Today is Not That Day

I had plans for today. Silly, totally doable plans. I was going to go get my audiogram at the university, come home and work, eat healthy foods I’d pre-made, walk the dog, and go for a short run since the weather is lovely today.

I did not accomplish much on that totally doable list.

I got myself to the university for my hearing test, and thought I’d probably show a decline in hearing and fluid in my inner ear. I was correct. After I got home and began working, I got a phone call from the ENT’s nurse saying I needed to be on Prednisone for the fifth time in a handful of months.

That dislike of Prednisone and my utter frustration at everything going on with my health led to my depression kicking in. I couldn’t concentrate on my work. All I wanted was to sleep and hide in my bed. I wanted to browse through Instagram and Facebook and all the videos of cute animals until I went numb.

So I slept and would have slept for hours (instead of one) if I didn’t get hungry when my alarm went off–my attempt to jolt myself into getting back to work. I ate all the snacks food in the house: rice crackers, hummus, black bean chips, a banana with peanut butter, and half a pint of coconut milk ice cream. (Not all at once; this is what my “lunch” and “snack” looked like between 11:00am and 6:00pm.)

I hid under my weighted blanket while The Hunger Games played beside me on my laptop. I suppose I was trying to remind myself that with the political climate these days, I should probably go on that run to prepare for such a future scenario of games…

I went over and refreshed feeds in an attempt to cheer up.

I cuddled with my dog.

I felt sorry for myself and cried.

And I think I needed it. Sometimes, I think I need to not be so hard on myself and give myself permission to not struggle through depression. On these days, it’s okay to ignore the world in order to let the depression play out so I can function tomorrow.

I’m a perfectionist, and so any time I’m not performing to my expectations I berate and belittle myself. I guilt-trip myself and think “I should be working” or “I should be exercising” the whole day. When my depression gets bad, perhaps I just need to take a step back to let my mental health recover.

I had that realization and immediately felt a little lighter–enough so that I could go downstairs to grab my iPad and write. That’s something. It’s what I’m capable of today. And I need to believe my own words: it’s okay.