I’m pretty low this weekend.  After over a month of high stress, I just feel wiped.  I’m cranky.  I’m sure that digging into past abuses is a big part of it.  I’m reading a book called Courage to Heal.  I think I need to take it slowly, so I’m putting the book down for the rest of the weekend.

On the physical front, I’m using an app called Lark. I love numbers and stats, so when it told me my movement was really low, that helped kindly kick me in the butt last night to go to the gym at 10pm.  It felt good to blast the music and shut off my head.

Today I started worrying because I’m losing weight.  What a messed up conundrum.  I’m unhappy when I’m overweight, and I worry when I lose weight.  When I’m manic, I can lose double digits in less than a month.  My coach is happy that my weight is going down, but I can’t help worrying that I’m getting sick.  Logically I know that it’s cutting out sugar in my coffee, eating healthier and walking an hour or more every day, because I live downtown now. I just get so sad and frustrated that this disorder causes me to question positive things in my life.

I just realized I started writing about depression and slipped into fears of mania.  I’m not sure where my head is right now, but I’m trying to stick with weekly blogging as a way to take care of myself and talk through the feelings I keep hidden.  Maybe next week I’ll feel clearer.