Hello readers!
I’m pretty new to this, but I think introductions are awkward, so I’m just going to cut to the chase. 😉
My full name is Abby Morgan Christensen, and I was born and raised in a little town called Delta Utah. I grew up without a Walmart, instead we would either travel an hour and 45 minutes to the nearest Costsco, or we would shop at my small town’s grocer “Quality Market.”
Delta was a town that you could do anything, and I mean ANYTHING you wanted. From driving to school on a tractor to having tea parties in the middle of main street, it was free. The only catch is that everyone knew you, and if you by some chance get pulled over in a bunny suite while driving your moms van which was chalk full of freshmen girls at 2 A.M, there is no way you’re mom isn’t going to find out about it. (Soccer team of 2015, you know who you are).
Delta was great and all, but ever since I can remember, I had developed depression. That’s right. And I could be all awkward and secretive about it, but to me it isn’t private. To me it’s nothing to be ashamed of. It has made me who I am.
While I was young when I had first developed it, and I wasn’t really FULLY aware of why I was feeling the way I was at that time, I had started to figure out ways to cope. The only thing I knew is that I was sad, and I no longer wanted to be sad.
One of the main causes of depression, and I’m sure you all may know because the media says it all now a days, is self image issues. I wasn’t happy with who I was, and I hated what I looked like. Every night as I brushed my teeth with my princess jammies covering my adolescent belly, I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, and would start sobbing.
You know how you feel when some one cuts you off on the free way, or you see another girl talking to your crush and you just get super angry with them? That’s how I constantly felt with myself.
I lived like this for years and years, no one suspected a thing. I was always so happy and I was never not doing things to make other people laugh. This was because I was so insecure, I though making them laugh would make them like me. Also, making people smile made me feel happy.
It wasn’t until my oldest sister, Emily went out for a run. I looked up to Emily a lot. She was always so genuine and real with herself. Everything she did was for HER and no one else. I admired that. I saw how her moods transitioned from before she went on a run, to after she got home from one. She always seemed happier.
I decided to give it a shot. I threw on some pajama pants and one of my dad’s t shirts, grabbed my old torn up VANS, and hopped out side motivated to embark on this new journey of mine.
I made it to the end of the drive way.
I kid you not, the end of the drive way. I was so humiliated, I ran in and cried. I beat myself up, I told myself I didn’t deserve to feel the happiness that Emily did.
But then it hit me. Why was I always so set on feeling sad? Anyone with depression knows that the worst words to hear is “you can choose to be happy.”
Guys. The ONLY reason we hate hearing that is because we instinctively push away happiness. Not because we want to, we just feel like we don’t deserve it.
Suddenly, I hopped up from my bedroom floor, and I went to my treadmill downstairs, pumped up some Hannah Montana, and I walked 2 miles.
For me, walking 2 miles was a HUGE deal. I ran up stairs whipping sweat from my forehead and bragged all about those two miles that I NAILED to my mom and dad. I felt like I had accomplished the most difficult task. I felt happy.
Eventually, those two miles turned into three, then I jogged some, then I ran some, then I jogged all of it. Everything began to progress.
I was finally ready to take my running outside.
I used cars as my motivation. Every time I saw that one was about to pass me, I would sprint so I could make myself look cool and in shape. Once the car was out of sight, I began to cough and wheeze.
I was out there every day. After about a month of this cycle, I ran 3 miles without stopping.
I had never felt more proud of myself. Finally, after years of self remorse and sitting on my pity potty, I was able to find something that made me feel worth something.
I soon tried different workouts. I even joined my High School soccer team (but that’s a completely different story that we won’t get into).
The weight was dropping, but that didn’t matter. I was more confident because of the things I felt myself accomplishing, not the weight I was losing. People would walk up to me while I was working in the grocery store and say “Hey! I see you out running a lot!” I was one of the town’s runners!
GAH, that made me so proud.
Soon, one of my beloved coworkers and best friends invited me to join her in the high school gym every morning. 5 A.M?! PSHT. Yeah right.
But I couldn’t say no to those puppy dog eyes, so I agreed.
The first week was difficult. I couldn’t lift SQUAT, and I couldn’t squat either, for that matter 😉 but soon, I figured out the equipment, and believe it or not, lifting at the gym made me even more happier than running.
We went to the gym religiously. This was a part of my lifestyle now. This was who I was.
Eating healthy and working out may seem like a task, because it is hard. Believe me, I know. It’s hard to do what you don’t have to. I’m not required to go to the gym at 5 in the morning, I’m not required to pass up the pizza and eat salmon instead, I’m not required to drink loads of water, but I do it, because it makes me stronger. To me, it’s a lot easier than sitting in my room wondering if I’m accomplishing anything.
I promise. It is hard, and I’m not going to sugar coat it, but you always ALWAYS
YOU ALWAYS progress.
xoxo
abby
brokehealthnut 