To Tell The Truth

Sorry y'all, but this peppy redhead has been missing the pep in her step lately and feels like gettin' it all off her chest might just help. You'll hang with her through this, right? (promise to be back to my ol' dumbass self--soon)

Y'all are my ever trusted and most favorite interweb friends, so, I can be honest with you. Truth be told, I haven't been totally honest. I mean, I have, it's not like I was tellin' lies, but, I'm sure at the same time, I haven't just laid it all out there. So, here goes.

I'm depressed.

Yep. There. I said it.

I've battled depression since I was a teenager. Sadly, this directly coincides with body image issues. Had those since I was a teenager as well. Ironically enough, pre High School, I felt great about myself and was an kick ass gymnast and later won regional championships for vaulting. Oh how I miss horses..... Anyways, I was strong, powerful and could do something very few people could do. After all, can you stand on one leg atop a moving horse? Didn't think so.

Anyways, HS tore me up and then when I got to college, it got worse. I went to one of the most beautiful schools where every single girl (it seemed) was a size 00, tall, blonde and gorgeous. I am 5ft, not a size 00 and not beach blonde. I hated myself.

Sure, I was co-captain of our crew team and we did great (won our first race--whoot!), and could lift weights with the boys (yes, we had our weight workouts with the football players--hilarious memories to this day). But I was miserable. I wasn't your standard waif like coxswain. Nope. I always teetered on the line of "needs to lose weight". That sucked.

My roommates could eat pizza all night and not gain a single ounce. If I looked at a piece of pizza, I'd go up a size.

After my mom died, I went through a very dangerous phase of well, not eating anything. My sister had to be flown out to Texas and force feed me. Literally. I remember being in tears at the mall because she bought me a cookie and I refused to eat it. I had lost 15 pounds in 3 months. I felt fantastic (even if I was so tired I could barely stay awake past 8PM). I was in control. I was a size 00 for the first time since 8th grade. I looked good in a two piece.

I moved home for the summer and kept it up, only gaining about 2-3 pounds back. After all, I worked hard to look like this and I was not going to give it up.

Well, eventually, I gave up and had gained back most of the weight by the time I got married a year later. But, I looked better--I was toned and happy. Happy! I had a blast running around Hawaii in a two piece and sporting short shorts.

Somewhere along the line, I lost that. I don't know why my happiness is tied to the way I look, but, it is.

Last year, I went on Weight Watchers and lost the weight--never getting back to my college days skinny, but, getting to a weight that was normal for my height and build and a weight where surprise, I could eat, but not be unhappy.

Last summer, things were good. I was skinny, I was training for a marathon, my husband was done with school and he was training for a Century Bike Ride. We were endurance athlete all stars.

Then, as the months ticked by, the weight crept up and the depression came back. I got sick. A lot. I was stressed. I was unhappy.

I still am.

My husband still doesn't have a job. He's been out of school for a year. It's been really hard on him. He wants to work. He wants to provide for us (I on the other hand am quite happy to be at home). But, he can't. This has not helped the depression.

Don't get me wrong, I love my job, I'm very fortunate, but, at the end of the day, I don't feel like this is what I'm totally meant to do forever.

So, right now, I'm stuck.

I'm stuck in a land where I'm 20 pounds heavier than I was last year. Stuck in a place where I work so that we can survive. Stuck in a place where I try to be strong for my family because at the end of the day--it's freaking hard to be unemployed. Stuck in a place where I just hold my breath and pray for the best. Pray that tomorrow there will be a job. Pray that tomorrow I can get up and run the weight off. Pray that tomorrow will be better than today.

And then I wait some more.

I've used running as my shield. My "only". The definition of who I am for hopes that I could run off the weight, run off the depression and if I could just crack my marathon time goal, everything would be OK. I'd be happy again and then I could solve everything.

Well, shocker, that didn't happen. Or work.

And I don't know what will.

Thank you for sticking with me through all this. And especially through this terribly horrible post that I've just written.

I'm so grateful to all my blog friends who never cease to amaze and inspire me. I'm so grateful for you friendships and hope you know that. So, thank you.

I just thought that by sharing the honest to goodness truth, someone might be able to related. Or maybe I'll just feel better.

We'll see.

(GlamNewlywed, I'll be at home watching Burn Notice on repeat if you'd like to join me--because Michael Weston makes it all better)