Lesbian log twenty-three-zero-six-twenty-one
In an attempt to stay accountable, this blog will be my litmus test. This morning, I woke up and made it onto the treadmill for a second day in a row. This allowed me to increase the intensity of my jog-to-walk ratio. A positive sign.
I am by nature a delicate flower. I break easily. If I overdo, I blow a knee or a hip. Yes, getting older sucks. So, I am very careful with the rate in which I increase load and duration for any type of exercise I engage in. For the treadmill, I use an app to help me balance a slow steady pace as I build toward jogging a full 5K. This will take me months. The app suggests it should happen over a course of a few weeks, encouraging the user to increase the intensity and duration of the jog intervals every few days. If I tried that, I’d be down and out for months and would be no further ahead, owing to the fact I’d be considerable worse for the wear with depression again. So, I take this nice and easy.
I’m committed to trying to keep the momentum going, to coaxing the positive outlook from out behind the clouds. I can’t promise the world, but I may even wash the toilets today. Possibly do a quick, short grocery shop as well. Both or neither of these things may happen. I’ve learned that on this road to recovery, I may have left the wellies behind and slipped into sandals, but some days, I may not be able to walk far. That’s OK. I’ve stopped shaming myself for not having the strength or motivation to meet all my goals. Instead, I focus on the one small task I can muster and forgive myself for the ones I can’t.
My hope is that with an improved mood, some of those tasks will become more manageable. My hope is that with a change in perspective, I will find the motivation to keep walking toward more joy. It’s good to be out of the mud, but I’m under no illusion that this journey isn’t still fraught with pitfalls—most of which will be of my own making, in the form of downtrodden thoughts and negative loops.
Breaking free of depression and loosening the grip of melancholy takes concerted effort. I’m no stranger to this. My entire life has been a merry-go-round of moments of depression followed by moments of joy. In yoga, I’d call this living on the outside of the wheel. The goal is to be the hub, unaffected by the ups and downs around us. The trick is learning to be that calm centre when our own inner thoughts cause the fluctuating storms.
For decades, despite being around people who loved me and whom I loved in return, I always felt alone. I tried millions of things to shake that empty feeling, but nothing lasted for long. I realize now that I had to change. But not in any way I could have ever imagined. Which is why it took so damn long.
Once I realized that the world I was living in, the world I had diligently loved and nurtured was not allowing me to truly thrive, I took a terrifying leap of faith—despite understanding all the hardships that would come with it. I took that leap because the promise of feeling whole was worth the interim of feeling shattered. At least I’d hoped it was.
The jury is still out.
Healing is a process. But I’m picking up the pieces and trying to give myself the grace and love needed to accept my journey and the pain its taken to get here.
Like everyone else, I too am worthy of happiness. It’s time I accept and honour that.
It’s a work in progress. Wish me luck.
In gratitude,
Marissa xo