So I fully acknowledge I'm a wimp when it comes to cold. I wasn't as a kid. I loved cold weather. When we moved to Texas, I laughed at people wearing heavy coats when it's 50 F outside. I do still laugh on occasion because I'm less wimpy than some people.
It's 28 out now, which is nothing compared to a lot of other places.
I think when the depression got bad, I lost my ability to tolerate cold. My mood gets terrible. I get tired. I stop wanting to eat or eat compulsively.. one extreme or the other.
Admittedly, I do probably make things worse. When I get depressed, I make poor choices. I pretty traditionally stop taking my meds consistently. I get tired and lazy and run out of some medication. I may refill it at the pharmacy but take a week to pick it up. I did that recently. I went probably a week without my wellbutrin. It was waiting at the pharmacy, but I kept making excuses about getting it. Probably has to do with the drinking becoming my main focus.
On top of that.. I know I hate being cold. Yet, I won't turn my heat on. Or I'll leave the window open and wake up freezing at 2am and close it. Right now the heat is on if the apartment drops below around 60. Not sure how accurate the thermostat is because I can't find the thermometer I used to keep around to check the temperature in the apartment. Generally, I only turn the heat on if my bedroom gets below 60. Yesterday it was around 35 outside and I went out in just a tshirt. I ended up wearing my lab coat just to have something. Now, I'm sitting here wearing jeans, a sweatshirt, and a bathrobe.
I finally put the robe on because the sweatshirt wasn't enough. Now just my hands and feet are cold.
Anyway, I'm whining. I am not in a great mood. I didn't drink last night or tonight. My therapist decided that instead of being happy about that she should tell me how dangerous it is to stop drinking. It is, but so is drinking a bottle of vodka everyday. The reason I'm wearing a sweatshirt (besides the cold) is that I have a couple of nasty bruises on my arms I didn't want my parents to see. I have a few on my arms, a couple on my legs, and a scrape on my knee. All from while I was blacked out. I got a lecture about that and a lecture about needing to eat. It was really frustrating.
Then on top of that, I keep my keys for school (2 for classrooms, 1 for a shared office, and a few from when I was doing research) separate from my car and house keys. I can't find them. They were in my backpack monday. They're not there now. I thought they were in my very messy car, but I haven't found them yet. Oh and my flashdrive is attached to them. It's $7 to replace each key, and I have to report them missing before I can order replacements. The department won't be happy about that. I lost them once before but found them 2 days later.
Hopefully they'll turn up before I have to teach Monday. I have a ton of grading to do. Plus, I'm supposed to email all my students about these stupid presentations they are supposed to do next week. It's like 1-2minutes per person, and I wasn't really able to assign them in class because 1 class was cancelled, 1 was missing 5 people, and 1 found out there was not a quiz and practically ran out before i could say anything. I just don't want to deal with this. And I really want a drink. I would very much like a day to sit at home all day with a bottle of vodka and forget everything.
For me it sounds so sad and lonely, the thought of you sitting there with a bottle of vodka. I wish there was a quick fix, but addiction isn't fixed with a magic wand. My dad basically drank himself to death at the age of 52 and a few years later his brother, my uncle, followed suit. But hell, I know that kicking the habit isn't easy, whether it's vodka, cigarettes or food (binging and restricting, not normal eating).
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