A nebulous nightmare is backfilling my mind with torturous thoughts. I want it to stop, so I remind myself of the good things in my life.
But bullshitting doesn’t work.
How about I own my miserable mood, like Eeyore or Alexander from the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day book?
Whoa. That’s the one thing I hadn’t tried; owning it. And although I won’t say it’s a perfect fix, it did alleviate something.
I wrote in my book today. And for that, I’m glad. And I didn’t drink alcohol with my friend last night, and I felt delighted at my clear-headedness this morning.
Although today was not as home run-filled as the Mariners game, it’s still a day. I’m here, breathing, spending time with friends, and doing the things I love, like writing and hanging out with my family.
I’m listening in on Dave’s conversation in the other room, and he’s explaining to Evelyn that she was once in my stomach. “Where did I come out from?” she asks, so Dave tells her. “Oh.” She says, lowering her voice, but then is off on a different subject relating to the book they’re reading.
I love lying here and listening, but also, I’d like to join them. I think I will.
Happy Sunday to you.