I’m not sure why, but for as long as I can remember when upset there is one artist I tend to listen to. I know that most people will assume that artist is Garth Brooks, but oddly enough no. Yes, every now and then there is a combination of the artist I plan on writing about with Garth and others, but the music I always listen to when upset is Alan Jackson. Why? I have no idea. There’s no rhyme or reason to it, but something I remember my mom realizing and pointing out to me once upon a time. I feel oddly better afterward, typically, and as if all of the sadness I’ve been feeling has been sucked from my body and tossed aside. Hopefully not to someone else, but aside nonetheless.
While I cannot say I’ve had a bad year thus far, after all I spent time vacationing the first week of June, I found myself reflecting after my birthday this year. And I was left in this odd state where I was teetering on a tight rope of depression when I originally started writing this. And I felt stupid for writing it because it was the day after a ton of people admitted that they cared. They wanted me to have a great birthday. They all went out of their way to make sure that I had well wishes. And yet there I was feeling like I was splashing around in a fountain and splashing the depression right into my face. I found that I had no energy to do any of the things I wanted to do once I got home from work. I didn’t want to write. I didn’t want to read. I didn’t want to go swimming. Instead, I took my melatonin, got back on a regular sleep cycle and felt absolutely horrible about my weight.
All the while, I felt even worse about other parts of my life too. The promises I made to myself were broken. Earlier in the year I spoke of all this positivity I wanted to put out into the world and into my life. All these tasks I wanted to accomplish. And it’s not that I don’t think I’m capable of accomplishing those things, but the truth was I felt worthless and as if there were few and far people who actually gave a shit. Is that necessarily true? I hope not. Deep down I know there’s a part of me that doesn’t believe it, but that person is currently being beaten with a stick and tossed into some grave somewhere and a little guy is taking the shovel to bury that part because it doesn’t matter. Nothing truly matters. This leads me down a path where I was going through motions instead of actually living my life until the weekend of Atlanta Comic Con.
The ups and downs I experienced the week of my birthday were insanity. It also had me debating something I haven’t debated in the past nine years and that is possibly seeking professional help in the form of a therapist. I’m not suicidal, I wasn’t suicidal, I just felt beat down and broken and the odd part was I couldn’t understand why. Weeks later and I still cannot understand why because this is honestly the best year I’ve had in a while. I went on my first vacation in fifteen years. I’ve been to five concerts this year, twos conventions, and this Friday I’m going to see Sugarland. But honestly somewhere between seeing Kenny Chesney and coming back from my vacation I didn’t feel like me. I didn’t feel like I was living as much as I should have been.
Most of the time I don’t feel the need to listen to an obscene amount of Alan Jackson. These are the times I contemplate repeating his original greatest hits CD once shuffle has decided I have listened to the CD in it’s entirety alongside about four additional songs that were not included. I felt like I should be happy and that’s because I should be happy. I think in an odd way it all goes back to money not buying happiness if there are more deep seeded issues. And while there was a part of me that felt this could be because of missing my mom, because I’ve missed her non-stop since Mother’s Day, it felt like more. Some days it still feels like more.
I waited to post this though until after I talked with my doctor. I admitted to him why I stopped walking. I admitted all these things and I had tears in my eyes while doing so because I want to be happy. I don’t want to be unhappy but someone telling me well just put a smile on your face doesn’t always work. My anxiety wants me to believe I’m not good enough. My anxiety wants to put all this unnecessary pressure on me to make me feel worthless. My anxiety does not want me to enjoy the moments while I’m in them. They want me to go through the motions of everything instead of living in that moment. And while I know that depression and anxiety are ongoing battles getting that deep into what I dub a funk sucks and it’s crippling.
Upon talking to my doctor, who I’ve decided is honestly the best, he told me not to look at my walking for weight loss purposes. He knows I need to lose weight. I know I need to lose weight. This is not something someone who is overweight doesn’t know. But when he said that he added just to start out walking five minute a day. Just five minutes because even though we might not think it, we all have five minutes. He said I could walk around a table for five minutes if I wanted but just to walk for five minutes. Cardio helps with depression. I admitted I felt better while walking and he said of course you did, but when you’re depressed you don’t feel like doing anything that makes you happy. It’s okay you felt like that. It’s okay you had a regression. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay. And honestly, as stupid as it sounds I needed to hear all that.
I haven’t gotten past five minutes yet, but I can tell you that I feel better than I have in a long time. When I first started my movie challenge last month I couldn’t help but think I’m not going to be able to complete this. And then I thought, no. I am going to make time to write. I am going to use July to get us back into a groove. I have five minutes. Were there days I was exhausted after working all day? Sure. Were there challenges along the way of completing the challenge? Yes. Did I get caught up and do it? Yes. And I did this because I wanted to know that I could complete one thing even if I didn’t get to post every day. I completed a challenge. I even added a question to the challenge because July has thirty one days. I needed to know I could do something so when it comes time to do more than just five minutes worth of various tasks I could. I just needed to know that I can and I will.