depression

I seem to have hit a low point.  And what a low point it is turning out.

I’m not sure what’s wrong.  I’m not sure if I could even hazard a guess.  I don’t think I would have any idea where to start; or I do know where to start, just I don’t know if that, or these issues, are the major contributing factor of if they’re merely a coincidental side or lesser issue.  I just don’t know.

Over the last couple of weeks it’s been something that’s been constantly there.  I thought that it had something to do with needing some alone time – before the housemates went away for a holiday.  That seemed to do the trick for a bit.  While it was just me it was grand.  I was grand.  I really had a good week and a bit; but then boom…straight back into it when they returned.

Yesterday afternoon was the first time that I’ve really considered depression as a source of all this anger, emptiness, hopelessness and loneliness that I’m feeling at the moment.  I really don’t like to think that I’ve depression; and thinking about it, pondering my life, while on the beach yesterday afternoon I googled it.  None of the signs & symptoms immediately rang a bell with me, but today things seem different.  There’s a whole new light on things, particularly since I cooked an awesome meal for dinner.

Yesterday was terrible.  I was so irritable and temperamental.  I literally could feel an almost overwhelming sense of frustration or even internalised anger.  I was like that all day.  Like I wanted to do something to get rid of the pent-up anger and frustration; perhaps even energy that I had in my system, but there was nothing there that could or would help.  I was washing up and burnt my hand twice on the fucking kettle cause it’s a tiny sink and it’s kept in the wrong fucking place.  I remember shouting ‘fuck’ very clearly and very loudly and I’m sure that everyone outside would have heard it.  I just didn’t care that people heard that.  I wanted simply to go away and not have anyone bother me.  But that wasn’t happening.

Today wasn’t so bad.  I suppose the ginger didn’t whinge as much this morning; and things were a little better at work today.  I don’t know why my moods are so up and down.  Perhaps I’ve bipolar.  I just don’t fucking know.  Anyway, I got sent home from work early, with instructions to make dinner, which I did.  The dinner was delicious.  All was good after dinner just involving watching telly & checking some emails.  On the way to bed I heard the patient get up and do something.  Wondering if I’d forgotten to turn a light off, or the computer or something I went round and asked exactly that.  They both stared blank faced at me & then he said that he got up to shut the front door.  Both of them laughing saying ‘I’ve no idea what she was talking about’ as I turned and walked to the shower nearly had me in tears – I just slammed the bathroom door (unintentionally) and got in the shower.  I felt as though they were laughing at me; not even considering the though behind the question that I’d asked.

It’s so isolating.  All the little jibes directed at me, about me, or about something I do.  It makes me feel alone, isolated and worthless.  Like I’m only here to wash up and cook and for them to have a common ground as someone to pick on or make fun of.  It’s like I can’t take a joke about me anymore.  I think that the only reason that I’m like that is that I feel at the moment as though I need to be a bit on the defensive cause there’s no one else here that will stick up for me.  And there’s not.

I’m not happy.  I don’t want to do this anymore.  But at the moment I feel as though I’ve no choice.  I just have to stick this out until I get the call that I start in a month.  As soon as the testing’s done and my start date gets set I’ll be off – probably just chilling and training somewhere.  But that’s the issue.  I get more training done here than I do anywhere else, the only exception being Vegas; but Vegas is a money issue at the moment.  It’s just more in the lifestyle here.  But, long-term I think the decision about coming here for the FYC is made – I’m going to ask for Vegas, and hope like fuck I get it.  If not, I’m not sure where I’ll go next.

In the shower tonight I was thinking about the isolation thing, and if it is in fact what is causing me all these problems.  I think it is.  I think that being lonely cause I feel like there is no emotional support there is driving my frustration and anger.  I want a girlfriend.  I want someone who cares about me, and I want someone who I can talk to while I know that they will support me, not continually pick at things that I do – and only focus on any mistakes that I might make.

It probably doesn’t help that since their return the ginger porker doesn’t want anything to do with me.  He doesn’t want anything to do with anyone but the patient to tell the truth, but it’s ridiculous.  He takes absolutely no notice of me – today in fact he stopped in his tracks at seeing me on the lounge chair.  The little fucker.  That actually made me feel really bad.  The patient said something to him about not liking me today so I said ‘well, the feeling is mutual’ and was promptly told that it was not a very nice thing to say.

How the fuck am I supposed to react.  Before they went away he was perfectly happy to be around me and now he fucking doesn’t want a fucking thing to do with me.  What am I supposed to feel about that, and how the fuck am I supposed to react to that.  I said to the matriarch today that I can not be bothered persisting if he continues to show no interest whatsoever in communicating with me, or being near me.  She said that was a shame cause he was ok before they went on holidays.  It seems as though the terrible twos have hit – and he’s exploiting every single second of it.

He’s going to end up so spoilt.  His screaming has escalated since he got back from holidays with his parents.  He isn’t hurt, or hungry or thirsty – he’s screaming, and it really is just a scream; a fucking awful scream, cause he wants the patient to pick him up.  And sure as night follows day, that’s what happens.  He seeks out the patient and stands, screaming at his feet.  Initially the patient might say no, but guaranteed within about 20 seconds he’s given in and is bending down to pick him up cooing ‘what’s wrong sweetheart?’ at him.  He’s fucking 18 months old.  He can’t understand, let alone answer you.

More seriously though, he’s rewarding this inappropriate behaviour from the ginger.  Although he might not see it as a reward in terms of ‘here, have this for doing that well’ he’s providing positive reinforcement for the behaviour by providing a positive outcome (attention/being picked up) when the stimulus behaviour (screaming) is turned on.  I think that the Aunt has tried to get the patient to see this, but it’s not working.  They end up having a massive row over it with the patient saying ‘he’s my son, I’ll pick him up whenever I want to’.  It’s just spoiling him; and he’s starting to be a little fuckhead.

It’s basic fucking psychology.  If you reward bad behaviour it’s going to teach him that he gets what he wants when he behaves badly.  And how hard is it going to be to get him to stop when he’s 3.  It’s not going to happen.

skinny dipping

Just finished a non-training day. Worked this morning then lazed by the pool for the majority of the afternoon. It was awesome too. I jumped in the pool to cool off then finished Lance Armstrong’s ‘It’s Not About The Bike’. Wow, what a story. A story of courage, determination and beating the odds. Strangely though I didn’t really find it all that motivational. More sobering, and humbling. Truly humbling to think a man could win the Tour de France seven times after beating cancer and surviving chemotherapy.

A lot of what he said about training for his initial Tour win rang bells with me. He was completely methodical, deliberate and analytical about his training. He analysed everything. Everything from his workouts – every little statistic to his nutrition. He graphed calories versus wattage, heart rate versus wattage and trained on the things, the areas that he knew he needed to see the most improvement to achieve his overall goals.

I know that I can be very analytical about things; not to the extent of graphing everything, but I could see how I could get to that point.

In other news, I think I’m starting to see some results in terms of weight loss around my rather substantial gut. I just think that I’m getting a little narrower below my waist, although there is still a long way to go. I honestly think that the week and a bit of just having meat & green veg for dinner, and really concentrating on eating better has done the trick and got me over the initial hurdle. Now it’s just a matter of maintaining consistency and effort in both diet and training. I’m really enjoying the training, but think next week I need to focus more on doing some longer sessions, perhaps some run/bike sessions. We’ll see how I go. I think the recovery week, although hard (and slightly worrying about breaking the habit) has been good for my body, and motivation. Train hard next week and I might just find the money for a massage.

the f word

I’m told, by my FT 60 that this is to be an easier training week.  I wasn’t really all that sure why cause last weeks’s stats were down on what I considered to be an easier week, although I have smashed my training and body in the last few weeks.  No wonder it’s telling me it’s time to dial it back.

I’m grumpy as anything today and consequently saying the f word quite a lot.  I could eat the face off anyone who annoys me.  And nearly everyone is annoying me in one way or another.  I’m just grumpy.  This girl at work is an idiot.  She’s an idiot at the best of times but today she’s being particularly annoying (perhaps I’m perceiving that she’s more annoying cause of my lowered bullshit tolerance level) today, and she’s doing it on purpose.  FARK!!  Just laziness, and immaturity – she would rather ask for help before looking herself of trying to do whatever it is that she has to do. 

She’s 16, so I guess that explains the immaturity.  She quit school and moved out of home just a few months ago.  Her father also died earlier this year, and I’m not completely compassionless to that; I’m sure that it would be one of the things that I would most struggle to deal with; but that’s no reason for her to leave school.  Her english, and spelling, is terrible.  She really should be at school still, learning to spell and speak english properly.  I cam so close to telling her that she had the english of a 10 year old when she was pronouncing badminton ‘bat-minton’.  Idiot.  She’s a classic case of an occa who needs more education.  She also needs to be corrected when she says the wrong words, like ‘how are yous’.  Yous is not a word.

Anyway, she’s annoying me today, so much so that I needed to come to the other shop to get away a bit.  I think I’m also annoyed at my own performance last night.  I drank too much and didn’t sleep at all well.  Not cool.  We spent all weekend fencing – tearing down one fence and putting up a 6 foot colourbond fence in its place.  It was hot all weekend, and save for little bits here and there we were out in the sun all weekend.  Although I didn’t really do that much work with the crowbar I still felt as though I was tired – and in need of a drink last night.  The frosty beers were good too.

smashy smash

I’m not overly sure what the hell I was thinking when I decided to do a crossfit style 300 workout today.  I must be insane.

The workout

20, 5 for time

16 laps

squats

push ups

db bent over row – 7

crunches

10 laps

db thrusters – 7

db to shoulder – 10

reverse crunches

db swings – 10

1/2 burpee

Time: 11:10 for 20; 14:30 for total

5 k cycle – level 1 – 8:48

As I said.  I’m not sure what the hell was going on in my head.  It hurt.  Like hell.  It was some form of redemption for the shit that I’ve been doing to myself since I left NI; but there’s still such a long way to go.  Thinking back, and looking at my polar stats and previous workouts on here I’m fucked.  I’ve nothing on what I had.  So much training was let go.  And now it’s going to be so much harder to get back.

26:33

378c, 12%

AHR:176

MHR: 190

I don’t know how on earth I got through it. I know when I’ve worked hard.  I literally laid on the tiles for about 5 minutes, listening to whatever was coming out of the ipod.  It was literally just on whatever it wanted to be on – I didn’t care.  I was just sorting myself out, wondering if I wanted to throw up.  Wondering if I was going to throw up.  Not wanting water, but then not being able to stop drinking it.  An hour or so later when I headed out to the range I was still feeling as though a big old rainbow yawn might be heading my way at any time.

I’m so so tired now, I just want to go to bed, although I’m afraid to go too early for fear of waking really early, again.  I’m exhausted, but there was a switch flipped at golf today…I’m now motivated.  It came back again!

Zzzzzzzz

insomnia

Golf today.  Last night was horrendus – 3.30am I was still wide awake.  I’d shifted posts, from my bed to the couch in order to create a mind numbing effect that I hoped would put me to sleep.  No such luck.  I finally drifted off to sleep at about 5am; then woke with a start, in a panic at 6.20 to my alarm.

In the back of my mind I doubted the saneness of presenting myself for golf running on about an hours sleep.  I questioned my ability to concentrate for 18 holes, particularly while carrying my clubs.  They get heavy when it’s hot.  Surprisingly it was all good.  I honestly questioned my ability to keep focus through 3 hours, or more of golf, when I was tired; or suspected that I was going to be tired.  I wasn’t tired at all really.  My average heart rate was up for the session, probably a little to do with fatigue, but other than that I thought my concentration was fine.  I was hitting my gap and 60 well, but Mr 5 Iron isn’t working so well at the moment.  May head to the driving range this afternoon to do some work on that.  Also some chipping and putting – it can always do with work.  I putted quite well today – 35 putts for the 18 so that was good.  I had 4 x 1 putts and a couple of 3s, but was happy enough.  I kissed the hole quite a bit, and nothing really wanted to drop, but I was giving it a chance at least.  There were really only two holes that I lost concentration with my putting – think the rest just came down to whether the 2nd putt dropped or not.

End of the day I came in with 77 off the stick, which was +13 for the 18 holes.  I was shocked when I realised that I’d come through the back 9 only 3 over, but that included a nice birdie on the 18th (not at the end of the day due to the shotgun start) from at 5 – 6m putt.  Nice.

3:45

1484 c, 47%

AHR: 116

MHR: 153

Something, somewhere deep down in me switched today.  It was like I had my eyes opened, or considered another possibility, analysed performance differently and suddenly was aware of this massive factor that I’ve been happily omitting from all golf analysis.  Fitness. I’m certainly not the fittest person in the world.  And I am certainly not the least fit person waddling around.  I’ve been thinking I get about alright, carrying my clubs and managing still to do ok.  While talking with the spy (so named cause I’d bet that she was one; in a recent life), discussing my round on Sunday I realised that it’s the back 9 that usually causes me grief (with the exception of today, given that it was a shotgun start).  It’s not as though I’ve been completely oblivious to the whole golf and fitness thing, I guess I just didn’t really recognise the impact on my game until I thought about it in comparison to my performance.  Looking back at my polar results from when I was playing in NI, even though I wasn’t playing as well, I don’t think that I was hitting the hump until later in the match – usually about the 17th.  Comparing that to my training later in the day (yes, this is an update of this morning’s blog) I was so much fitter back then.  I also used to carry a full set of waterproofs with me, every single match, and much more food/water than I am at the moment.  Indicative of higher fitness levels.

Went to the driving range this arvo to teach Mr 5 Iron a lesson.  Didn’t really work.  Was shagged from my mid afternoon session, and still not really sure whether I wanted to be sick or not.  My body just felt fatigued, and I had to work really hard to keep my ‘technique’ tight.  My average heart rate was also higher, despite standing there whacking it, and not carrying any clubs anywhere.

1:29:45

630 c, 44%

AHR: 120

MHR: 144

And I’ve decided I need some stats on my site.  Not from all up, from now – this time round.  Aussie golf.

last chance saloon

Today, feeling as though I’m nearly in ‘last resort’ territory I emailed my cousin – a dietitian doing a PHD.  She’ll help me out I thought.  Away went the email and I’m now waiting patiently for a reponse.  I’ve not got one.

I arrived at work, feeling pleased that I’d done my morning run, but not pleased that I’d just waited too long, messing about, to make it to the gym before I came to work.  Although that might just have been a good thing – I’m starving, without doing the gym work.

At work I related to workmates how I emailed off, asking for advcice or a diet to help me get on track.  I’m needing this help, or feeling as though I need help because I feel deflated.  I feel that I’m not really getting anywhere and that it’s all for nothing.  Of course, I know it’s not.  And I know that I am getting results, I’m just getting tired of still being fat.  I know why the diets I write don’t work for me.  I’m not consistent enough.  I follow it like a deamon for a few weeks then boom – I’m over it.  Perhaps more variety is key.

gym rules

I was at the gym this afternoon and greatly unimpressed at the quality of the gym members.  It was full of teenagers.  Ok, so not full of teenagers, but you get the point.  Most of them wandered aimlessly.  The girls doing cardio and the boys, trying to be big strong men in the weights section.  The clientel of the gym I attend isn’t indicative of the sort of gym that I want to attend.  I want to go somewhere where people work hard.  Where people sweat and swear and occasionally bleed – I want to go somewhere where there is passion for what it’s about, for health & fitness, for proper exercise prescription and somewhere that people go to work hard, not to chat on their phones.

One young girl walked past me and looked, judging me from the fact that I am a little overweight and that I wear a mohawk.  She was chatting on her mobile; wandered over to a reclined exercise bike then proceeded to spin her legs, without any urgency on the lowest possible setting.  There was absolutely no intention to work hard.  She wasn’t carrying a towel, or a waterbottle.  She didn’t put the phone down to either set up the machine properly or put in the ‘workout’ that she wanted to do.  Then she proceeded to have a conversation with the girl on the bike next to her; all the while still on the phone.  I could have taken the phone off her and beaten her about the head and face with it.

It wasn’t the fact that she judged me that made me mad.  I don’t care.  She knows nothing about me, she means nothing to me.  She’s just an idiot.  But she was rude and off putting to probably the majority of the members there, and more to the point, taking up a machine doing something virtually worthless.  I just wish that they would get the hell out of the gym unless they’re there to do things properly.

the long and the short

Wow.  What a big couple of weeks.  It must have been about that long since I’ve posted.  I don’t know why, and I don’t really have a reason.  I guess laziness, perhaps tiredness, maybe just not feeling it.  Not feeling like sharing.

Over the last couple of weeks I’ve been up and down a bit.  I think the training has caught up.  I feel tired, constantly tired.  Like my body just needs a rest, like I need some time to unwind.  I always feel as though I could just close my eyes and go to sleep.  I wish that that would make it all go away.  I can feel it more in my demeanour than my muscles.  A frustration settles over everything and I’m less able to deal with shit.  Like if the smallest thing goes wrong, or doesn’t go the way I plan, intend or want it’s all over and I get the shits.  Not that I react, verbally or physically, but in my head it’s like everything’s about to come crashing down.  I take the hump and go quiet, or resentful.  I guess that really reflects exactly how I feel about some stuff where I’m living at the moment.  The patient like mentality is really getting me down.  At times I feel like a maid.

I’m not sure if it’s the isolation that I feel at times.  That I’m feeling a bit at the moment.  At times I long for a NI winter’s day with nothing on – a day when you can sit inside all day and eat, or sit by the fire and chill out with your friends.  I guess that is the isolation that I’m feeling coming out – right there, in that statement.  While I’m in with those I know, I’m not ‘in’, which at times makes me feel out.  I’m not right in the middle of the group, not that I need to be, but I feel at times as though I do not belong.  At times I feel unwelcome, and unwanted.  I guess it’s good that there are some holidays coming up – that I’ve some time to myself.  That’s what I’m looking forward to most about tomorrow night – coming home to an empty house.

I’ve really backed off the training this week – this twice a day thing has really taken it out of me.  So I do plan to do an easier week this week, although tomorrow will be (maybe) a run, then swim, then gym in the evening – I’m just not sure.  It honestly feels as though I need the rest at the moment.  I guess it probably is bordering on burnout – I thoroughly spanked myself over the last few weeks, burning 4500, 5000 and 3800 cal per week for the last 3.  I guess that the way to look at it was that this is my week off – but I fail to do that.

I know that my diet hasn’t been spot on, that I’ve wavered too much.  I do find it difficult being in a household where I don’t have control over what food gets cooked.  The way I’ve dealt with that in the past (the first few weeks that I was into it) was to really ‘concentrate’ during the day in lieu of being more lax at night, although I don’t know what’s happened – I’ve slipped.  I think it’s getting out of the working routine that’s put the breaks on my diet and food consumption.  I’m planning to be spot on with it while I’ve the house to myself – I guess I’ve just got to find a way to implement that to the family situation.  I do find it hard when, when asked what I want for dinner, I give the option of ‘chicken & vegies’ or ’steak & vegies’ and then get told that I’m not very imaginative.  I don’t know why that annoys me so much.  I know that it’s boring; but I also know that it’s good for me.

I’ve also been having doubts about the results that I’m seeing.  I can, or could, see changes in my face – it’s getting leaner, but the rest of my body is taking it’s sweet time in catching up.  I know that this happens to me -  that I lose it from my face, shoulders, legs and arms first.  It’s ALWAYS something that gets me.  And I believe that it’s something that really stops me from achieving my goals.  What if I just held out – if I hold out another 5 weeks, worrying only about the processes, not the results – I wonder how much difference actually would be made.  I’m also trying not to weigh – but I had to the other night for my application form – nothing.  Nil.  Nada.  Zilch.  Zero.  That’s right – flogging my guts out for 3 weeks and there was no actual change in the scale.  Yes, I may have put on muscle, and my muscles may be holding onto water – but I’ve fucking lost nothing.  I can not believe that, and it is so disheartening.  I just don’t know what to do about this.  I know stopping is not the answer; but I’m not overly sure what I’d be saying if I was my client.

Actually, I do know.  Take a body fat test I’d be saying.  I guess I should do that.  One day when I’m home alone.  Will swim tomorrow – if I can find my adidas togs, but I feel as though they’ve gone missing.  In the car maybe.  For now I need to sleep to get this emotional crap out of my system.

subconscious

So now that I’m not far from actually handing in my application a few questions are starting to appear.   It’s stuff that I have considered before, and stuff that I know will come up frequently in my (hopefully) new profession, but I wasn’t sure that it would happen this way.  The questions, or thoughts come mostly when I’m alone, when I’m doing something that only requires a mild focus.  I guess that’s the time when my thoughts will wander.

I don’t thinly that they’re doubts so much as my mind making sure that I’m prepared for this; that I’m sure that it’s what I want.  I guess it’s me making sure I’m ready to deal with the side of things that is not pretty.

How do I feel about carrying a loaded weapon for the rest of my life; or at least the majority of it.  How do I feel about potentially having to shoot someone; and having to live with that.

How do I feel about the possibility of confronting a potentially threatening situation.  Having to deal with violent, irrational and drunk offenders on a regular basis.

How do I feel about having to defend other members of the public from violent or threatening offenders?

It’s all there,those questions are all there.  They’re all things I’ve had to consider.  I’ve considered them willingly.  I guess that it’s a more prominent issue now cause it’s close to becoming a reality.  I think that it’s good that my mind is processing these without me actually thinking about it.  That, to me, means that it’s there; that there are risks involved, and there are going to be some situations that are incredibly difficult.  But the fact that I’m thinking about it means that I know about it and am willing to deal with it.  A little muddled, I know; but it’s all good.

without

So today at the pool was fecking awful.  That’s the only way it can be described.  Did my 1k (in 27:30), 100m with the kick board and then got the hell out of there.  I was just fatigued.  Although I’m not sure it actually was fatigue, or soreness from the weights session that I did – more just that the thrashing about was much harder.  Had a tendonitis click going on in my left shoulder which was while not actually hurting, uncomfortable and distracting.  It was more that I was noticing it there, not that it was sore.  Pain in the arse more than anything.  It wasn’t at all that I was without motivation today – it was a physical thing.  In a way I see this swim session as a good thing.  After the first 200 I seriously would have considered packing up and going home – if it weren’t for determination to do the 1k – at a minimum.  I made sure I was in there for at least 30 minutes.  A bit of a win for me, over the pool, today.  Sometimes it’s just hard.

30:00

340cal,  25%

AHR: 151

MHR: 177

Work was shit!  At some times I really, really, hate my life.  It’s like I’m just showing up and spending time there.  The fucking stock is all over the fucking place.  I had to count the bloody singlets about 15 times today as things weren’t included in the snapshot when they should have been and were when they shouldn’t have been.  I finally said that I wasn’t doing it anymore and headed off to harass customers.  I was helping a guy with shoes at the end of the day – he had a sore ankle for which he wanted plenty of cushioning.  After talking a little bit, it seems that he had Plantar Fasciitis, or so I thought.  He was surprised that I knew what was going on.  I think I also surprised myself.  Surprised at the amount of knowledge that I have, that I can talk to people about and the help that could have come from me sorting out what his issue was.  I also briefly considered whether infact I should go into physiotherapy, and briefly considered looking up to see the requirements for an Ex. Phys. to do Phty at uni.  But then I want to be a cop.  That’s all I want.

After work I realised I’d forgotten the ipod (essential for gym cardio, or any cardio really) so headed home.  Did some stuff on the treadmill to make up for the lack of swimming/gym cardio today.  I did run intervals and was happy with how they went.  I didn’t think that I’d got to the point where they weren’t an absolute bitch to get done – I guess I was wrong.  Although I worked hard, I wasn’t anywhere near maximum, and felt stronger than I have previously.

20 mins run intervals, 3 minutes stretching.
30:30 -  all at 4%

3 mins 10

5 mins 10.5
5 mins 11
5 mins 11.5
2 mins 11

20:00

230 cal, 17%

AHR: 164

MHR: 186

Not 100% accurate as HRM wasn’t working the whole time I don’t think…  It was fucking pissing me off, perhaps escalated by tiredness, but I felt some of the gear rage coming back.  Bastard.  Anyway, it was s pretty good session, even if the HRM fucked up.  I also iced afterwards, which I need to start doing more often (and am going to start doing, nightly).

I’m not nearly as sore as I expected to be from the weights session that I did the other day.  Perhaps the huge walk with golf helped that, perhaps also wearing skins while I was running tonight helped.  I think that that might be a good way to take some of the DOMs away from my future legs sessions – stretching, rest and then some form of activity (preferably walking/golf) later in the day.  Seems to have worked this time round.

More one glove tan tomorrow, along with a bit of training.  Short game work.