Reverting back does not prevail

Yesterday was a rough one for me. I hadn’t slept well the night prior and my mood was beyond foul. My depression had returned with a vengeance. On top of that, work was full of annoying, trivial issues that wouldn’t have gotten to me on a normal day but I was experiencing unnecessary anger. I tried to keep myself focused on positive thoughts to ease the irritation that continued to build.

As the day carried on I was craving a cigarette badly. I couldn’t stand that familiar feeling of hovering gloom; my skin felt like it was crawling. The desperation for relief was real and I was determined to get that cigarette to help calm me down.

I felt the same the rest of the day until I made my way home.

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Credit: Ehimetalor Unuabona

I made a mental note as I drove by the bodega near my house that I could buy a loosey, since I only wanted one cigarette versus a pack. The downside was the price went up from $.50 to $1, per loosey. I was genuinely contemplating it.

Once I made it home and thought it over, I told myself to wait before walking to the bodega. I had cooking and cleaning to do, so with my mind made up, I opted to do those things before heading out. I was determined to get everything done in order to leave. That was the deal I made with myself.

After completing my tasks I immediately jumped into my workouts.

By the time I finished, I made my honey lavender tea and felt a hell of a lot better. It was the best I felt that entire day.

After taking my shower, I settled in and got into bed. It was then that I realized I never went out to get my cigarette. Instead of reverting back to my old habits of smoking to escape, I went along with my new, healthier methods and they prevailed.

I need to remember for future matters that just because I was feeling desperate to ease the frustration doesn’t mean I have to throw myself back into old practices. I am moving forward with healthier approaches that are clearly proving to be helpful. Why subject myself to going backward? That’s pretty thoughtless.

Today I can say I am almost two weeks cigarette free.

Oh, and I didn’t waste a dollar!

 

Gratitude for the past

I have a lot of personal issues I am working through with a therapist due to an abundance of factors in my past. I try to tell myself to leave the negative portions of my

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Credit: Júnior Ferreira

past where it belongs, then thoughts of said moments make me slip into a downward spiral of depression and terrible choices. It wasn’t until recently that I made the decision

to put my foot down and not allow these things to control me. I had to remind myself whether the moments of my past were good or bad, it still led me to where I am in this moment and I should feel some gratitude for that.

Sure, I can feel a certain way about things and get help from my therapist on how to address my feelings in a healthier manner, but I can’t disregard those damaging moments altogether either. Instead of burying the bad, or hiding from it, I can use those moments as learning experiences for how to handle difficult situations in the future.

Why be a victim of the past when the future can be dominated?

 

 

Almost a Week

It has been almost a week since I’ve had a cigarette and I haven’t thought much about it. I haven’t had any cravings or withdrawals, I haven’t experienced any restlessness or mood swings (no more than usual), it has been pretty simple.

What’s been different this time around is I have been keeping myself distracted. Whether it’s doing additional cleaning, keeping my focus on writing/reading, or getting lost in the many ‘worlds’ of Instagram, the distractions have been an immense help. Another difference is I really wanted to stop this time. Before, I knew I had to let go, but I wasn’t ready to give it up, emotionally.

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Credit: Sara Kurfeß

In the past, I would tell myself I needed to stop smoking due to my declining health, to avoid the strong, lingering smell of tobacco on my hands or clothes, and the countless stories (and statistics) of the lives lost to this awful addiction. All of that should have been enough to get me to kick the habit, but it wasn’t.  Now that I’m in a better place and getting the critical help I need, I don’t have desires to use cigarettes as a crutch.

Is this me saying I have quit forever? I’m not sure. I can’t see into the future so I can’t say if I will or won’t relapse again (damn addictions), but I have a handle on it right now and all I can do is live in the present.

 

 

(PLUS, THEY ARE EXPENSIVE AF)

 

Back on Instagram

A few weeks ago I made an Instagram account that was deleted by them after two, or three, days. Somehow, I violated the terms and conditions, but it wasn’t explained as to what I did to warrant the termination. I had emailed them stating I felt it was a mistake and let them know I had done nothing wrong. I still haven’t heard back from them. I was beyond agitated. I was done with them all together at that point, but I felt I should try it out one more time. It was my past experiences with the app that helped me with weight loss, become more mindful of my mental health, and helped me to stay accountable. If it wasn’t for those reasons I would have definitely given up.

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Credit: Mink Mingle

What I can say is, so far, so good. I’ve already ‘met’ a few people and have witnessed many inspiring personalities. I feel this will be helpful to my lifestyle changes. As long as I stay focused, that is. I have a tendency of focusing on one particular thing, then lose track of what I was previously working on. I’m awful at multitasking in my life, basically.

That’s all I have for now. Due to my anxiety attacks last night and lovely insomnia, I barely slept. I’m at work feeling like I am going to slam my face on the keyboard at any second. The last thing I need is to potentially break my nose and have keyboard keys embedded in my face.

Torturous road trip with therapy

“Therapy would be good for you.” They said.

“Opening up will help.” They said.

“Talking to someone could be beneficial.” They said.

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As I sit back and think about it, logically, I can agree due to personal experiences. There were moments when therapy was helpful to younger me and it has the potential to help again. That is if I go through the process rather than persistently hiding things. All I have to do is work through the difficult moments of my past by discussing it and learn to move on. I need to use the tools given to me to dig myself out of this grave of misery. I can get to where I need to be, in time. I need to be open to helping myself.

Again, this is me thinking of it in a logical sense.

The other, more dominant, irrational way of thinking about it leads to a rage that makes me want to quit therapy already.

I am not someone who opens up easily. Anything and everything that has ever caused me minimal or considerable amounts of emotional harm has been stored away in a vault. The vault is like my protection and it remains sealed in the back of my mind until I need to throw something else in. Not only is therapy making me open the vault to re-live the awful moments, but it’s also making me feel them, too.

feelings

I hate feeling. I find it works better not to feel.

That’s the problem. It isn’t healthy.

This is something I need to do, but I don’t know if I can handle it. This is 15-20 years of thoughts or memories I intended to keep stashed away. Right now, logic prevails. I just hope irrationality is okay with giving up the wheel on this torturous road trip that’s in store.

Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.

I’m still going at it with this depression nonsense. I stopped taking my pills for a few weeks because they made me gain 20+ lbs in 6+ months. The pills are so strong and if I don’t eat enough (enough meaning a whole-fucking-lot) I feel sick to the point of throwing up (I threw up twice this weekend due to not eating “enough”). Being without my meds altered my mood drastically. My boyfriend convinced me to try taking half a pill, that way I can have something rather than nothing. I thought I would be fine for a while without them, but it didn’t take long for me to feel all the anxiety and dark clouds rushing back.

I’ve been back on the meds for a few days and even though I need to up my food intake (there goes my jeans), my mood has also improved again (which is a total plus), but I don’t want this making me gain more weight.

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Credit: rawpixel

People ask me, “Why don’t you just change your medication?” or they say, “You should change up medications to see what works for you.” The thing is I’ve done that before. Not only do I hate feeling like a fucking guinea pig, but last time I changed up medications to “see what works for me” I ended up with worse depression and it gave me a new symptom (paranoia; that was fun) that only made my thoughts darker than I thought possible.

Meds are no fucking joke.

They are scary to me.

The options I can see are: I keep taking the meds that really help me feel better emotionally and mentally, go to the gym and try maintaining the weight as this point, since losing it will be difficult as hell, or switch up medication and run the risk of having it fuck me up mentally and emotionally like it did before. The way I look at it is I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t.

It’s just fucking frustrating, I feel so stuck. Why can’t things ever be simple?

Rolling with it


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I’ve written about three or four different drafts, but I can’t seem to figure out what I really want to say. I sit around and stare at the screen, or a piece of paper, for hours, hoping my words will come to me as they once did, but I found myself bottling everything up again.

The problem is I have no idea where to even begin. I know there are people out there who would/will say to start anywhere or with any topic, I’ve been one of those people, but it’s not as easy as it sounds right now. I just have so much going on and I can’t hit the pause button. I want to go back to a few months ago and say what I need to say, do what I need to do, but it’s too late.

 And now I’m rambling. Awesome.

Guess I’ll roll with it until I hit a wall.

If I’m being honest with myself in this moment in time, I’m feeling pretty lost. My love for writing hit the back burner, I want to read books to distract myself, but I don’t know what I want to read. I want to talk, yet I don’t want to share my feelings. I’m finding myself hating everyone, again.

I’m a hot mess with depression and my insomnia is back.

Is it too much to ask to not feel so engulfed with depression and uncertainty?

It looks like I’m done for now.