Olivia and I had a discussion recently about which was the hardest exercise. I was going with running or really any number of torturous cardiovascular activities, but she argued that swimming was definitely the hardest. Because she makes swimming look easy I started to debate, but she ended with, “because in any other sport if you stop you just stop, but in swimming if you stop you drown.” Checkmate.
I know a thing or two about staying afloat. I work extra hard during fall and winter to not fall into the Seasonal Affective Disorder well that will gladly swallow me up if I allow it any foothold. I love when an acronym matches the disorder! SAD! I remember when a very talented therapist after college introduced me to it and suggested I try medication. Now at the time taking medication for mild to moderate depression was like joining a club and I liked the idea of belonging so you can bet I jumped in with both feet.
And really, medication worked. Until it didn’t. Over the next decade or so I tried living normally with it and without it, but mostly with it. I was terrified of trying the fall and winter months without it and thought it was a worthy investment if it meant you wouldn’t have to peel me up off the cold, cold pavement in January. Here’s a typical annual refill conversation I had with my doctor:
Dr: So are you exercising?
Me: Oh yes, 3 to 4 times a week (because that’s how often I wore sweatpants).
Dr: And you’re eating lots of fruit and vegetables?
Me: Sure am, Doc. Broccoli even (no mention of my bff Little Debbie).
Dr: How much alcohol do you drink?
Me: Not much (I stop after I fall asleep, usually).
Me: I just don’t understand why I can’t get on top of feeling so blue.
Dr: (reaching for prescription pad) Hmmm…
Now you and I both know that I was living off of my doctor’s good graces. There’s no way he could follow me around and jump out from behind a grocery aisle with an “Aha!” after discovering the Oreos and Doritos in my cart so the simplest thing to do was to write the damn prescription.
Finally, it occurred to me that if I actually tried eating well, sleeping well, abstaining from too much alcohol, and exercising in the sunshine I might be able to be free of the nasty side effects of medication. Armed with information from the book The Overmedication of America and a strong dislike of pharmaceutical companies I decided to give a long withdrawal process the old college try.
So 4 years later I can tell you that by mid-September I have to assess and recommit every year to doing the simple things to take care of myself. And I can also tell you that I feel better OFF medication when I take care of myself than I ever did ON medication. Not that I’m suggesting anyone else try it, of course. Certainly, if you are suffering, you need to DO WHATEVER WORKS.
Last week my workout partner Candy (who’s also an extremely lovely and talented Hairapist) heard me complain about being weary. She, in her Dory voice, told me to “Just keep swimming.” That reminded me that really that’s all there is to it. Just keep going. Continuing to put one foot (or fin) in front of the other works for me. So here's to Olivia, in all her wisdom, for reminding me that swimming is a most rewarding exercise.
I love this!
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