I’ve been struggling to post something for a couple of days now. I do the same thing over and over- I start with an idea, I get excited about it, I start writing it, and then my inspiration falls short and my sadness kicks in. I sigh and delete the whole paragraph. I promise myself to get back to it the next day. I never do.
Motivation is a very hard thing to come across sometimes. Some days even just breathing feels dreadful. Blinking can feel torturous, moving can feel exhausting. Smiling seems like a chore, laughing feels like a distant memory.
I thought that after I began taking antidepressants I would never have these days again. I was even scared that I wasn’t going to feel this familiar endless pain again. However, I can now see that that is not true at all.
I feel like crap. I don’t know if it’s simply caused by chemicals in my brain or by the circumstances of my whole situation. I mean, anorexia often goes hand in hand with depression and sad thoughts, nonetheless I feel like my depression goes beyond my eating disorder. I’ve always struggled with mental health and, even if I could never admit it or even talk about it, I’ve always known I’ve had some sort of depression since my younger days.
I’m tired and I’m sad. Life seems pointless, my days seem to have no meaning. I don’t feel like doing anything, but doing nothing is just as painful. You see, I’m trapped in this circle of self-hatred and sadness and it feels like it has no end.
I’m honestly so sick of this. I’m sick of myself, I’m sick of my mind, I’m sick of obsessing over food every single day, I’m sick of my life revolving around what I eat, my worth, what I should be doing, how I should be feeling. I’ve now started to enjoy other things (i.e. reading, drawing, playing the piano, etc.), but it still feels like my mind is in this big entangled disordered mess. I mean, the amount of time I spend thinking about food is absolutely ridiculous.
Nevertheless, I do manage to sneak in a few sane moments where I’m passionate about something else, where food doesn’t define how I feel or who I am. I have these little moments some days where I actually care about something else, where I actually have an opinion. And, man, do they feel great.
It’s so frustrating because I want this blog to be about something else, not simply my disorder and food and depression and I can’t put my finger on why it is so hard to snap out of it and just thoroughly write about something else, anything else, why it is so hard to not think about food or when or what I’m going to eat next.
And so I want to commit right here, right now to post at least every single saturday. It does not matter what I’m posting or if it’s a masterpiece, it doesn’t matter if I don’t feel like it or if I’m sad. I’m going to almost force myself to sit (or lay) down and write, I’m going to push myself to find other things to focus on, as I refuse to sit here and watch life slip through my fingertips. I am not going to let depression rule over me and my dreams, I am not going to let it numb me until I’m left with nothing but emptiness and darkness.
I am going to live – that is my final decision.
No, I don’t really feel like it. However, I’ve decided this for myself and I am going to make it, I am going to be able to come out on the other side.
And hopefully one day I won’t have to force myself to live anymore.