Since the election last weekend things at home have been hectic. It seems like now that mom is here in santo Domingo taking care of business, all we do is eat, breathe, and sleep politics. I think that any desire that I may have had a week ago to help her out (or even be around her) has been slowly but surely drained out of my system.
I have been so stressed out that two days ago I flipped out and started screaming, and since that didn't do me any good, yesterday I went running. I ran until my knees were wobbly and the muscles in my legs burnt. That kinda helped. I ran until I was too tired to think.
But of course, for that I got bitched at.
My whole life I've found physical activity therapeutic. I wholeheartedly believe that naturally released endorphins are MOST OF THE TIME far more effective in helping you keep your sanity than the Prozacs and Zolofts and Lithiums of the world. In no way do I criticize people who need these drugs to remain normal; but for me, this is not the way to go.
Growing up I was always encouraged to do sports and work out. For me it was fun, and my mom thought that it was a good tool to control my weight since dieting during my teens was out of the question. It never made me skinny but it kept me healthy.
During my second year of college, when my mom moved here, I came with her. For the two years I was here, I was in a bad mood. For those two years, I had a job, went to school and worked out 3 hours a day. I was not skinny but I was healthy AND sane.
A lot has happened since then. I have lived in 4 different cities, had 5 different jobs, learned how to cook, found the joy in running, but I've also grown thin. Too thin according to most people. Yesterday I went to the gym to run my issues away and I got bitched at.
"you went running?!?!? why can't you stay home eating ice cream and watching TV like most normal depressed people?!?!? are you suicidal??"
Suicidal. I thought that was funny. I can't imagine myself running myself to death. If I was really suicidal I could think of a couple of more practical ways of killing myself, but whatever. I kinda see what they are saying because I have lost about 7 pounds since I've been here and am officially in the "underweight" section of the chart; but how can I trade my endorphins for ice cream?
Plus I don't even feel that skinny. I mean, I know that I am noticeably thinner than most of the chicks here because of what I like to call the "tits and ass factor" but back in NY, at least in my neighborhood, I blend in just fine and would probably continue to blend in if I were to lose another 10 pounds...Which I am not trying to loose...just like I didn't try to loose the other 7.
People stress me out. Off to run I go.