After depression and fibromyalgia have kept me a shadow of myself for so long, but even worse this past year and a half, I finally reached a point at which I had the strength, desire, and motivation to fight back, as well as the tentative belief that I could be successful at it. Why those aspects have been so elusive for so many years, I can’t even begin to explain. I *wanted*, more than anything, to get better, but I just felt entirely hopeless and helpless to do anything to get there, and it kept me completely immobilized. Suddenly, I decided to fight depression the only way I imagine has any chance of success: aggressively, or “tooth and nail”.
My new journey began at the beginning of the summer, scheduling activities for my kids outside of the house that I had to prepare for and get them to. It was a great start!
3 weeks ago, I began a new supplement regimen, which is supposed to focus on restoring gut health and supposedly helps a myriad of mental and physical health issues. I also began working to add veggies, and lower my calorie intake, especially sugars and cholesterol. I’m seeing changes, slowly, but it’s also a challenge to revamp my diet all at once.
2.5 weeks ago, my children and I began Martial Arts classes, twice a week, as well. I LOVE IT! I feel empowered each time I manage to get a technique down, and I’m enjoying working with my kids to ensure that none of us get left behind, and they realize that Mommy is working at least as hard as they are and not giving up. HOWEVER, it is, without a doubt, the most physically difficult and painful thing I have ever chosen to do, besides becoming a parent. I’ve come home in tears once, hardly able to move most times, and had the worst asthma attack of my life on the first day. The determination it takes to nearly have to drag my daughter out the door, as she complains that “it’s hard and it hurts”, while I’m taped up with KT tape, because the previous day I was hardy able to walk, is rather impressive, actually. I know that she will thank me for it, one day, when she begins to feel strong and confident in it, and despite her typical “tween” attitude and protests, I see a different story in her eyes during class, as her accomplishments are acknowledged and encouraged.
Still, there are days when I feel like I’m not doing enough. The house is still a wreck. I’m always behind on laundry. I can’t figure out how to get my 5 year old to eat something beyond the 4 processed foods and one fruit that he willingly eats. And, yesterday, I thought I accidentally threw away my $1K dentures (cheapest option, but still all we could afford)! I felt like the chewed up gum on the bottom of someone’s shoe, at that moment (as we were running late to martial arts, btw!).
I’m still on antidepressants, and I can’t imagine being well enough to leave them behind, but I’m off of my extra supplemental medication, and doing ok.
I’m fighting, while I can, as hard as I can, and not giving up.
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