I cooked for myself last night. This is pretty good news, considering how blue I have been the last few days… Black dog came home, and cooking is the self-love I need but often t…

Source: Self-Love Stew (VEGAN)

 

I needed to see this.

A reminder for Self-Love.

Today.

Tomorrow.

This week.

This last week.

I know that Jack posted it back at the beginning of August but for me, right here and now, it is what I needed.

Body and Soul and Soup.

Depression is a black hole that eats away at me and sometimes I can resist the pull, I find the light and other times…

Other times I fail.

I fail.

Its taken me years to be able to say that.

I, who feel deeply that I have NEVER “failed” at anything in life, feel like I have failed myself.  And it brings me to tears as I type.

I want so much for myself; know that I am so capable of making the best of myself and that my best isn’t this lump of a person sitting here with welling eyes.

Today is especially painful because it symbolizes a waste.  A waste of my time, of my energy and least important of all, of money.

Over the last year I have done very little physical and both physically and mentally I have suffered for it.  Yes, I begun playing hockey and I love it but I could be so much better with a little more effort.  My trousers no longer fit the way they should and I honestly have a box of clothing that live in the spare room; banished for my own folly.  I have running clothes I feel horrible about wearing because they don’t fit but they don’t fit because I won’t put them on…a vicious cycle if ever there was.  I made plans, public statements that I intended to “streak” this holiday season; a 1 mile run every day from Thanksgiving to New Years; and I failed right out of the gate because I failed to do anything. I just…couldn’t.  Early this morning there were two people standing in the Seattle Half Marathon starting line because I encouraged them to join me there and I couldn’t show.  The part of me that wanted someones else to join me in the training journey, to go thru the ups and downs of milage building and physical challenge was just not enough to actually get myself moving.  I have plans, small, manageable plans, to have helped me reach that goal but I just… couldn’t.

And thats the worst part of depression.  The feeling that I just…can’t and not having the words to explain it.  So I put on the happy face and do my best to function without outwardly failing.  I bury myself in trying to be busy around people so I don’t have to rest and be still and just ‘be’ in my own skin.  I need to leave family gatherings early because I cannot deal with the stress, my internal stress, of being around people being happy when I feel so very lost.  I try not to let my friends down and deal with the fallout when they think that somehow my actions are a reflection of their shortcomings instead of a true reflection of my own.  I cry in the shower, both for the fatigue I feel of carrying my mask and for the love I have when my partner sees that I am bearing too much inside and makes my excuses or makes one of himself.

Oddly appropriately to the season that my inspiration today will come from a holiday movie.  “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” was not part of my childhood movie rotation but it was for M and when it was on TV the other evening, he hinted that he would rather watch that over the Grinch.  As we own both movies and I know it irks him when I recite, I obliged and Mickey Rooney’s voice filled our home. M said that he really remembered a specific song, One Foot In Front Of The Other and as I think I’ve only seen the movie once, I had to wait to see and hear what he meant.  It too was something I needed to hear.

I made soup already this morning, one close to Jacks recipe without even seeing her post, so out the door I go.

One foot in front of the other,

my vote for a chance to be reborn.

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