I’ve come home and written original stuff every night this week. I’m reading books again. I started re-hashing my comic book ideas. My insatiable, nauseating appetite has subsided, as has my compulsion to go to bed before 9pm. I found myself dancing around my apartment tonight for no reason.

The turning point was last week, when I became nauseous every time I got out of bed. It was bad enough that I called in sick to work and literally stayed in bed all day. I didn’t do anything. I slept and slept. I got up at 3pm and found that the nauseousness has subsided, ate some whole food, read for an hour, and went back to bed until 5:30 am the next morning.

It occurred to me at some point during that day that this sounded a lot like depression.

I was battling a vicious appetite every night, having trouble concentrating on anything long enough to get any serious writing done, and was content to let a lot of little chores around the house slide.

Why do I let myself avoid the gym like that? Moving really screwed up my routine. I knew it was going to be a problem, but I was enjoying the novelty so much that I just let it slide. That lasted for quite a while. Steph and the Old Man had an elliptical machine at the house, so the nights I didn’t work out at work or at the gym, I generally found time on the elliptical. Moving just completely screwed my entire living routine.

Ever since I moved, I’ve been happy and all, and settling in, but not exactly… efficient. Or productive. And the writing just wouldn’t come. Line edits have been torture. What I’m writing now isn’t brilliant, but it’s new material, it’s progress toward my next book delivery, and it’s getting things going again. Man, it’s been an unproductive three months. I was starting to worry over how long this bizarre neutral state was going to last.

I realized tonight that that 30th birthday Peru trip is only a year and a half off, too. Having a world jaunt to look forward to while working toward financial freedom in Dayton is also a pretty big motivator.

But mostly, it’s the gym.

I’ve had to manipulate it so that my sugar’s at at least 250 before I start working out. Just 40 minutes of cardio takes me down to 90. It’s wicked. I don’t remember the change being that extreme, but then, I used to do some weight training afterward, which usually make it go up again.

Still, a 160 point drop in an hour? That’s just wicked. I think I’ll be reducing my Lantus in the morning. 40 minutes flies by pretty quickly, and I’d like to bottom out my cardio at about 45-50. Do that four days a week, dance around my apartment and write like a crazy person all week.

It’s like I’ve been asleep. Which I enjoyed quite a bit, mind you. It’s just that I knew I was going to have to wake up sometime.

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