Feel Tha Burn Dangit!

I’m trying some optimism here recently.  I won’t lie and say I feel fantastic and I’ve been bludgeoned with an optimistic magic wand or anything, but things just might be looking up.  I’ve been reminded of some things that are fairly obvious, but have gotten lost somewhere in the recesses of my mess of a brain.  For instance, exercise=warm fuzzies.  Duh.  I hate HATE exercise, but I can’t recall a time that I walked away from a bout of aerobic-ness feeling anything other than elevated and accomplished.  What could be bad about that?

The problem is, I have a hard time finding the motivation to actually do it.  The actual physical movement, getting up, putting on the shoes and the bitchin outfit (gag), and beginning some form of physical activity.  A vicious cycle is what it is!  Depression causes a lack of motivation.  Lack of motivation and energy cause a decrease in physical activity, which causes a drop in serotonin levels.  Low serotonin levels cause depression.  How does one stop this endless circle of crap?  Beats me, but I’m going to try and figure it out or at least get some insight.

I  joined a frickin gym.  Forked over the cash and committed.  Why?  Because a psychiatrist told me I had to.  Dude says, straight up, “All the pills and all the counseling in the world will not help with your depression if you don’t get at least 30-45 minutes of aerobic exercise every day.  You go now and get a gym membership, kay?” Genius.  I can really appreciate someone being “straight up.”  It’s actually quite refreshing.

Makes sense right?  Totally logical.

Brain cells use transmitting molecules, called neurotransmitters, to communicate with each other. Serotonin is a neurotransmitter that modulates mood, appetite, sexual desire and sleep patterns. While certain antidepressants increase serotonin availability, the mood-altering effects of exercise suggest a potential link between physical activity and serotonin production. Read more: http://www.livestrong.com/article/182951-exercise-serotonin/#ixzz10Wa6JxL6

So.  I did good, right?  Well, hell no.  I signed up on Wednesday.  I have been to the gym to actually work out a whopping total of zero times.   Monday and Tuesday, I walked with my parents around their neighborhood for 30 minutes, but when I went and made the gym move, I think the air was let out of the balloon.  WAH WAH WAH!  POOR PITIFUL ME! I need a good swift kick in the ass.

Any takers?

Okay, okay, settle down, you can all have a turn.  Single-file line please.   Hey!  No pushing.  Let’s act like grown-ups, people!

I need to make a confession here.  I’ve been seeing a therapist for a few months now, trying to beat this thing without medication, but during one of the more recent sessions, she told me that according to what she was hearing, I most definitely needed to see a psychiatrist and have a go with the pills.  I’m not going to lie, I was kind of relieved.  I’m a pretty tough chick, but sometimes I need a jumpstart.  A foundation.   Antidepressants are not a cure-all.  There is no magic pill.  The medications are meant to be one of many tools, when used together, form the therapy needed to treat depression.

I’m hoping that the medication will give me enough of a foothold to find just a modicum of motivation.

Get this though.  I went to see this doctor on Monday (after waiting nearly a month and a half to see him at all) he wrote the prescription on the little paper, I took it to the pharmacy to have it filled, but have yet to see the damn pills.  The prescription was written for the brand name.  Of course the insurance denied coverage.  One would think it would be fairly simple to call the doctor and request a new prescription for the generic, but no.  When you call the office, you don’t get the privilege of speaking to a living breathing human being, but you have to leave a message for whoever.  I have left 4 messages with this office and I have seen neither hide nor hair of a call back.  Give me a frickin break.  Now, I have to begin again as soon as Monday rolls around.  This whole situation is not helping my anxiety at all.  What. The. Hell?

Anyway, back to the exercise thing.

Funny story:  When I was signing up at the gym, the guy suggested a “Spin Class.”  I said to him, “Yes, that would be fantastic!  If you enjoy scraping human remains off the asphalt in your parking lot.”  Do I LOOK like the type of broad that’s going to join a Spin Class?  I would die and Spongebob Buffpants would get a real kick out of that, now wouldn’t he?  What an asshat.

I guess it was just too obvious.  It’s common sense that everything is connected,right?  If you feel physically good, it’s hard not to feel psychologically good.  If it’d been a snake it woulda bitten me.

I really do like the little thingy they give you to put on your keys, though.  YAY!

Now, all I need to figure out is how to move my pitiful ass in the direction of the gym.

I would love some feedback, if you’ve got any brilliant ideas…

Yeah, I missed the linky, but we all know I’m a fan of breaking the rules. Sorry Dons. I won’t let it happen again. Love you guys! (read: please don’t put a hit out on me. I’m still a loyal made man. I’m begging you!)

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