I thought things would get better and I couldn’t have been more wrong. This past week was a living hell. On Tuesday I posted an article titled Trapped because that’s how I was feeling. My depression got very bad and I was feeling trapped in many ways.
Primarily my feeling of entrapment was from my desire to leave the country. It started with us wanting to leave because of our anger over a Trump presidency, but it’s more than that. A large part is to add an exciting adventure as a chapter in our lives together. Regardless of the reason, we’re trapped. The cost to emigrate is more than we can do no matter where that may be. I’m still feeling trapped. Trapped in many aspects of my life which I will cover in tomorrow’s post.
My Wednesday was even more depressing than Tuesday. I haven’t hit such a low level in years. I was in a deep dark abyss wallowing in anger, pain and self-pity. Things did change Wednesday night. I was curled up in bed and I felt like my depression broke. It was just like having a flu when you feel your fever break. Also, just like the flu, it wasn’t completely gone the next several days, but I was better. Getting a little better with each day. It still hasn’t dissipated.
I’m also kicking my ass about the novel. Why have I been wasting my time writing it when I could have been spending my time writing erotica. It takes less work and is easier to sell. (some writers of erotica would argue that.) It’s possible that my pittance that I receive from Disability would get me into some countries, but I would struggle and it certainly would not be enough for the country to allow both Maurice and I to enter.
Just to make things clear, the depression WAS NOT, and still IS NOT, situational. It is coming from deep inside my soul. It’s just what’s happening on my outsides are making it all worse.
Anxiety has been eating at me also. I had hoped I wouldn’t have to increase my meds, but two days last week I had to add an extra anti-anxiety pill. They helped a little, but not much. Certainly not enough.
Weight and Fitness
Weight on Nov. 26: 256.0 lbs.
Weight on Dec, 03: 260.8 lbs.
Total gain: 4.8 lbs.
I think the numbers speak for themselves. I was dealing with such uncomfortable feelings that I tried to eat them away every day. If it was sweet, then I wanted it and most likely had it. I promised I’d never hit 260 lbs or more ever again and I blew it. It’s times like these that make me feel it’s not even worth trying anymore.
Hardly worth talking about. I was given some welcome feedback from a friend of mine who I allowed to read my messy draft. He was a police detective and now works as a private eye. He gave me excellent info that requires that I make some changes. They aren’t too huge, but it does involve adding a new character, but I haven’t done that yet.
Last month was NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) where writers (many of whom are bloggers) are challenged to write 50,000 words in one month. No one expects anything publishable, but it’s hope for many that it will be a kick in the ass to get something started. I have been writing for over a year and I only have 35,000 words. Granted, I’m sure it’s more coherent, but that’s still a long time.
Everything about last week was bad. My mood was disastrous, my health and fitness were jokes and my writing was virtually non-existent.
I don’t even have to think about it. Last week’s grade was a solid “F.”