Just Keep Going

So I’m in Germany. Again. This time we’re back in a small city called Würzburg in the south of Germany. We’ve stayed here before- I’ve mentioned how two years ago I had medication problems and had to go home early. This is where we were when that all happened. And I’m really afraid that it’s happening again. The first week was tough, but I was often surprised at how well I was coping with the hectic travel schedule, the airports, the buses, the trains, the rain. Matt’s still been sick this whole time so it was especially hard for him traveling, and I think on some level, I was able to keep it together to spare him the burden of my mood swings.

He started work as soon as we got here and we hit the gym on our second full day- pretty impressive, I think. We did miss out on one weightlifting day with all the travel, but with all the running through airports and lugging suitcases on trains, I’ve managed to let it go. I also let myself off the hook on some of my run/walk days since I was walking at a good clip around the city, finding provisions for our stay. But yesterday I actually put my gym clothes on and ran in the park for 10 minutes and I felt like it made a big difference to get the running in, so I’m going to get back to it. The gym is a 10-minute walk from the apartment, so I figure I’ll walk there, do a 10-minute run on the treadmill, and walk home, and that should cover it for my cardio days. On those days I’ll be able to go in the morning, which is what I’m used to at home. Lifting days have to be in the afternoon, though, because of Matt’s work schedule, so that’s put a little kink in the works.

After our workout today, I thought Matt just wanted to rest, but after a few minutes of not feeling sleepy, he suggested we go to a cafe so I could write. I had a sandwich and started to get dressed before determining that I just wasn’t up to it. For some reason, this resulted in a deluge of tears and questioning of my life choices. Matt, already beyond stressed from work and being sick, came to my aid and tried to reason with me. I felt so ashamed and frustrated at not being able to go out- I’m just so sick of being mentally ill and being so limited in what I’m able to do. I wanted so much more for myself than what I have, and it makes my head explode that all I was able to do today was run to the drugstore and go to the gym. I used to be able to push myself, to power through and work and perform. And now I’m struggling to just get my food on track and my workouts in place.

Matt pointed out that I really did power through our whole travel debacle and days of jet lag and not sleeping through the night. I guess he’s right. But at the same time that I’m sobbing and he’s consoling me, I feel horribly guilty that he’s having to do this when he has a rehearsal in less than an hour. And that guilt just makes me want to disappear- to erase myself from the equation and not be one more problem for him. I eventually took some Klonopin and mellowed out a bit, but I knew I’d kept him home longer than he wanted and I feel horrible for that. Now the last couple days weren’t like this. I actually managed to get to the cafe twice in the past 2 days and do some writing. I even had a brief social interaction with Matt’s good friend and colleague who I know from years ago.

I don’t know, maybe I overdid it. Maybe I’m taking on too much too quickly, but I really like it here and I really want to enjoy this time away from our suburban life in Rhode Island. It’s so nice when Matt gets to do his actual job, the thing he’s really good at, and I want to support him as best I can. But crying and ranting about how my life is over and nothing I do matters and how I fucked everything up and there’s no getting it back- that’s not exactly helping him. So I’ve just got to get back to my schedule: exercise, shower, breakfast, get dressed, go to a cafe, and write something- anything. I have so much to say about this trip so far, so much I’m dying to write about. But I guess I’m still finding my feet- it’s only been 8 days after all- and there’s nothing to do but keep going. That’s how I got through all the travel and getting situated- just keep moving. It’s stopping to think that keeps tripping me up. Dwelling on the past, comparing myself to others, thinking of what could have been, if only…. That stuff might kill me. I just need to keep going.