I never said my life was perfect. Only that I was happy. And now, well, just a tad bit sad. A dip into the lake of depression. Hopefully just a touch with the toes. I’m resisting the full plunge. I still have hope. Mind over matter.
I see my therapist tomorrow. The timing couldn’t be any better. I’m curious how he’ll react. To see your patient make such progress, to be so happy one week. Then tomorrow, I’m going to walk in and say, “I’m a little depressed. Help me. I don’t want to be like this.” What do therapists think? What do they feel? Like an outsider looking in, I’m wondering what will be going through his mind–this therapist I’ve been seeing for the past several months. I’m not even thinking about me. Only about him. Because I can’t stand to think of me right now.
I don’t wallow when I’m sad. I try to do something, anything. The long ass hike through Mount Tam and Muir Woods on Saturday was invigorating. It felt good. I was better. Afterwards, the In-n-Out burger tasted divine. The fries, too…even the few scraps that fell onto the counter. I scooped them up and ate them as well. I’m always relieved when my appetite is robust. It means I haven’t gone off the deep end.
Then to the gym to run and run and run. The best training I’ve done was when I was mad, angry, depressed. I can focus on the physical pain for a while and hope that it’s a good enough subsitute for now. It rarely is, but still worth the effort. Work it out. Sweat it out for the time being.