I need to start writing again. I need the outlet. Running has sucked badly for the past year. I just can’t get the mojo back. I’ve gained 10 lbs, I feel sluggish and gross. Running doesn’t feel good when I do it. I feel slow, out of breath and everything below the waist hurts at some point or another. I am too hard on myself. It’s okay if I walk a minute or two for every 3 minutes of walking, it’s better than nothing, right? Right. I know. Sure.
My brother is going through a health issue. It could be a lot worse than it is and I know that, but I’m still freaked out for him. He needs surgery and a reconstruction and I wish he didn’t have to go through any of it. We went through a tough time last year when my dad moved into the Retirement home and I was in the height of my depression. I couldn’t help my brother the way I was supposed to. He spent weeks packing up my parent’s condo pretty much all by himself while I sat paralyzed with depression and tried to make excuses as to why I couldn’t help. I still carry that guilt. I’ll live with it for the rest of my life. He says he’s gotten over it but I worry he harbors resentment. So now that he is going through his own health issues, I am trying to make up for it. I’ll support his wife through his surgery and recovery. I’m checking in on both of them daily. I guess it’s the least I can do.
Emotionally I’m okay. I’m not depressed anymore. But I’m worried for what the future holds for my brother. I feel overwhelmed with life … again. I know this is what happens with age. I don’t think I like it very much. I just get no relief from it. It’s happening to my family now, to my patients. It’s everywhere.
I know I need to take care of myself first. I need to run. I need to write. I need to be okay.