Crap Circles


Tuesday April 27th, 2010 – Lake Villa, IL

Hello darkness, my old friend. I’m back in the funk of depression but I’m not worried at all this time. I’ve been here plenty. None of this is new. I’m not overwhelmed or trying to locate a bridge to leap off of or anything dramatic. I know this will pass and I’m trying to let it do exactly that. It always does, and then there’s a period of high creativity after that.

What’s really been brutal in the past is that I’ve lost sight of this eventual passing. Even the worst hurricane or tornado eventually stops, but while it’s happening it’s very difficult to calmly imagine that when one’s house is getting ripped off of it’s foundation and flung out in space at 100 miles an hour. All bets are off when that happens, but this is not that.

This is just a minor relapse, mostly due to my own stupidity. Have I been exercising on a consistent basis like I know I should? Have I been drinking enough water or eating what I should be eating? Sadly, no. There’s no excuse for it either. Just because Taco Bell has a drive thru window late at night doesn’t mean I have to visit it regularly. This is my fault.

I’ve been getting a lot better at cutting out red meat and sodas, but there are all kinds of other naughty things to take their place. Bad things taste good, and they’re not expensive much of the time. What a dangerous combination that is. Who’s behind it, evil doctors?

It wouldn’t surprise me if heart surgeons all banded together and bought the joints that fill our arteries with the stuff they get paid big money to scrape out of us in due time. I’m a lot closer to 50 than 20 and I used to laugh about stuff like this. It’s not so funny now.

I totally believe the source of a lot of depression is diet and lack of exercise related. I’ve done some reading on it in my lucid moments, and I’m sure it’s true. Then, I stupidly fool myself into believing I can ‘treat myself once in a while’ to something bad for me. I guess I probably could if ‘once in a while’ wasn’t ‘once a meal, every day, seven days a week.’

It’s not quite that bad, but I know deep in my mayonnaise clogged heart that I can stand to do MUCH better with my diet and exercise habits. I’m not alone in this struggle by far, but it doesn’t make it any easier to pass up that slice of pizza that comes with eight more.

I think water is a big part of it too. Who the hell wants to drink eight to twelve glasses a day on purpose? I sure don’t. Urination holds no magic attraction for me, especially when I’m doing it every ten minutes. Still, our bodies are 70% water and we need to drink it on a regular basis to keep all the systems functioning. It’s part of life, but so few of us do it.

I’m one of the many, and now I wonder why my head is scrambled with depression. My blood is probably as thick as hot fudge, and I couldn’t run a full mile if all the women on Baywatch were at the end of it naked and begging me to have sex with them. I’d be dead.

I spent most of today in bed sleeping it off, the mental version of Otis Campbell. I’m no doctor, but I know what’s happening. This will pass when it passes, but for now it’s here.

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