I feel like I have had too many “lost weeks” lately. And by that, I mean that I know I’ve done stuff; my house, husband, and dad duties, as well as hitting the gym, photo hikes, and Mindbender visits, but in the end, I don’t feel like I have anything to show for it.
While that may sound like I’m pulling a Sisyphus and once again skating too close to the edge of the sun with my depression1; my mood continues to plod along nicely in a positive direction. And while I won’t be writing any self-love books in the near future (unless it has to do with self-love in the PornHub/Biblical sense), it’s been nice to not be consumed with self-loathing for nearly all of my waking hours and give my brain a well-deserved rest. Many civilians (people not living with depression and also referred to as “normies” by author and podcaster Jon Moe) don’t realize the mental energy that goes into being depressed! You find yourself not doing anything and staying in bed for hours because your mind has been racing in hate mode since you looked at yourself in the mirror 24 hours ago and every insult hurled at you 35+ years ago instantaneously fills your mind as if it were two minutes ago and you spend days/months regretting the person you’ve become but through the depressive fog see no way to change. I (thankfully) am currently out of that fog and digress.
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Despite thinking that my days are running together like tears through the mascara of a drunken trailer park queen, I have proof of my slack exploits with this week’s collection of photos. Most, if not all, of the photos, were taken during short walks around Meridian Park. I’ve taken better; I’ve taken worse.
Chalk this post up to another post that didn’t need to happen but still happened anyway. The weather looks to be taking on a more summer-like feel this week, so hopefully, that motivated me to do something other than short walks between time in the gym. Speaking of the gym, Operation Pec Lift III is moving along nicely and I’ve even started to enjoy lifting heavy things for no reason. I’m hopeful that by this time next year I can stop tucking my pecs into the waistband of my stretchy “comfort” pants.
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Later.