Sorry for my blog absence.
I’m in a funk.
Ten pounds heavier than January 1st. Haven’t been doing well with my money. Haven’t worked out in over a week and a half. Overspent on dumb, frivolous stuff while I was at work in L.A. (see: buying two college girlfriends that live there an entire bar tab of drinks, over $110+, trying to take out a direct deposit advance to cover my irresponsible butt until I could get home, being denied because I’ve maxed out that option, being thrown into fretting that I would be stranded if for any reason my American Express for work were to be declined [has happened before since we are all on a credit limit and flights are booked all the time]. A scary, stupid thing I did to myself by trying to buy the love of others, something I promised myself I would stop doing.)
Feeling undervalued at work due to a re-org that has left literally everyone in their own, private office and me out in the open lobby behind the receptionist, playing greeter to anyone and everyone if for any reason he isn’t at his desk. It feels like a serious demotion. I came home and cried to M. on Monday. There are three empty offices that they are reserving for future hires. Next to impossible to not feel like they value the employees they don’t even have yet over me. My ego aches.
What I’m scared to admit is that my depression is creeping back up on me. I will never, ever hurt myself but defaulting to sleep / not being awake when left to my own devices is a different kind of hurting myself.
Toying with the idea of giving up booze for awhile if not forever since it’s a depressant and unhelpful to my predisposition to not get out of bed. I don’t drink a lot but I have wine often. Need to exercise or just MOVE in any capacity. Stuck in this cycle of beating myself up. I want to stand up, unzip this sad suit I’m in, step out. I can’t seem to muster it.
Hi, I’m B. and feeling sorry for myself. Productive, no?