Back in the Groove

Hello loveys, I'm back. I'm sure you've wondered what the heck was up with me. Damn, I was wondering that myself. I fielded a few concerned calls, "What's up with the blog? You okay?" The answer to that is, yes and no.

You ever just kind of fall into a weird funk where every day feels the same, nothing interesting or fun seems to happen, you can't even seem to work up any interest for things you used to enjoy? Life had just fallen into a rut of sorts. Not that that's bad, heck I'm sure many people only wish to have a safe, routine rut instead of worry, uncertainty, and upheaval. So in a way I'm thankful to have that rut, I do appreciate what I've been given in this life. But sometimes... I just have these little funks that I fall into. I would tell myself, I should work on the blog, but what was there to write about? The kids were all okay, hockey had ended (I did briefly consider doing a post on that but what was there to say besides, "Yay"), Ty was working at home and away. I was just in sort of this mental freeze. No motivation to eat healthy or work out or stop smoking, even though I'd done that post on resolutions. (I HAVE been an excellent wife though, I must admit, haha).

I remember at our Christmas get-together with the Kasha side, wearing a new shirt I'd bought and my jeans were loose, I felt great and healthy and proud. I did the resolution post and was hopeful for the new year, new beginnings. And then... I don't know. I just sort of lost that. The battery on my scale died and it was almost a relief, no weighing myself every morning and obsessing over every pound lost or gained. If I wanted to eat a few cookies at midnight, who cared. Working out became something that I'd do "tomorrow". And we all know how that always turns out. I put on that Christmas outfit a while back and the jeans were tight and the shirt felt uncomfortable and I was disgusted with myself but even that wasn't enough to break out of the rut.

Is that what you'd call a bout of depression? I know it runs in the family, I'm certain there are shades of it in there somewhere. Yet I don't feel like that term applies to me, at least not in the broader sense of my daily life. Sure some things bring me down, usually something that would be considered shallow, such as a skin breakout or the whole weight issue. Which is so ridiculous, really. Why should I deserve to feel depressed about something so stupid when there are people out there with legitimate reasons for feeling depressed, loss and pain and confusion of a deep level. Then again, my emotions and feelings are real to ME, therefore no less justified. Do you ever feel that you should have no right to feel a certain way? There's that 'forward this on' email that goes around from time to time about counting your blessings, "The next time you're angry at your boss, remember the person who's been unemployed and is desperate for work", etc. The same line of thinking as never having a fight with your spouse in case that's the last time you see them. But... then you're leading a half life, not allowing yourself to have those normal feelings of anger, frustration, grief, what have you, almost like by denying them you're being a better person. Maybe that's true to a degree. But a person should never deny themselves those moods or emotions because then you're not living in the moment. In denying yourself that full spectrum of emotion and feeling, its like you're putting a judgement on yourself. 'A good person wouldn't think this way', well dammit, who can be a 'good' person 100% of the time. And who would want to? We're not meant to be Pollyannas.

And so I had my big long funk, wallowing in that rut, and just let myself feel it and process those emotions. And then  a couple days ago, Wednesday actually, I woke up and it just felt different. The quality of light in my bedroom seemed different, brighter somehow. I could see dust motes floating in a ray of sunlight through the blinds and instead of thinking 'I need to clean my room, I'm a horrid housekeeper' and starting that whole circular depressive line of thinking, I just saw the simple beauty of it. Tiny specks floating in air, uncaring of where they landed, something sprung from ugliness (dust-mite poop, for gods sake), and yet it is what it is. There's a kind of simplistic lesson in there, I think. We are who we are, no more no less. Not to say we can't change and grow and become different, and there's nothing wrong with that. Change is great. Essential, really. But those moments of going-with-the-flow, allowing ourselves to live in the moment and really claim and embrace where we are right now, no guilt, no feelings of inadequacy or hopelessness, just living it... That is a true life-lesson as well.

So I sprung out of bed, went through the same morning routine, making lunches and breakfast and laundry. But I could feel a lightness in my step, a feeling of wanting to move forward, shake myself up a bit. And when Ryder went for his nap that day, I popped in my Turbo Jam, and I was ready for that workout, man. I gave it 110% and though I was red and sweaty and huffing, I felt great and energized. And surprisingly, thanks to that amazing thing called muscle memory, it wasn't the ordeal I'd been dreading and expecting. I made it through the entire 45 minutes without having to stop (though that 2-minute Turbo was a killer). And I was friggin' proud of myself. Felt great. So while there may be more moments of funk in my future, just knowing that I can move forward and I have, gives me motivation.

So here I am. Back in the land of the living. I've missed you guys and I'll be seeing you again soon.

(PS. I will admit that Thursday I was a stiff, sore mess of knotted back muscles and strained triceps, but even that pain was a badge of honor I suffered through happily. Well, maybe not happily, I had to take a muscle-relaxant that night, but you know what I mean, lol.)