Today is my three year wedding anniversary and the last thing I feel like doing is celebrating.
I know, I know. That sounds really harsh and I wish I didn’t feel that way but I’m just trying to be honest here.
I love my wife and I am so happy that we have spent another year of our lives loving, learning and growing together but the depression I feel today is getting the better of me.
I’m just tired…
I’ve been working two jobs for the past three months and I am always tired. I’m usually up for my day job at a property management firm at 6:40 am and I don’t get back home until around 12:30 am which means by the time I get in the house and wind down it’s somewhere around 1:00 am. Now, I’ve heard of people who can survive, and thrive, on just four to five hours of sleep but I’m just not that person. I am exhausted.
“Why am I subjecting myself to sleep deprivation?” You ask.
Well, it’s quite simple really, and the oldest reason in the book. It’s because I need more money to be able to provide for my family. I won’t go into the details because I believe I have gone into it all before on the website , but just in case you don’t see anything about it, feel free to ask me anything you want to know.
I’ve been averaging about 70 hours a week and as you can imagine it is physically draining. Add mental health instability and you have the perfect recipe for pure insanity. Somehow I’ve been making it all work. Well not somehow. I know exactly how I’ve been making it work.
I have generalized anxiety and just one quick Google search will confirm that it is not recommended for a person who manages anxiety to consume caffeinated beverages as it can exacerbate your symptoms and possibly trigger an attack. This isn’t particularly good news for someone like myself who is barely getting any sleep.
Since I don’t need any help having more anxiety attacks, I’ve been steering clear of coffee to keep myself awake and instead, I’ve been relying on sugar.
In all forms.
Cakes, cookies, pies, candy, sodas, juices, carbs, you name it, I’ve been eating it. My main go to, double stuffed Oreo’s. Oh, how I love those little chocolaty delicious bastards. So much so, that I’ve been clearing a whole pack of the sons of bitches in a matter of days.
When I stepped on the scale last night after another grueling sixteen hour day, the scale read 213.4. Since I was still fully clothed and had been eating about 2 hours before, I tried to dismiss the numbers and I went to bed. As soon as I laid down, I felt myself about to cry because deep down I knew the truth. I woke up this morning and weighed myself again to find that the needle had only barely moved to reflect an even 212 lbs.
Just 11 months ago I weighed 182 lbs.
I have been convincingly lying to myself, again, about the confidence I feel in my now sized 16 body. As a result, I semi-unconsciously put on another two pounds bringing my already out of line weight to a whopping 212 lbs.
212 lbs. 82 lbs over weight. I’ve gained 30 lbs in 11 months.
All the work I had put in to lose weight last year is now down the drain and the point was driven home more pointedly when I went to put on a special outfit I had picked out specifically for our anniversary today and my sized 14 pants just wouldn’t close.
So here I sit. At work. Depressed. In desperate need of a good cry that I likely won’t get today because today is supposed to be a happy occasion.
I’m struggling with life right now.
Struggling to keep face.
Struggling with maintaining energy.
Struggling with my weight.
Struggling with my mental health.
Struggling with feelings of resentment.
Struggling with depression.
Struggling with feelings of hopelessness.
I’m going to go put on my make up and slide on my new black boots. I’m get all dolled up and go to lunch with my beautiful wife and try to find a way to put myself in a festive mood because she deserves it.
Until next time…
Don’t judge me, you don’t know my life!