To bathe or to blog

Around 10 I made myself a decision. A little decision, but one nonetheless: should I write a message now, or shower? Late at night, my folks don't like me splashing water around. On the other hand, of course, midnight is my deadline for my two messages each day. I chose the shower.

Why do I feel the need to tell you that? Well, I'm just spouting everything I can find any meaning in. Allow me to explain that meaning. Tell Her Before I Die has helped me to pull out of the darker depths of depression, so I keep writing for it a priority obligation. But I realize that this is less about defeating depression and more about living my normal life. The bad feelings will probably not go away without you. I've been working toward not letting those feelings impede my life. To do that without lying to myself too much, yes, those negative feelings have had to diminish. In the big picture, that's a stepping stone. It gives me a foothold toward normal living. And, of course, normal living is a stone toward spending time with you again. You see how that all goes.

I think that in that decision I prioritized living normally over living with depression. I'm here banging out this message last-minute, but I may not have ended up able to do this. I'm clean and taking care of my body, and that's important. I realize that my head still needs work, so I'm not going to stop writing, but I think it's safe for me to put it on the backburner sometimes.

Better yet, I should learn how to manage my time better. Also how to take shorter showers.

I keep forgetting the spice

I keep forgetting to spread a good helping of cayenne powder on my food lately. On everything where cinnamon is appropriate, I certainly don't forget the cinnamon, but the poor cayenne has been neglected or at least nearly omitted. Piece by piece, I place the nourishment on my tongue, chew and swallow. The whole time, to the end, I feel like it's lacking. Only at the end do I realize what was missing, and I get a little frustrated. The person I'm returning to being didn't bother spicing his food. So as I get closer to normality, I suppose that I forget the extra steps I've been trying to take.

Similarly, it's become more difficult to replace an extra meal with a glass of water. It's more tempting to pick up a sweet instead of preparing a healthy meal. I can't say that my family's habits help; they're always getting temptations both casually and as gifts. This really frustrates me. You understand what it's like to not have what you need to be healthy.

I have a choice though. I do have the freedom and finance to just go and buy what I need. Near the end of our relationship, I took you grocery shopping, and you made good food choices for yourself. Leeching off my mother's money, I could drive to any market in town to buy the food that I'd prefer. There's a few excuses that discourage me from doing this, though. First, I don't keep that good of a catalogue of the food we have. I don't want to waste money on what we already have, especially if it's perishable or best when fresh. But my grandmother could help me take inventory before I decide to go. Second, going grocery shopping has always been the responsibility of my mother and stepfather. I don't want to infringe on their responsibilities. However my stepfather often uses the argument that, if I'm not happy with the way someone else does something, then I should do it myself. Maybe that's why I'm the one who makes noodles around here now. Third, I don't want to be any more of a financial burden than I already am. Then again, my household pays for my food anyway.

And since simply saying that I don't want to be fattened up hasn't been clear enough, I should let economics take its course. I should let the unhealthy food ruin, because it isn't a waste to have not eaten it but a waste to have bought it in the first place. The fact that it's there doesn't mean I need to eat it. That's a dieting truth that I came to myself, not learned through reading and certainly not learned by my family's habits.

That reminds me, I never ate that greek yogurt they wanted me to eat. It's too sour for my tastes. I'm sure she loves greek yogurt, by the way, given what we know about how poorly she perceives sourness. Guess she and I both have pretty wacky taste buds. Yeah, I don't know how to bring this post back to the point from here. I guess it's not so bad to end on a completely different note, is it?