I haven't tracked in at least a month. It was one more chore, and I couldn't make myself do it when the wheels came off. In fact, I couldn't make myself do much of anything.
I have worked out twice since Saturday. That's a win. I understand that regular exercise is comparable to or better than meds for overcoming depression. The standards for "improvement," however, are pretty low. You can be improved and still miserable.
I've been reading Undoing Depression by Richard O'Connor. He's a therapist who is also a depressive (his word). His theory is that depression can become a habit, and the best way to overcome it is therapy and a change in that downward spiral of thinking that is symptomatic of the disease. (He calls it a disease, and I'm ok with that. Hell, I embrace it.) Meditation is likely to help. He also encourages (repeatedly) regular exercise. Who am I to argue? So now that I am functioning and sleeping (more or less), I'm back on the wagon.
I have not gained any weight. I haven't lost, but if anything, I'm a little smaller. I have been eating for hunger only (well mostly only), and I've been lucky. I assume this means that nearly a year of not eating my feelings has become a habit. This I like.
I'm traveling for work right now, and last night I was able to forego the fries. This morning at the hotel, I had cereal and fruit instead of the waffle. Tonight for dinner I avoided the chips and guacamole I like so much. I guess my point is that I'm taking care of myself in ways that do not include eating for comfort. This is a huge change in my life. In fact, I wonder a bit if not eating for comfort helped spur my bad period a month ago. Emotion has to go somewhere. Happily, it's not on my ass. Unhappily, I have to learn to deal with it in other ways. I guess I'm growing up. Ha.