Scar Tissue

The First Step

You have choices, and they can be good or bad.  Usually it's easy to tell which one it will be beforehand, unless you make it a habit of lying to yourself.  I know I am already a creature of habits, so the best idea for me to make important life changes is to take away my ability to make those choices.  And that is why, for the first time since I was eighteen years old, I have purchased shoes that are not Chuck Taylors (above).

Two prospective jobs would lead me to cities where owning a car would either be a luxury or a hindrance, and would also facilitate my bad life choices, like drinking.  So for the first time in twenty-five years (ouch) I have purchased shoes specifically for walking, not style.

Not that I was a fashion bug before, but I did enjoy when I was regularly asked about my custom or limited edition Chuck's.  It was really a kick to get the compliments.  That's about all that was fashionable about me, however.  Being morbidly obese didn't help matters when selecting wardrobe.  (Something other fatties can confirm, if you're fat, hope that you're an autumn, because clothes designers don't make large-sized pastels.)

So, given that there was a 66% chance of landing in a city that I'd sell my car before moving to, I considered what things I thought would be disadvantages might also instead be good.  Well, if I walked everywhere, I'd lose weight again... I haven't gained it all back, but I'm not the svelte 305 that I bottomed out at last year.  Going off my depression meds caused part of that, moving home caused the rest (damn Mom's cooking).  

Moving to one of these places, I'd get on my meds again.  Easy weight loss.  Selling my car would be my best option, and I'd have no choice but to take public transport and walk everywhere.  And when I did need a car?  Uber or Zipcars are available at both places.  

Walking everywhere would also curb drinking.  I definitely wouldn't need it to help get to sleep, partly because I'd be worn out at night, but also, for some reason, since moving back home, I've discovered that I can get to sleep without it.  Maybe not the best or most consistent sleep, but a hell of a lot better than I'd been getting.  Although the apnea's still there, and I have fucked up dreams on a regular basis now.

Walking would also help combat depression, releasing endorphins on a regular basis.  I'm pretty sure I'll still need some kind of medical aid with it, but that's a given, when you think of my family history.

I've been off my Zoloft for over a year now and can feel the difference profoundly.  Even just looking at this blog, I see Crazyjournal creeping back into my life.  That post that preceded this one?  I just re-read it and feel like a nutcase for writing it.  I mean, yeah, it's all really my feelings... still smarting from being hurt by somebody I cared about and loved for so long, and coming to terms that, despite what was said between us, it might not really have been mutual... but when I was on Zoloft it was easy to dismiss those thoughts.  I want to be like that again.  I do not want to obsess over the past.  So that's one of the first items of business when I get on my feet, which shouldn't be too long.

Speaking of getting to sleep, I'm feeling it right now, so I better go read a few chapters of my book in the recliner and then head to bed, before I go off on a tangent and write something certifiably loony.  

Loonier, I guess I should say.