babble, food, me and my medications, story of my life

In Which Fatso Is Depressed

Well, technically, I’m not depressed. I suffer from bipolar disorder, type I, with hints of schizophrenia when I’m in my manic or “high” phases.

Lately, I’ve been more depressed than manic, but this past week has been. Well.

This past week, I ran out of medication for my bipolar disorder, which has pretty much left me in a really, really bad bout of depression (which is where my disorder tends to head first when left un-medicated).

Added to this, the fact that my doctor and I still haven’t found the perfect medication for my migraines so I’ve had the migraine from hell for roughly a week, my right knee is still swollen and painful from whatever I did to it while I was swimming on Tuesday, and the past two days have been horrendous, to say the least.

I’m hoping – hoping – that the fact that I’ve been sticking to Fast Break for my meals (meaning that my meals have been around about 7 Points each) that the damage I’ve done elsewhere hasn’t been that great.

But seriously. Between the depression and my migraine and my knee pain and.

And and and.

And yeah, I feel like I’m making excuses again, but when you get that low, you don’t care.

The best news, of course, is that I restarted my anti-depressants on Wednesday night, and I’m hoping that they’ll kick in as soon as possible. Having had two bad days, I sort of looked at myself last night, and I thought, “What am I doing?”

So today, I’m making wise choices. I’m making the wisest choices to try and make up for the bad choices I’ve made on Thursday and Friday.

(I made pancakes last night because I was in a pisser of a mood and I felt like having pancakes. They probably had about 1,200 calories in them between knobs of butter, flour, egg, and sugar. I haven’t had pancakes since Shrove Tuesday, and they were nummy, but in hindsight… they weren’t even worth it.)

But yeah, it’s hard. It’s hard dealing with the depression, sometimes. Almost harder than dealing with being fat. And yet the two collide, like that, and eating is a way to cope with the depression.

But then there’s that horrible cycle.

You’re depressed, so you eat, then you feel disgusted with yourself, and so you feel more depressed, so you eat more.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

Other than going downstairs or going to the doctor’s or going to sign on this week, I’ve barely left my room. It’s like I’ve regressed to that girl I was at the start of the year. Again, in hindsight, it was probably the worst time to take the week away from the gym.

(Or the best, considering how bad my knee is. What the hell did I do to it, anyway?! Maybe exercise would be the best or worst thing for it. I don’t know. I’m still going to spin class tomorrow anyway.)

But yeah.

This week, not the best week.

Next week… will be better.

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