One of the things that helps my depression is exercise. We all know this. However, when you are in the deep pit of despair full of triple chocolate fudge ripple and laying flat on your bed staring at your ceiling...your most likely thought is "Am I going to be able to move any time soon? Or at all?"
No, in this state of mind exercise isn't going to happen. Nope, I think, I'm too fat, too uncoordinated, too ugly to ever step into a gym where they will likely all stand, stare and point, amiright? I'm over 200 pounds and all of this flab takes enough energy to move up the stairs to bed. Those gyms are full of skinny people pumping iron and cycling and stair stepping and Zoomba-ing. I'd stand out like a sore thumb!
Well last year I decided to give Tai Chi a try. Someone was starting a class in our gym at work so it was free. It started at 4:45 and my work day ends at 4:30. Oh damn, all out of excuses. I LOVED it. The moves are easy enough, but still demanding. The focus required by my brain to balance, shift my weight, move my legs and feet and arms and hands, while watching my posture ... I can't think of anything else!! I've heard it called the moving meditation and it really is. All of my problems stay at the door while I'm in that gym. I pick them up again on my way out, of course. But for 45 minutes my mind it clear and focused, my body is moving and those endorphins start to pump. I feel so accomplished when I leave...even as I drag my body home and collapse on my bed to stare at my ceiling.
So for the last 4 months I wasn't going. Why did I allow this to happen? Part of it was the move and separation from my Ex, part of it was allowing my depression to take over and convince me I was too far behind and I'd never catch up. Who knows, but today I went. I'm so glad I did. If I don't take care of me, then no one will. I need to focus on what keeps me healthy so that I can then help my kids.