As it happens, I had only barely started this journal before I went and snapped my ankle like a cheapy christmas toy, so y'all would not know that for most of my life I've been kinda a mini-gym-rat. I'd always just quit working before I started to get so big that it might look like more than a passtime, but once I'm into it I really enjoy the particular kinda pain of weightlifting. Actually, I do cardio stuff, too.

Or rather, I did. The ankle kinda put the kibosh on all that, and though I did go once in December I must admit that that really was a bit too soon. But I finally got out there again today, and (saints be praised) the rest of me actually ended up hurting more than the ankle. Whee! Hey, when you've been overly sensitive to words like "cripple" and "gimp" for several months, that's really no small feat.

And really, I think that getting back into the groove of working out can only help with my mood of late. It's true, there's stuff I wanna change about me life, but I don't think those things themselves are what have had me so down. As I explained to my therapist at some point when I was still on crutches -- basically, it's like I lost my sense of agency.

You know... normally, you can just say, "I'm going to do this." Or, "I want to do this, so I will." Or, "I choose this, so I will make it happen." But guess what? If yer on crutches, you really can't say, "I will carry a laundry bag downstairs because I can do laundry." You can't say, "I will move quickly, because I am in a hurry." (Well, you can say these things, but saying them won't make them happen.) You can't say, "I choose to go shopping for food at this time," or even, "Gee, my trash is getting kinda full, think I'll empty it."

Yet, of course, pretty much by the time I was limping around on the aircast without crutches, I was able to do all those things. Not as easily as I could before, but I could still do them. Unfortunately, for one as mentally off kilter as myself (hey, it's my diary -- I can denigrate myself as much as I like) the mental healing process takes just a bit longer than the physical one. I mean, I don't really even walk with a limp anymore, but I really am still inordinately pleased at such simple things as walking to the store down the street (on snow and ice, no less) or actually being able to cook for myself. I mean, it still is for some reason kinda new to me, the idea that I'm not mostly helpless.

And ultimately, I don't really think feeling helpless is too helpful for one who's kinda depressed. ("Oh -- my life sux and I can't do anything about it? Whee!") But, methinks it's time I told myself to quit being a whiny bitch and do something to help myself already. Really -- I skipped every scheduled class last week, I haven't even bought my books for the semester yet, and of course there are homework assignments due, the first one for tomorrow night. Don't know if I'll be able to get that one done in the few hours between getting the book and when the class is, but we can hope. I'll be okay with the Wednesday one, but there's no way in hell I'll be able to do the assignment for Thursday...

All this to say: Choosing not to do anything is still choosing to do something. It just usually isn't the most beneficial choice, as your own preferences are thus removed from the equation.

Hm. Y'know, also -- I have a deep and entrenched distrust of all the syndromes and disorders and such that seem to have surfaced in these recent years ... not that I don't think they're real, just that I'm not sure everyone who is diagnosed with something necessarily has it. I think that's why it took me so long before I was willing to take meds -- sad fucker though I was, I wasn't convinced it was a chemical thing, so much as life-is-shit thing. But, thick as I am, even I can only be hit over the head so many times before I get the point. I'm thinking, like lots and lots of other people apparently, I probably tend towards Seasonal Affective Disorder -- um, if that's actually what it's called. *shrug*

I just mean, I'm looking back, and it seems to me I've been pretty fucking miserable every Jan-Feb for the last several years. I mean, at each point I had what I'd still call valid complaints -- yet somehow, these seem to be the months when I'm least able to handle it all effectively. Not really so much that this perception will necessarily help in any fashion... just somethin I've noticed.

Anyhow, stick a fork in me. No, actually don't -- cause that would hurt. But here's hopin your weekend was fun, and that your Monday won't be too sucky ... love and luck to all my d-land peeps.

Peace,