A study in sadness

There is no question or debate on whether or not I am depressed.  It’s clear that I am.  I haven’t blogged properly in ages.  I’m reading novels like they are going out of style.  I haven’t gotten any of my uni reading done.    I had four months worth of roots and gray to get covered up at the hair salon last weekend.  I feel miserable, tired, stressed, anxious, and sad.  I haven’t been able to hold myself accountable to things and people that I said I would.  I let others down.  I let myself down.  And that’s the worst of all.

And it’s probably going to bite me in the ass.

Yeah, I’ve managed the bare minimum in pretty much everything.  But we are talking hardly scraping the surface of so many things that have passed me by.  It’s sad and embarrassing.  Which in turn of course makes me feel worse about myself and then I get even more depressed.  And then I look at the calendar and see another year has gone by, rinse and repeat.

I’m totally unprepared for my 10K in 2 weeks.  Injury and now illness have screwed up my training.  I haven’t run in a week and I feel so frustrated over it as well.    I want to run, but I know it would be a bad idea until I am feeling far better than I am today.

There is also something that I *really* want to do, but once again I find myself being held back because of fears and sadness.  I am afraid if I go and do this, I will have a bad experience again or I will be laughed at (again) or it won’t be worth the time, stress, and money.  It’s rather frustrating to be on the outside looking in (still), at this age.