Depression x.0

Depression is a funny thing — not funny “ha ha,” but curious. It’s rarely the same way twice. There’s almost always a new or different wrinkle when lugubriousness strikes. I’ve struggled with depression numerous times in my life. In the past, I’ve found some comfort in binge comic-book reading or getting lost in a Japanese RPG. Stress eating has always been a part of my depression routine (obviously). This time around, things are different.

I haven’t really eaten since Sunday. I’ve had a lot of water and a few sips of Soylent, but no real food. Since things went down with Asika on Monday night, I haven’t felt like eating, which is just shocking for me. Last night I forced myself to buy a burrito from the local taco truck. I stared at it for 30 minutes before wrapping it up and putting it in the fridge. Oh wait, I forgot to mention that in addition to water and Soylent, there has been vodka.

While I’m fairly confident that the drinking won’t be a daily thing, I’m mildly concerned about the food thing. Certainly I need to lose a lot of weight, but something about this depression has me viewing food differently. In the past, a photo of a nice steak or a commercial for a restaurant that I like would make me hungry. These past few days, those images have kind of repulsed me. I don’t recall that ever happening to me before.

Maybe it’s because I’ve often used food to make me happy and I’m so absorbed in my moroseness that the thought of being happy disgusts me. (And yes, I realized how ridiculous that sentence was right after I typed it.) The lack of appetite is just so strange for me.

On the plus side, I’ve been walking a lot. It started last Friday when I was lonely and didn’t want to be in my apartment. I walked around randomly for two hours. Since then, I’ve been walking for two or three hours every day. Most of my walking has been in the late afternoon, so I’ve gotten some sun. My skin has already improved, which is nice. Mostly though, I just feel trapped and alone in my apartment. When the thinking and feeling become too much, I walk. The nice part about having a bad knee is that I’m so concerned about taking a bad step that I’m constantly scanning the ground to make sure that my path is clear. That’s one way to think less. Yay walking!

In less than a week, I’ve lost five pounds. Yes, I know that most of that is water weight, but I shall take any small victory that I can get while I’m feeling completely worthless.

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