climbing

if you've ever read on depression, you'll stumble over a line that says what helps is exercise. as in getting into a bit of sweat while you do something else than crawling from your bed to the loo and back. well, yes, it does help. when I do sports regularly, I feel better. now, the problem is: when you're really down, you just can't get yourself to do it. there's already problems getting up in the morning and dragging yourself to work.

which probably means I really climbed out of my hole now. and my monday, wednesday and friday nights after work are planned out. 3 nights a week, about 2 - 2,5 hours of pumping iron and marching over a treadmill and a body changes rather quickly. I can see it. not a smaller jeans size yet, but hey - I'm patient. I got time en masse and nothing better to do anyways.

since I've been going there, I haven't felt a need to cry on any of those nights at all. and the days in between, I've been trying to relax my aching body so much, I've been pampering myself and we all know that someone who's treated well won't feel a reason to fret. 2 flies with one swat.

I even found something like a gym mate. he's in his 60ies, looks like one of the 7 dwarves (which white hair and goatee and a round belly n all) and we exchange polite bonmots every time we meet there. is kinda nice, someone remembering ya, looking out for ya even.

it's the loneliness I've had hard times with over the past years. yeah, I know, it's normal that there comes a time when most people you've known from school or work or whereever just move away for work or because of their partner or they get married and have kids and just fall off your radar. and the two or three that stay around have their own lives they're struggling with and then ya only meet every coupla weeks for 2 hours and try to catch up... but in the end, going home every night to an empty house... most days not having one personal chat, not seeing anyone privately for months... that's what really got to me. so maybe it wasn't the worst decision finding a hobby somehow in public. while working on myself, spending some quality time with myself, treating myself better, exercising moderately.

ok, ok, I admit: I wanna be hulk by the time xmas comes ;)

and with all of this comes the moment when the rock-bottom ego climbs out, having left lots of the emotional trash, the self-doubt and self-hatred down there in the dark to fend for themselves. and I notice I'm not so bad. not feeling so bad either. and then I tell myself, I can do better.

I don't need to keep attached to a bloke who'll never give me what I need. who thinks I'm his personal troop support or toy or I dunno. I've grieved for long enough. I've wasted almost a decade to a memory. and it hasn't helped me, in no way. I've suffered like a dog and I've hurt myself for long enough. c'est ca, cheri, I've soddin' had it. I can do better than this.

I don't need you anymore, darlin'. go fuck yourself.