These Feet Were Made For Walking

This is a blog about depression. If you are easily offended or take offence to my very sarcastic humour, please do not read any further. Mental illness is not a joke; it is not something to point fun at and I fully understand that. BUT…when the going gets tough, sarcasm and humour is my defence and so I will be parading it around all over this blog.

 

If you need help, please get it. Whilst I hope this has a happy ending, I don’t know yet and given I’ve not been able to fix myself, I really don’t want others using this as a ‘How To Be Happy for Beginners v2.0’

 

 

 

It’s Monday morning. The first day of my first week without the hospital. I’m up but not when I was meant to get up. I *may* have gone into planning overdrive and therefore by getting up at 0830 rather than 0715, I’m already behind schedule. The thing is, I’ve got to try to break this so I’m going to say sod it and have breakfast even though that was 45 minutes ago. I measure out the cereal and milk, being exact matters when trying to break the cycle especially when it comes to food I’ve binged on! I sit on the sofa, I’m trying not to close off and shut down. I have made 1 arrangement for each day this week to ensure I leave the flat. Today, it’s lunch with Friend GG.

 

I was going to drive to meet my friend but for a couple of reasons, I’m seriously considering the train. That’s when I get a brain wave – they are rare, let me have this mini win – that I could walk to the train station which is only a couple of miles away. That way, I can capitalise on the walking success from yesterday and keep literally moving forward. That’s it, my mind is made up. I get dressed and head out the door. The walk takes me through parts of London that I live so close to yet never venture out to explore. Since moving in about 5 ½ years ago, I’ve stuck to the same deli, same bus routes, same restaurants. It’s a crime I’ve not explored more. There is a wealth of variety merely a stone’s throw from where I live. Nostalgic punitive beating aside, I walk. One should really be concerned about their fitness when even walking a couple of miles feels like hard work.

 

Arriving at the train station, it’s time to battle with the self-serve ticket machines. They are never simple. Then, the next shock of the day, when the hell did out of London trains get so expensive? It’s crazy and as someone who is crazy, I feel qualified to make that statement! I was on the train for 1 hour as a round trip yet the cost was £18. That may not sound a lot but when you’re used to London busses at £1.50 and tubes at £2.80, it really is!

 

The train doesn’t take long but it’s also an opportunity to read. Something I am doggedly trying to do daily even if I am re-reading the same chapter for the fourth time. When I arrive, it’s a 15 minutes’ walk from the station to the restaurant. That’s more steps helping me hopefully shrink a little. We have lunch and I am very proud of myself for being out of the house. Not only out of the house but also apparently functioning like a ‘Normal’ adult. After lunch, we head to Boots as I need a refill of my prescription. I am getting used to the pharmasists repeatidly asking me if I am sure I normally take these little happy pills. Friend GG needs to get back to work so I am left waiting for the suspicious pharmasisit, who also has a questionable headband on (yes, apparently in 2017 men wear headbands too). Finally, questionable pharmacist hands me my package and I start to walk back towards the station. I have to pass a Wilko – they have amazing pick n mix – and an old fashion sweet shop – mmm apple sours – but I manage to stay on track and on my feet heading towards the station. The train is going to be 7 minutes late. For the £18 I’ve humbly paid, is expected at minimum an on-time train.

 

I decide to walk home or at least part of it. I’ll follow the bus route so I’ve got an easy escape plan. I start walking and my body feels like jelly. It makes a change for my body to be the jelly one, it’s normally my brain. I think my muscles are in such shock that they’ve been asked to put one foot in front of the other continually today that they are now getting revenge at me. I walk past an organic food shop and head in. No, I really don’t need more food in the house but hey, that is me we are talking about. I buy some pesto, hazelnut biscuits, savoury crackers and… a punnet of strawberries. I’m sure they need washing but my body needs fuel so they are shovelled into my mouth. A bit of bacteria shouldn’t hurt, right? I stop and sit a couple of times urging my body not to go into full on shut down on me. Genuinely, I think I’m walking like Bambi on ice.

 

Once home – yes, I walked all the way – it’s straight into pjs and dressing gown before washing the remaining strawberries and consuming them. That’s a whole punnet I’ve eaten. Maybe Patient H wasn’t being completely stupid with his ‘binge on bananas’ suggestion. The strawberries take me over my daily calorie limit as defined by my fitness pal however, a) I’ve done a lot of walking, I mean A LOT and b) they are strawberries- this is hardly the biggest calorie crime of the century.

 

I get cracking on some Sudoku until supper which is a healthy microwave nuked one pot meal followed by yummy yogurt. I’m proud of myself today. My mood is slipping downwards but I am proud of myself. I don’t really care if anyone thinks that’s stupid, for me, it’s monumental.

 

I head to bed at a decent time having brushed my teeth and washed my face. I start reading (and re-reading as the concentration still isn’t that great) when Mum calls. She’s emailed me to apologise for being snappy on Sunday night, she was tired after clearing out the kitchen. I can’t face talking to her. She really doesn’t get what I’m going through and I need to take care of me tonight. I’d hoped all the walking and London (fresh) air would mean I fell asleep quickly. It doesn’t! I’m still awake at 00:45. Damn it. Let’s hope it’s good sleep though. Oh and by the way, I did ~16,000 steps today. That’s 15,500 more than when I was an inpatient!

 

The flowers don’t signify anything other than they made me smile, I hope they make you smile too.

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