I haven’t been wanting to come here and write. I haven’t been wanting to write anywhere. It’s spring, and the sun is shining nearly every day and the sky is blue and the crocus are up and the daffodils are coming and I don’t know what is wrong with me. I’m lethargic and grumpy and full of something that smells suspiciously like despair. It’s completely idiotic, and I know it, but for whatever reason, it keeps overpowering me.
I feel old and slow and uncool and worried and tired and fat and helpless to make others happy.
So. Here’s what I’m going to do about it.
I’m going to stop feeding it by thinking about it.
I’ve joined a step competition at work and I’ll be forcing myself to go out walking every day. And that means tomorrow, even though the competition doesn’t begin until mid-April, because it’s NOT ABOUT THE CONTEST. It’s about ME.
I’m going to stop somewhere, halfway on my walk each day, and fill my lungs with spring air and sing something, even if it means that Martin won’t go with me anymore.
I’m going to stop feeling sorry for myself. I’ve actually been down this same damn road many times in my life and fortunately, I KNOW the cure. I just have to DO IT.
I’m going to write. Whether what I have to say is slow or stupid or tired or uncool. And if writing about things that are bothering me is what it takes to get them out and make it stop, I’ll do that, too.
Because I can’t MAKE anyone else happy. I can only make MYSELF happy and then spread it around.
Brand New Bunches of Belated Birthday Wishes to emmabovary, johann_metzger and carrieb