I stopped at the park on the way home and walked. Probably not quite a mile, but so much more than I have done recently. And it was good. It felt good. The miracle was was that I was able to do this when what I wanted to do was go home and crawl into bed, I was crashing. And yet I did.
It is tempting to think that this means I can do it tomorrow. I will manage to do something one day, and think I can repeat it another day- only to find that it is a different battle the next day and I give into the depression on that other day. So I never get any consistency. I never get to establish a habit. Things don't get easier.
And I wish that I could say that a walk in the sun fixed my mood- but I am still crashing.
I don't think that raising the cytomel is doing it for me. I wonder about going back on Prozac. It seemed to work well the two times I was on it- and when it stopped working, well, that was before I knew about light boxes and seasonal depression. No antidepressant works for me if I don't do light therapy in the winter. But getting off of Effexor doesn't sound like fun, even with a cross-taper.
I'm actually feeling pretty disillusioned with meds today.