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mental healthWow, doesn’t life just suck some turds sometimes? Honestly, things were going great in my little world and then BAM! All of a sudden I’ve quit smoking, the diet is really changing, and the old man may or may not have a serious heart condition. I feel little like I’ve been handled in a way which is sexually inappropriate and A) not offered adequate lubrication, and B) not been kissed afterwards.

This SUCKS.

And because my stress levels have rocketed through the ever-loving roof, my skin condition is flaring up. And my neck/shoulder muscles are tight again. And this afternoon my irritable bowels decided to be irritable.

Come on man, now this shit REALLY SUCKS.

But it’s like that for those of us living with a mental health condition. What effects our physical health will end up effecting our mental health, and the other way ’round. It’s like a two-fer that NO ONE WANTS. Or a buy one, get one sale on second-hand toothbrushes. Or… (insert your own icky metaphor here, and share in the comments please)

For me it’s all too easy to let the cycle get entirely out of control. Take for example this fine shitstain of a week. I haven’t walked yet at all. Not once. And the less I walk the harder it is to sleep. The harder it is to sleep, the harder it is to get up early enough to walk. You feel me, right? Dig it.

So the cycle has to stop, and I have to be the one to do it. Tomorrow morning, no matter how much I don’t want to or I hurt or I’m tired, I will be getting my fat little ass on that treadmill. (after I weigh myself) If I don’t, then the skin condition bullshit and the stress and the mental stuff, it all wins. And I am not spending my time on this little blue ball letting something other than me determine what wins.

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