The photo above is my evidence of body pump at home. I went to class today, I dropped my cardi where I was going to be, and went to get a box, and on turning round saw someone had completely disregarded where I had put my stuff. I decided I couldn’t face it. Close to tears, and not wanting to create a scene in public I handed my equipment to someone else. It was a busy class, space was limited, and I accepted I wasn’t the regular, and had probably taken a regular’s spot. But you know, decent manners cost nothing, surely? “Do you mind if I move your stuff over a bit?” or “Do you think we can both fit here?” would have been fine. It was disregarding me completely. Kind of a last straw on a tough day. Even on my worst days I will try to keep my manners, make apologies when I need to, ask for a bit of understanding in these times, so I guess when things are really bad for me, those standards I have are magnified and I hurt easily when I don’t get the same respect back. Yes, it’s not logical. It’s depression. Depression isn’t logical.
So I came home after a little cry in the van, and an out of the blue text from one of my oldest friends, and another text from the rock that is my husband who sensibly tells me to forget about things and situations and people (of course I can’t always, but his sense is comforting and secure and home), and I decided to look up some body pump videos on youtube. My son asked for barbels and dumbbells at Christmas, and so it was doable at home. Fortunately I found Body Pump 91 which I love the soundtrack to, and can remember a lot of the moves, so it was fairly easy to follow. I made it to 36 minutes and decided I had had enough. Screw it, it’s more than I would have done if I had allowed myself to wallow 100% in my feelings today. I’m still wallowing, but at least I have done some exercise. I’m meeting my running buddy later for an hour run, and I look forward to that. Good company, someone else who advises things that help when I’m at my worse. Though suggesting i don’t drink wine when feeling depressed was maybe a step too bizarre! (I know it’s bad when I’m depressed, but then so is sobriety 😉 . But she is a friend I accept these things from, she cares, along with the friend that keeps laughing at my bambi legs, and who enquired as to whether my depression might be a little more bi polar like. People who love me through it, who have no agenda, and no personal gain.
So I’m counting all the wee blessings today, because there are many through this horrid cloud of smog. Like having a barbel and weights at home, like having friends who text out of the blue, like friends who want to go running with you even though you are slow and loud.