Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Stuck In An Aid Station....
Thats how I feel... like I'm at mile 88 of a 100 mile race... stuck in an aid station, unable to move, no motivation to continue. Depression sucks and it is something I am struggling to understand on a daily basis. All I know is that for the last week or two, I have done nothing but tremble. I shake constantly, from the time I wake up until the time I go to sleep... that is IF I sleep. I can't seem to really concentrate on anything, I think I spend a majority of my day spacing out, staring at nothing... thinking.. about what I have no idea. And when I am not spacing out, I am thinking, obsessing about my mistakes. I end up hating myself and want to do nothing but quit.. quit everything. BUt I guess thats the easy way out.
I always thought about how ultra's are synonymous with life. I think back to the Vermont 100 this past year, 88 miles into the race, I know I'll finish, I know I can break 24 hours if I try. But the medical staff sat me down in a chair, and I still to this day have no idea why. And all I did was sit there, and pout.. and wonder. So to in this life right now, all I can do is sit and wonder, I'm having my own little time out and I have no idea why. I feel trapped in my own body, I feel lost, I feel helpless and I feel like there is no way I'm going to finish this "race." Quitting is oh so easy... just like in a race, a nice warm bath and a bed isn't all that far away and its so easy to say it. But I like challenges, its why I choose to do what I do... to push the limits, to find the limits. I can overcome depression.. and I will. Relentless forward progression, one step at a time.. I'll get there.
I made it to the gym today. Its the first time since maybe April that I had been. I spent maybe 2 hours there. I started by hopping on the treadmill and warming up with a 3 mile run. I even put the treadmill's incline up to 15 and practiced my power walking. Then I broke right into my circuit training which still kicks my butt as good as it ever did. It felt good to sweat, it felt good to focus on something, to put the negative energy to good use. I felt like I was doing something again, like I'm fighting back. But the feelings are only temporary..
I woke up this morning sick to my stomach. I rebounded well. I went to the doctor, missed a few classes in the process, and got a few things straightened out. I went home for a bit and decided to start taking the steps to getting life back in order. I showered finally. I ate some food (hasn't been normal), I went to school and got a 100 on an EMT Practical. I went grocery shopping and then went to the gym. I made an appointment, finally, to see a psychiatrist next week. But regardless of how well today went, I am still sitting here with my head in my hands. Lost, sad, unsatisfied. I still want to crawl back into that hole I dug and hide. I feel like I'm there, my thoughts and my feelings, and others, just keep shoveling some of that dirt from above on top of me. I'm suffocating in my own self destruction, my own self pity. The medication (Lexapro) isn't working yet.. its still probably weeks away from working its magic. I hope I can make it because I'm going crazy.
I think the worst thing right now is knowing that I can't have what I want in this life. Time heals all wounds and this is one that I truly hope heals. And I fear that I truly will never be happy... I'm just stuck in an aid station.