I’ve always thought I was just lazy. I start things and don’t finish them. I hate any sort of exercise. I take the elevator and escalator whenever possible. I know I’ve dealt with depression before but lately this is on a whole new level.
It’s beautiful outside, I should go for a walk, or ride my bike, but I can’t move. I just want to stay in my pajamas and read or watch TV. This happens often, and it’s getting worse. I have an excuse for everything, even for avoiding showers. I put tasks off until the very last minute. The once hypochondria I suffered has completely turned itself around. I avoid doctors. EVERY task seems arduous and exhausting. I just want to be in bed or on my couch.
I’m amazed at how depressed I’ve become. Once I do get outside, I say to myself “remember this feeling, remember how wonderful it feels to be outdoors.” I say this so that maybe next time it won’t be so difficult for me to get going. But it doesn’t matter. Every time, I have to talk myself into getting up, getting ready, and getting out the door. It’s a chore. Living has become a chore. Sometimes, to motivate myself, I’ll seek out a documentary for motivation. People who’ve had it worse than I have. If they can get through their trauma so can I. It’s invigorating, and it makes my feel thankful. Eventually, like everything, it wears off. Then there’s the guilt.
Why now? Maybe it’s because my life isn’t exciting? Maybe I’ve finally let all of the stress, sadness, anger-take over.
You Only Need You 