As I mentioned in my last post, I’ve made a commitment to myself to start living my life. Why I’ve held back (even before the depression), I do not know. But gradually over the past ten weeks, I’ve begun to think bigger about the way I live. The antidepressants surely have helped with that, along with my Ugg-wearing therapist, Annie.
I last saw Annie on Wednesday. Toward the end of the session, after telling me she thinks we can cut back from weekly to every other week, she asked what I’m going to do the next two weeks to live my life. I’ve got plans off in the distance (the Tuscany trip in May) and I’m working on redecorating my home, but Annie meant what am I going to do to live my life today.
The first thing that comes to mind is to watch less tv after work during the week, and write instead. I don’t watch tv a lot, maybe an hour a night to keep me company while I’m having dinner. But why not sit at the dining table and write? Why turn the television on at all? Tv zaps my brain. When the television is on, I’ve checked out. When I was deep in the throes of depression, I’d lie on the sofa and watch hours and hours of television. I didn’t want to do anything else. Except sleep. After hours in front of the television every night, I would prise myself off the sofa, climb the stairs, and get into bed. And I’d stay there. Usually for twelve hours, or so.