... And here I am beached in Catoosa ...
Few people do sullen and angry-looking as well -- or, more to the point, as poorly -- as I do.
It's one of the Top 10 things I hate most about myself -- my unfailing ability to look at the world through maudlin glasses when depression starts seeping back into my life. Any minor, non-newsworthy drama becomes an unmade queen-sized bed in which I wallow.
Thankfully, there are those bright-shining, clarifyingly happy moments that slap the silly out of me. Like when a friend told me this morning that she was pregnant -- instant mood-lifter! It was today's much, much needed kick in the pants that made me realize, "Hmm, the world doesn't revolve around me." Sadly, that's a direct quote.
So instead of beaching myself like a grumpy Fail Whale on Self-Pity Shoals, I'm looking forward, instead, to an array of positive things on the horizon. One of 'em is a visit next week to -- and pardon the TMI, because I know one or two of you has said that I share too much, but whatev -- an honest-to-Scotch therapist. I have LOTS to purge, so maybe that'll help pull me out of this worthless, unproductive funk. Pharmaceuticals are nice, too.
OK, as I'm rather stupid when it comes to food consumption when my chemicals are all imbalanced, eating either way too little or WAAAAY too much bad stuff, I'm not going to divulge all my vittle-related sins. Let's just say I did fairly well this weekend, and I suh-UCKED Monday through the lunch I just inhaled 10 minutes ago. Seriously, Cheez-Its for breakfast? I'm going to go home and flagellate myself with my lion's head belt buckle for that. I might wear a coat, though.
Anyway, on the morrow, I RUN FOUR OR FIVE MILES!!! Might even do some yoga before that. I'm tellin' ya, if it takes a half bottle of Nyquil, I'm going to snooze more than a paltry four hours this evening. Staying up late pondering stuff I have no control over is NOT conducive to rise-and-shining at 6 a.m. for Gymboree.
Peace, love and Fail Whale-friendly beaches ... XOXO
