It’s been nearly a week and I haven’t written. Here’s the thing. I’m in a funk. Which means I don’t write as much. Apparently. So I’m trying something new here. I’m going to write.
The embarrassing thing is I don’t have much to be in a funk about. My mom is visiting so I have plenty of help with the baby. And for around the house type things. And I’m not alone.
But I still feel lonely. I miss Jason. He’s worked 10 days out of the last 14. I know what you’re thinking. Doesn’t everyone work that much? Yes. But he works 12 hour days plus commute. You guys, he wakes up at 2:45 am when he works days and doesn’t get home until 5:00. Then it’s wrestle with the cranky baby for a couple hours. By the time she’s in bed he has checked out. Mentally at first and then physically shortly thereafter. I don’t blame him. He’s exhausted. Did I mention he wakes up at 2:45 am??? But I still feel lonely.
And I feel unmotivated. I’m still running, but only because I have to. Every time I lace up my shoes I feel a little like, “Ugh, this again.”
And I feel irritated. At everyone. About everything.
And I feel bored. Like I’m just sitting around all day staring a baby. Like I wouldn’t know what else to do even if I figured out how to sneak away for more than 20 seconds at a time.
And I feel anxious. Because that’s how I roll! Rolling, spinning, churning, obsessing, whatever a little faster these days… No need to get into the funky particulars of my mess head.
And now I feel guilty for writing such a gloomy, poopy mess of a post. I feel sort of like this post is better suited for the DRAFT folder. But that Publish button keeps staring me down, and I kind of want to hit it just to stick it to that little voice telling me not to.