I get up and start my day the same way I always do.
I go the bathroom, I brush my teeth, and I brush my hair.
I go out to the bedroom and put on my outfit for the gym.
I hear you whisper under your breath, ‘that looks a little tight on you.’
I ignore you and pull up my pants, put on my bra, t-shirt and my socks and wake up our kids.
I come downstairs to pack lunches and make breakfast.
The cinnamon from the cereal and French toast smells so good, I can almost taste it but you tell me, ‘it will go right to my thighs.’
I skip breakfast.
I go to the gym and work my ass off for forty-five minutes. The sweat and pain in each muscle almost feels not worth it. I see you murmur, ‘is it even working?’
I end my workout, and jump into my car. I crack the window because the cold, winter air feels good on my hot body.
I come home to take a shower and my body is naked and vulnerable. I see you in the mirror roll your eyes at my stomach rolls.
I get into the warm shower and the heat feels good on my muscles. I use a body cream that smells lovely and it makes me feel good about myself.
I towel off and you still scoff at me in the mirror. I look away pretending that you don’t hurt my feelings.
I go back out to the bedroom and turn on the ceiling fan because just taking a shower makes me sweat. I lay there thinking about what I have to do to get through the day.
I sit up and get my self dressed again to start the rest of my day.
I come downstairs and drink some water because I can’t eat yet. You chuckle at me. ‘Like that is going to make a difference?’
I take a nap because depression is exhausting. I cuddle up with my dog and we sleep together for an hour.
The thought of moving once I awake is too much. Most days I just stare at the ceiling until someone is about to come home.
Finally I start to do something that makes it look like I was busy all day. I do the dishes or run the vacuum. Work on photography or start dinner.
I am proud of myself for at least getting up but I hear you scream, ‘this is all you did today? You are so lazy!’
I go into the bathroom to get away from you. I look up and I see you, staring right back at me.
It’s time to start talking back to the reflection. I go through my goals that I have accomplished.
You stare back at me listening to each bullet point. You listen to each segment of my life that I survived. I make a list:
1) I woke up today.
2) I got the kids ready for school.
3) I went to the gym.
4) I’ve officially lost twenty pounds.
5) I went from a 2X to an XL.
6) I went from a size 22/24 in dresses to a size 18.
7) I zipped up a pair of knee high boots and they fit my leg when they used to not even fit over my calf.
8) I wanted to go out to eat but instead I made lunch to follow my diet.
9) My jeans are too big.
10) I drank water instead of the soda I wanted.
11) I went to therapy and it was hard today.
12) I did the dishes.
13) I made dinner.
14) I was an uber driver to my kids to get them to and from their activities.
15) I tucked my kids into bed.
16) I kissed their sweet faces.
17) I was a good mom.
18) I was a good wife.
19) I cuddled with my husband.
20) I survived another day when I didn’t know how I was going to make it through.
And that is enough.
Until next time,
Sometimes you have to dig yourself out of the hellish depths of depression and make a fucking list.
BlackWhiteAndCrazy 