Have I mentioned how much I love getting older?
I know my body so much better than at any other point in my life. I am in tune when something is amiss. I can use mental imagery to soothe many of my headaches. I know the little things that work on certain days, and the other things that work for ailments on others.
It's a wonderful place to be, especially considering that age brings many more of these issues.
This also goes for my neurological quirks. I have vocal tics that, I'm pretty sure, even my husband has never noticed. I have some motor stuff. Minor, and again - hidden from the rest of the world.
Despite my healthier diet, simplified life and destressification of as many things as possible, my dear friends Depression and Anxiety still like to hang out on occasion.
The last three weeks Depression has been in the house. Or, should I say, in my body. I can identify and label it quickly these days. This particular round has been due to a cornucopia of things, most of which are completely beyond my control. Yet, how I respond and help my body recover is completely up to me.
Oh ... and the things which work best to do this are the very things depression works directly against.
I have to move.
I have to make a "To Do" list of at least three things and then bribe myself to do them.
After I fix the ice maker, I can finish watching that movie.
When my bedroom is decluttered, I can catch up on blogs.
Once the showerhead is replaced, I can read for awhile.
Depression tells me to sit. I feel heavy. I feel a dark weight upon me. It's not laziness. I don't want to do ANYTHING, not even mentally. You would think that is when I get my best writing done, but nope. It fogs my brain. My body is sluggish, but my mind is racing (NOT in a productive way). It is a very specific chemical shift. The best thing I can do is to move - not do another project that requires sitting. I must physically be moving to shift my energy and change my brain.
I'm a big fan of the timer. I set a time for 15 minutes. I do SOMETHING that requires a physical act for 15 minutes ... picking up, moving something, sorting, watering outside, pulling weeds, cleaning out the fridge ... whatever.
I may have to do this several times a day. Once may be just enough to snap me out of it and redirect my chemistry to work for good.
I have accomplished my "To Do" list for the day. Now, I'm going to go out back with the girls and hoop. I'm gonna' learn to shimmy that dang thing up to my neck, if it kills me. I will move, even if it's pathetic. Hopefully, by tomorrow, I will be able to write about something else!
UPDATED to say: I DID IT, DANG IT!!