If I were to write a how-to book on overcoming depression, it would boil down to four simple rules.
1. eat well (eat what you like, when you like, with a focus on nourishing the body)
2. get on a regular sleep schedule (go to bed at a reasonable hour and get up at a reasonable hour--preferably around the same time each morning and evening)
3. exercise (not for vanity's sake, but because the body likes it, craves it, desires to move and dance and jump around--the body wants to be challenged)
4. and finally...always have a good book to read
Tonight, after an absolutely lovely dinner with my oh-so-generous aunt and uncle, at what's quickly becoming one of my favorite Upper West Side haunts, good enough to eat, I found myself with nothing to do.
see I'll surprise you all with a picture every once in a while, when you least expect it
Saturday night in Manhattan, the world was my oyster, anything was possible. Or was it? I've recently come to the realization that all my gal pals are in committed relationships. This means no single strumpets to dance the night away with in search of that oh-so-perfect--he's-the-one male to bring home to mom and dad. What's a girl to do? Hit up the bars by myself? I don't think so. I have pride enough to know when to hide away in my oh-it-needs-to-be-cleaned New York apartment.
I weighed my options. I could...watch this week's Grey's Anatomy a second time, since the show is finally getting good again, and now I get to drool (quite unexpectedly mind you) over Christina's new love interest, Dr. Owen Hunt. Tangent alert: I used to think the most important thing on my love list (you know, the list where you enumerate the qualities of your perfect mate so that the universe can then bring him to you) was that he made me laugh and could laugh at himself. I now think this is a very close second to... manliness--I know, I know, manliness, what is that? I don't know how to describe it, but you know it when you see it, and you most certainly can feel it. I don't have time or patience any more to mess around with boys. Oh gosh, got way off topic there for a second...so I could watch Grey's, or hit up a movie. No, no, neither of those options was quite right. And then it hit me. Yes. I would got to Barnes and Noble and get the first book in the Twilight series. It was my turn to succumb to the teeth of a vampire.
I got there, asked the sales associate where I might find said book and he pointed me towards the teen section--oh wait...no, no, teen section? A mighty blow. I was nothing, if not past the teen years. Right? Okay, so maybe I was just slightly embarrassed because this request in conjunction with the enormous black bow that was now pinning back my bangs knocked me down a few pegs. But a good book is a good book and nothing to be ashamed of. So after a moment of lowering my reddened cheeks, I marched proudly to the teen section and in doing so honored that part of me that will always be the seventeen-year-old who spent her weekends curled up with the best company a girl can hope for (apart from Dr. Hunt)--a good book.
Life in New York can be hard. All the time. Every day. And being twenty-three ain't no slice of pie. In fact, I think it might be harder than those storied teenage years. So a million times a day, I am forced to remind myself that this too shall pass. And a million times a day I am forced to make the active choice to pursue happiness.
This is all to say that, that choice is always easier when you're well rested with something to read and friends to share a lovely and indulgent meal with. Now, if I could only find my way to the gym.