A Session at the Gym with Depression

I wrote this post earlier in the year on my phone while I was at the gym. For some reason today, I feel compelled to share this story. Depression was attempting to pull me in. A change of perspective is sometimes what I need. To be gentle with myself and not fight. To just let the day be and take it as it comes.

Writing is therapeutic for me and I felt like writing while I was at the gym this morning. I share with you, my unstructured and not overly edited thoughts:

I feel myself creeping into an episode of depression. I’m tired. I don’t care. I want to stay in my bed.

As I write this, I am sauntering on the treadmill at the gym. My daughter has dance class and that’s the only reason I am here. I’d much rather go somewhere and just sit in darkness. Instead, The Mountain rings through on my headphones.

The sun is shinning, a true spring day with melting snow and +8 as the high. I’ve been looking forward to using today as an opportunity to take my daughter to Birds Hill Park to walk around the beach, play on the structure, and have a picnic lunch.

I boiled eggs to make egg salad and the clock ticked too fast on my microwave clock. I thought I gave myself enough time to get out the door. I’ve been up since 6:30. Thankfully, traffic was not bad and we made it to dance class in time.

And now here I am on the treadmill. I’m looking around and wondering if there are other people here who feel like me today. Exercising but would rather be in a dark cave? How many are parents who have kids in programming and use the hour to move their bodies.

I’ll be honest, I want to turn this treadmill off and find a bench to sit on. It’s not the treadmill or the choice of equipment. I don’t even want to really lift weights, even though that does sound kind of fun.

Lifting weights does actually sound good. I’ve been on the treadmill for almost 16 minutes. I’ll stay for 10 more minutes and then go lift weights. Not in the actual weight room though. Not where the guys grunt and miss leg day. I wish more women worked out in there but I bet other women are wishing the same.

I guess it’s up to someone ballsy to go in there first. I wish my tights had pockets. Stupid women clothing designers! Boob sweat in the bra is where my cell phone will have to go.

Time is 19:10 on the treadmill and I’m listening to Women, Amen by Dierks Bentley. How fitting that he is singing about strong women. Alright, it’s settled, I’m going to lift weights…where the boys hang out.

And I am getting off the treadmill…… NOW!

I went into the weight room and did a bunch of random lifts. I’m taking Powerlifting classes so I did what I learned, plus other randomness that felt…right. Just right. There were two women in the weight room, both covered in tattoos. I like their style. On the surface, they don’t seem to care that the room is full of men and they are there to focus on themselves. Be like the women covered in tattoos.

And now, I am sitting on a bench looking at the clock. I want to do more of something, I just don’t know what. Find a mat and have a nap sounds real nice right about now.

I’m on a mat in pigion pose. Yoga is sometimes just as good as a nap. No, that’s a lie. Yoga doesn’t cut it sometimes as much as I enjoy it. Restorative yoga though is like a nap. A nap with purpose.

You done me good Mr. Cobra Snake. I smiled at myself in the mirror and someone smiled back at me. You’re the only snake I like.

I watched my daughter dance to Justin Timberlake and I felt my face smiling. The rest of the morning and early afternoon is devoted to childhood. Pure and innocent fun. Then I shall rest.

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