Went to the gym for 3.5 hours today. My gym buddy needed to work on something for school, so I had more flexibility. I tried out a pilates class, which was surprisingly difficult. I'm not sure if I really like it, but I might go again. After that I went on the Stairmaster (only 15 minutes, versus the 35 that left me sore last time) and a stationary bike for maybe 10 minutes... That was just to kill time before the cardio/strength class I was waiting for, though. Did a dance class after the cardio/strength one... I was feeling fine, so I figured, eh, why not.

Even though I wouldn't say I really "enjoy" the dance class, because I'm pretty uncoordinated and erm, physically inhibited I guess, it's a really good distraction, because I get so caught up trying to follow along that I can't think about anything else. The routine we did was the same one as the last time I went to that class, though, so I kind of vaguely remembered how to do some of the moves. I think the instructor used the exact same music, too... >.>

The dance class wasn't very intense at all, so I considered staying even longer at the gym than I did, but I didn't want to push it. I have to babysit tomorrow and I don't want to be super sore if I can help it. I might start going to the gym on my own, for longer periods of time, more once I stop getting so much muscle soreness, though. Lately I've been trying to eat more protein to help with it, since lack of protein might have been a factor in the soreness.

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I went to bed last night around 8:30 pm and ended up waking up around 5 am. Didn't want to be up that early, though, so I just lay there until I fell back asleep. I had two dreams that I remembered, but one of them made me really sad, and I've forgotten the other one now. The emotions from the dream kind of hung around me all day except for when I was at the gym. Now that I'm home, I feel kind of sad again.

There's a lot of work to be done in my head. Reorganizing and reframing and reconsidering. And recuperating.

I feel so tired...

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So, I babysat for nine hours today. That was an ordeal.

The baby is sick right now, so she spent the first five hours I was there crying and drifting off to sleep on my shoulder (as long as I held her in a very specific position that was uncomfortable for me). Kept wanting me to open the door to the garage, I'm assuming because she wanted her mom to be there.

[Spoiler: Her mom wasn't there.]

Before she left at 9 AM, her mom told me that the baby would probably want some food soon. Well, the baby refused to eat anything until around 1:30, when I decided to put her in her highchair so my arms could rest. I started eating a banana I'd brought for lunch, and suddenly bananas looked delicious and appetizing and the baby wanted some too. (Prior to that, I had offered her a banana no less than three times)

Eating some food did cheer her up... As did watching multiple hours of Sesame Street, which I'm not sure I should really have let her do, but it was the only thing that made her stop crying up until she ate. She finally wanted to play after I cleaned up her lunch, and then I took her out in her stroller and we walked around a local shopping center and the neighborhood for a little while.

Got back to the house. Instant crying again. Welp. Sesame Street didn't work that time, so I ended up just putting on the white noise app on my tablet (set to 'waves on the beach') and pushing her around in the dark in the garage for an hour. She fell asleep halfway through, and I tried to take her inside, but she woke up as soon as the light hit her, so I had to push her around until she dozed off again. Sneaked into the house, turned off the lights, carefully carried the stroller in, and waited in the dark for her parents to come home at 6 PM.

But, you know, I have to admit that as unpleasant as all that was to deal with for me, it was probably worse for the baby. She's pretty helpless and can only barely communicate verbally. She cries because that's her main way of getting her needs fulfilled. I imagine it sucks a lot to not really be able to do anything for yourself and have extreme difficulty communicating with the people who can help you. It's even worse that your primary method of communication in this situation is extremely unpleasant to others and can make them angry or upset with you.

Being sick and without her mother is probably one of the worst things the baby has experienced, too. It doesn't seem like much to me or the people reading this (I'm assuming, at least), but the baby doesn't have anything to compare it to. She doesn't understand yet that the bad feelings will pass, that they're not really all that horrible in relation to other things.

I'm lucky, though. I got to go home after those nine hours. Her parents get a break when they go to work, but they've had to deal with her being sick for well over a week now.

When I'm feeling uncharitable or unsympathetic towards crisis line callers I think about that a lot. Even if it gets frustrating to hear the same person's story over and over, and know they're not changing or getting better, it has to be worse to be them. I get to leave after my four hour shift. These people can't just leave their lives. Maybe it's tiring for me to hear about some guy's hypochondria and anxiety again and again, but he has to live that, and he doesn't get a break.

I am very appreciative that I have the option to go somewhere else and not be miserable all the time, and I try to express that by being more patient and compassionate with my callers/babysitting charges/hospice patients. What I feel is not as important as how I express it.

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I went to a cookie exchange tonight with my mom. It was three hours of middle aged women laughing and making jokes about wine. And complimenting each other. So... not exactly my scene.

There was a woman there who talked to me a bit about her children. I didn't tell her that I remembered her son, because it seemed a bit awkward. I only ever really had one interaction with him, and it was very brief, over a decade ago.

A decade ago... jeez... how can anything be that long ago?

It was actually at a party at the same house. I think I might have been twelve or thirteen, still in middle school. Some of the other children at the party were playing in the garage (the adults were taking up most of the space in the house), but I went to sit by myself in the backyard. After awhile, a boy came out and asked what I was up to and talked to me.

I'm sure he doesn't remember that, and it seems like such a trivial thing, but it felt like such a kindness at the time. I was very shy and anxious about talking to people my age, and the fact that he approached me made it a lot easier. Sometimes I wish I could talk to him and thank him for talking to me for a few minutes, but it seems like it would be really weird or awkward to do so.

I think that I've rarely ever really wanted to be alone, but for most of my life, I've had a hard time talking to people. It means a lot to me when people reach out to me, and I'm trying to do the same for others, when I can. Feeling included makes so much of a difference...

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I've been going to the gym fairly regularly with a friend. So far so good, we're going about twice a week for around two hours a time. I'm considering going more often, maybe by myself, though. I definitely like working out with her (it makes it so much better), but I think that maybe I'd like to go three or four times a week, and I don't think her schedule aligns with mine enough to make that possible.

Tonight we went to a class that the instructor described as "cardio hell"-- and it was... pretty tiring! I regretted eating dinner before going, because I felt a little sick from the exertion at first. Guess an hour and a half wasn't quite enough time to let the food settle. It got better as time went on, though, and I drank a fair amount of water, which maybe helped. After the class, we went to one of the unused classrooms and did some stretches and chatted, which was nice. My friend needed to go home a bit earlier today to work on a paper, so she left once we were done with that. I stayed awhile longer and went on the Stairmaster for ~35 minutes. I set it to burn 350 calories, which covers... one of the four slices of pizza I ate today, just about. >_> The entire pizza was around 2600 calories, and I ate half yesterday and half today... but that was like all my food for the day besides some fruit and a chocolate, so hopefully I won't get fat.

I think I have gained a bit of weight since starting at the gym, because it makes me feel hungrier than usual, and I think to myself, "It's okay if I eat ___. I worked out today!" Dumb reasoning. Considering it took 35 minutes to burn 350 calories, I don't think I can eat nearly as much as I feel like having.

I'm trying to tell myself that it's more about appearance/fitness than weight, though. I think I'd rather be 115 lbs and toned than 110 lbs and squishy. As long as I don't get close to or higher than 120 lbs I'll probably feel okay about things.

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Even though I am exercising somewhat regularly now, I'm not sure if it's helping my mood or not. Some nights I lie awake and feel this intense anxious dread about things, and it's hard to relax and hard to sleep. I'm also still having a hard time getting started with a lot of things, and I feel like my energy levels haven't really improved much overall. It's only been a few weeks, though, so maybe it just takes more time. I do feel more energetic right after exercising, which is part of why I want to try going to the gym more often, but I guess I was hoping I'd have more energy on the days I wasn't going, too. It took me like two days to motivate myself just to walk to the bank (which takes like 15-20 minutes) and make a deposit. >.> I dunno, it's hard sometimes.

There are days when it feels like trying to fight the depression is like trying to keep the tide from coming in by building walls in the sand, and all I have to work with is my hands. It's a really tiring, Sisyphean-seeming endeavor, and I want to give up a lot more than I tell most people. Sometimes it's what my mind jumps to before anything else. I've never successfully given up yet, though, and even though I don't know why at times, I know I have to keep pushing on. It's hard to believe that things will be good sometimes, but so far, acting as if they will be has seemed sufficient for the most part. Can't pay too much heed to the distorted thinking.

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"Money" by The Drums.


I wish I had enough money to buy people I care about presents whenever I felt like it. There are a lot of times where I see something and think "Oh, so and so would love that!" and I wish I could get it for them, but I can't really justify the expense. I like giving people things "just 'cause"... It's a less stressful/difficult way of showing affection or care than outright saying it.

Probably the same principle at work when I give people baked goods. Maybe giving gifts is one of the love languages I'm most comfortable with or something...

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