Depression And Rodeos

Let me tell you a story, and TBH, this story is more of a rant for me to write though my thoughts. So if you want to keep reading, don't say I didn't warn you.



Once upon a time I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety, the WORST possible combination in my mind. Then come to find out the "addiction" I joked about to food, was legit an addiction. In the last 3 weeks I've gained 14 lbs and man does it suck.

I know people try to help by saying, "But what have you eaten?" and "Just eat less..." but that's hard for me. It's hard because when depression comes or anxiety kicks in, I need something stable, something that can make me happy. And unfortunately, my brain has been trained  and conditioned to turn to food during hard times.

Take tonight for instance. I was feeling terrible about myself, my body, my weight, me in general. Depression wears you out and makes you very anti-social. I used to think it was because I was lazy. Nope, just depression.

Yay.

Anyway, one of my younger sisters was riding in a rodeo in Hyrum so I decided to go but halfway there I felt sick. I wasn't comfortable in my jeans (done up with a hair tie) nor did I feel like I had  the mental energy to be around people.

But I went anyway.

While there I was tempted to buy nachos, eat the snacks my parents had, and get a Diet Coke. I caved a few times, and instantly wanted to throw up because of the guilt I felt. My parents made some comments, and I took them hard. Harder than I should have..I know.

I hated being around people. Hated how I felt, how I looked. I wanted to leave and come home. But I stuck it out and learned a valuable lesson.

Those cowboys and cowgirls got bucked off, stepped on, miss the calf, break the barrier, and in an instant, their hopes of winning are dashed. But do they hang up their hats and sell their horses because of set backs? You bet they don't. They go home and train.

Train their horse. Train themselves. Practice. And when another rodeo comes and they lose again, they get right back in the saddle.

I don't know which great cowboy said, "It doesn't matter how many times you fall off, what counts is how many times you get back on." But it inspired me.

Gaining weight sucks. Depression sucks. Mental illness sucks.

I won't sugar coat it.

But I'm not letting this fall into the dusty arena of life get the better of me. I might take a few days to dust off and get my hat back on, but I will, figuratively, ride again.