What Am I Doing?

Life's been pretty busy between building my new jewelry business, working part time at the bookstore, watching my grandsons one day a week, and keeping the home fires burning. Not to mention, the writing group I co-facilitate and the book project we are working on there. Then my former self-employed hubby has picked up a side job as project manager for a new restaurant set to open sometime this summer and that has me running errands again. Yes, life is a little busy. I don't have time for depression or anxiety or fibromyalgia to interfere with things. But it does. 

With my husband leaving the house an hour earlier most mornings, I find myself stumbling around, coffee cup in hand, feeling sleep deprived and out of sorts. When I give in to the lure of the still warm rumpled blankets on the bed and crawl under them I find the delicious cocoon my mind and body craves. I doze and awaken to sunshine sneaking through the cracks of the curtain, or the sounds of raindrops splattering against the windows. Sleep cycle disrupted again I struggle the rest of the day to find my rhythm. It's frustrating. Walking daily seems like a distant memory, something someone did a long time ago but I can't remember who or why. I force myself to push past fibro-pain, cloudy thinking and loss of passion for most things. People annoy me and the thought of engaging in conversation is so overwhelming I can't even ....

I lay on my bed a lot and flick aimlessly through apps on my phone.I ask myself if I need to talk to the doctor about changing my anti-depressant or do something different.  It's worrisome. 

But on the mornings when things seem to fall into place and I do find my rhythm it's glorious! I stay awake, I throw a load of laundry in the wash and scrub down the counters and swoosh a mop across the floors. I go for a walk and I snap pictures left and right of everything I see. I breathe deep and I listen for cues that nudge me here or there. I work my business and study to make it better. I go to work with a smile and energy. I have my list of things to do and I knock it out of the park. I think "life is amazing and so am I". And at the end of the day I wonder what made it different from the day before? 

Depression is a thief. It steals my joy, my energy, my creativity. Anxiety is a rope that ties me to a chair and holds me prisoner in my room. Physical pain is crippling and only feeds my depression more. In those darkest moments I seek out the Psalms and feel David's anguish as he pours out his soul. 

These things I remember as I pour out my soul... Hope in God, for I shall again praise Him, my salvation and my God. 

this thing called monday

i love mondays.
said no one ever.
except for me.
because i'm a little funny that way.
i don't work outside of the home.
I am an 'old fashioned' wife;
i get up each morning and
make his breakfast, pack his lunch
and send him on his way to work
with a kiss and a smile.
and i love that.
i love that "this" is my job.

i love the weekends.
said everybody.
including me.
because it means time with hubby
and chores and church
and couple stuff.
projects to work on, maybe some playtime.
weekend get aways
even if they happen in the backyard.
gathering with friends, social time.
but...draining my battery,
even as i laugh and love and live.

but come monday
i am happy to have my house back
under my domain.
my time to recharge from the weekend
happens on mondays.
bye-bye honey,
come to me you big beautiful cup of coffee.
let's sit here awhile
there is plenty of time
to start the laundry and
wash the dishes.
i love this solo time.

come monday.