before.
Thank you for taking the interest to read through, may your patience be rewarded.
Love to all,