Waging War

I've managed, somehow, to end up back in a state of depression. I can deal with depression. I've dealt with actual, clinical depression before, so this is really not that bad in comparison. What I'm finding hard to deal with is the fact that I'm going through this at all. I'm over a month quit. I've come to terms with losing "a friend" and having to fill my time. I still haven't been able to brave the sinister, growling porch in order to read, but I'm doing fine with everything else. So why is this happening now?

I know a lot of it has to do with what seems to be mild body dysmorphia and depersonalization. I literally feel as if I'm battling with my own body. I've started thinking of it as "other". I'm not entirely sure when this started happening, actually. I just realized a couple of days ago that I constantly talk and write about myself as if I'm two separate things- my mind and my body. I feel like I have no control over my body. I hate it, but not in the way a teenager hates their body- where one is merely uncomfortable in their own skin and wishes they could be different. No. I actually, literally hate my body- I think of it as an entity separate from myself. This entity has betrayed me. It doesn't care what I want or what I think or what is good for me (or it, for that matter.) It seems only to want to piss me off. When I want to exercise, I suddenly have joint pain. When I want to sleep in, I'm wide awake. When I want to wake up early, I sleep past my alarm. When I want to go to bed early, I can't fall to sleep. When I want to stay up late, I fall to sleep on the couch. When I want to curb my appetite and eat only a little, I'm suddenly voracious. When I've given myself the go-ahead to splurge a little, I'm not hungry.

I. Can't. Win.

I feel like I'm in a fierce battle, and I'm starting to feel the effects. What terrifies me, and what I think is causing the depression, is that this is going to break me. I am so scared that I will keep fighting and fighting and fighting and then realize, at some point, that I can't do this. I'm still determined right now, but my resolve is diminishing. I can feel it.

I hope and pray that my body realizes it's being an a**hole soon and begs for my forgiveness. Otherwise, I fear I may be the one on my knees... broken. Ashamed. And no longer a non-smoker.