I’m not believing this. I am just so B L A H. I feel ((((fat)))), sluggish, uninspired, aggitated and achy. Not to mention tired. Gosh, I’m wondering where the old Emily went-I miss her.
I spent last week grieving over the death of my dalmatian, feeling very melancholy while watching old family videos of my kids when they were little (that was almost crazy sad) to spending the night at a friend’s house on Friday after our bunko group only to be humiliated over my snoring. Then I wake up Saturday with the hope I’ll have an art day with my friend and that fun day never happened. In fact, we were so far removed from an art day, it almost made me cry. I planned that day for a month and it never came to be. Life is full of disappointments. And full of disappointing people-I’m learning that in my old age. In additon, there were a few other unmetionables sandwiched in between the previous lovelies that added to my edgy-ness.
Maybe it’s perimenopause creeping up on me, maybe it’s my absolute lack of ability to shed pounds that’s getting me down. I don’t know. What ever it is, I can assure you I hate feeling this way. It’s difficult to be a joy rebel when you feel more like crawling under a rock.
I need to go try to make an attempt at re-adjusting my attitude. Since I’m the only one who can, I’m going to give it my best shot. I understand this crap that I’m dealing with is small potatos in the scheme of things and the real problems life shells out. This is really nothing. But, for now it’s something to me and I have to shake it off first in order to dig out my old self just so I can feel better.