Root of the Evils
I have not been writing. Not the blog, not poems. Nothing. I have simply not been writing.
I have been doing some good stuff on Facebook. I started a page to put together a team to ride The Ride For Autism next June. I want to do the ride again and this time I want a team around me to raise even more money for this cause that is so near to my heart.
I am focusing on things like this. The ride. Other rides. I am trying to stay active. I am fighting against the Black Dog that so often visits me this time of year and has been growing big and more annoying recently.
More than anything, depression fed my obesity. I ate when I was depressed. Many don’t. Some do. I am part of the some that do.
When I was depressed I would eat.
When I wasn’t depressed I would eat to celebrate not being depressed.
I avoid medication.
The cycling helps keep it at bay.
Being active all day helps.
But the depression makes me not want to ride or stay active.
It is not easy.
Yesterday I had to push myself hard to get on the bike to ride. I tried to hide behind the cold weather. I hoped the others would beg off because of the cold.
They didn’t. I had to ride.
I rode very poorly. I tried hard but my mind wandered. I rode in the wrong gears. I failed to follow basic rules of group cycling. I was testy about being corrected and the depression sapped my energy and all I wanted was to end the ride. But I rode. I got in 29 miles or so. And I survived. I held the rest of the riders back because I was just not riding well at all. That fed the depression. But I finished and I worked at the shop and I was able to keep the outward signs of the depression to a minimum.
Today I had a hard time fighting the depression. I felt testy and unable to deal with any sort of complication. When you are a production manager complication is what you deal with. It was not a good day. And I fed the depression. I went out to eat at lunch and I ate too much and afterwards I felt better and it scared the hell out of me. Eating is an addiction. It is self-medication. Feeling so much better after lunch is scary. It is a sign of danger. It is a path back to obesity.
It is the roots of the evils.
I am committing to write every day. It is one of the tools I have for fighting this. I am committed to some form of exercise every day. Walking, riding, hiking… SOMETHING to keep me active and focused on fighting the black dog.
Today. Yesterday. The day before. They were hard days.
The Black Dog.
He cannot win. Today he scored a small victory. I cannot let him win the war.