I finally dragged myself out to the gym today after two weeks of anxiety and four days of low grade depression. (The kind where I get things done, but every time I stop moving I feel like I want to cry a little. Then getting moving is even harder because I have a hard time believing my efforts make things better. I kind of earned this depression with all the non-stop to-doing, but it still doesn’t feel fun. Catching up on sleep was not making it go away. Hence: gym.) I went to the gym around noon. I took a nap. I dragged myself through making dinner. Then I sat down and wrote 2500 words. In the middle of that I folded some laundry and put kids to bed. The sadness had ebbed and the world feels good again.
This is not a coincidence and I need to point it out so that I will stop forgetting. Exercise and writing = well being and happiness.
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