In the last 18 months I have gained 40 pounds. I’m not proud of that, and I stopped being angry about it, it is what it is. You see the funny thing about battling depression is that it makes you not care about stuff that you really should care about….like your health and well being. There have been many days where the ONLY thing I care about are my dogs.
And that’s what made me smarten up in the last month…because I noticed that Wheaton was looking (and feeling) heavier. Apparently my health can go to shit and I can eat crap and pack on fat like a bear preparing for hibernation….but I cannot, and will not, let my dogs’ health and fitness decline because of the neglect to my own health.
So. No more chips. No more fast food 3 (5) times a week. No more bread/toast as a meal. No more ooey gooey cheese on…well everything. No more chocolate bar as an evening snack (or two). No more crap. We need to step up our walk routine again. We use to do 3 walks a day, at a minimum of 20 minutes per walk. Now it’s “ok, you peed, let’s just go home”.
It’s hard. I’m exhausted by life most of the time. What I was putting into my body as “fuel” has a lot to do with feeding that exhaustion. Of course I know better. Duh. I’m not new to this concept. I do it like a life cycle every year or two. But this time, this time was the worst. The highest weight I’ve ever been, and absolutely the worst I’ve ever felt physically. The deepest rut I’ve ever been in.
So. Deep. So. Dark. Man, it sucks.
Oh yeah, I live with anxiety too. So while I’m dealing with the depression and I don’t want to function in the outside world, I’m also dealing with the anxiety about NOT functioning…but the outside world makes me more anxious.
How’s that for a kick in the face? Like a snake enjoying a great meal, of its own tail.
The idea though that I was suddenly putting my dog in an unhealthy lifestyle really upset me. Me, eh, whatever; fat, sore, depressed, anxious, exhausted…actually having chest pains and not being able to walk a flight of stairs….meh…. But my dog puts on weight and gets even close to borderline edge of being too heavy for his actual size….HOLD ON! STOP! Smarten up!!!!
Whatever it takes right. Whatever puts you back on track. Something was necessary to kick my own ass back on track and the deterioration of my health wasn’t enough this time….but my dog was. It’s not even that Wheaton is fat, he’s not. His silhouette still follows the rib cage and curves in before the hips…just like it’s suppose to but he has filled out more and I don’t want it to get to the point where he is too heavy. So I need to make changes to myself now to make sure he stays fit.
The problem is I have to get myself back to the level where I can do more to help him. It’s been a tough month trying to break these bad habits. I’m still exhausted even with fueling my body better. The depression doesn’t go away. The anxiety doesn’t go away. Although they do subside once my body gets use to the healthier diet and lifestyle again. My hormones have always been messed up and things don’t function right, my pituitary glad has never sent the right signals out to the rest of my body in 44 years. My metabolism’s spirit animal is the sloth. My body really likes to store fat, it doesn’t let go of it easily. It’s going to be strict discipline and hard work. It’s going to be a fight against what I really feel like doing….I really just want to crawl into a cozy blanket on the couch and shut out everything. I want to “hermit” away. And the fur babies will just as gladly curl up on the couch with me…they love a cuddle more than a walk. Well, Wheaton probably enjoys the walks more I guess…but he does whatever Daisy does….and she definitely would choose a cuddle over anything else!!
I do however pride myself in giving my dogs the best in life and the idea that I am dropping the ball for them, well, that’s just a low I don’t want to be at, ever.
By doing better for my dogs, I will actually do better for my SELF.
I can live with that.