I know when I need to write - I feel the urge to go running to my computer to let the energy out of my fingers, much like I might run to the toilet with my mouth half-covered trying to not spray puke everywhere. Psh...like I've ever done that before.
Writing is my therapy, and I haven't felt the need to write until now. Like right NOW. I just went for a run at the gym, and while it was nothing to be impressed with (I may have eeked out 20 minutes), I think it kind of uncorked something within me.
In a good way.
When the kids started school it was nice to once again have a quiet home to myself for most of the day. I'm in school, one class is two days a week on campus, and one class is online. And I'm still not working. What I thought would be a relaxing, enjoyable time to myself while the kids have been in school, has turned into scary time.
Not BOO! scary.
But scary, as in depression-type scary; self-imposed-isolation-that-turns-ugly scary; this-is-not-good scary. I'm up in the morning to see the kids off to school, then I'm back to bed for a few hours. Then I find myself sitting in paralyzing stillness, counting the minutes till the kids come home. In that paralyzing stillness my mind is like a nagging wife, bringing up every tidbit she finds undesirable about me, browbeating me until I nearly break.
Everything about me is wrong. Everything about me is bad. Everything about me is hateful and dreadful.
That's when I found myself thinking, as I made my bed this afternoon in an attempt to just DO SOMETHING, Get yourself to the gym and run. Just go. NOW. My psychiatrist says it's the best thing I can do for myself, that people who exercise are generally people who are happy.
So that's what I did. I Forrest Gump'd myself on the treadmill for a little bit, not worrying about the time, just enjoying the extra heavy beats of my heart, the sweat pouring down my face, and my lungs breathing life into my soul.
It did make me feel better. SO. MUCH. BETTER. I just have to remind myself that going running isn't about fitting my ass into smaller jeans, or about fixing my outer self, or about doing it perfect or not at all. Getting to the gym and moving my legs is about keeping that self-destruct button more and more out of reach.
If I can continue to remind myself about my body's deepest needs for exercise, I think that self-destruct button will slowly disappear all together.
Wish me luck.