It's a down-tempo Sunday for us. Brad and I are both kind of achy and fighting colds; we're run down following a climbing event in Indian Creek (I've been away for nearly 2 weeks, hence the lack of posts).
So we've lit a fire (it's been snowing since Friday night) and are taking it easy. The dogs don't seem to mind, as they're also exhausted, dreaming and sighing at my feet.
While in the desert - with no phone or email or distraction - I thought back to my first time there, down that stretch of highway 211 toward Canyonlands, and finally acknowledged what I've been ignoring.
It's been a tough few months. Year. Couple years.
I can't actually calculate how long, but Brad's been around for much of it, and I know it can't be easy on him. I've lost my fire and spark and charm and psyche. I don't have a plan or any goals, and I'm tired of feeling mediocre all the time.
I don't know what to do, what my next steps should be. I feel guilty for being so extravagant - it's not lost on me that it's a fucking luxury to whine about feeling sad and not being skinny when I have friends battling cancer and losing loved ones. But if I could just snap out of this, I would, and I'd drench myself in the vibrance I used to have - the vitality that has seen me through everything good.
But I can't. I've tried switching meds all around and having my thyroid checked and changing my diet and getting more exercise and taking more rest days, and this summer was the worst yet. I looked up the other day and realized that it's the middle of October, again, and nothing has changed. I'm still unsure of myself, I still don't know what I want to do with my life, I still feel unremarkable and lame.
And of course it's not all bad. Certain things - walking Arnie, playing Scrabble with Brad, cooking, yoga, dance - give me joy. An hour ago, Brad and I walked the dogs to a nearby park to let them run amok, and on the way, passed a house with a bunch of those enormous, blow-up halloween lawn decorations (a giant tarantula, a ghost, a Homer Simpson dressed as a skeleton - huh?). Arnie wasn't sure what they were, so he crouched very low and crept up to them. After a few air sniffs, he moved in for closer investigation, accidentally bumping the tarantula's leg with his snoot. The resulting tumult saw Arnie hiding behind my legs, actively avoiding eye contact with the oversized nylon tarantula and his brother, Red Dog, who was almost-but-not-really rolling his eyes in embarrassment.
I need to set more goals and work harder at seeing all the good and funny and kind and joyful things and people around me. I made a promise today - to myself, but I said it out loud to Brad so that he could help hold me accountable - to start abiding by Thumper's Rule.
Without being too self-helpy, I'll say that I believe positive energy begets positive energy, and I've been putting lots of negativity into the universe lately. It's no surprise I'm a mess.
So all day - and I know it's only been one day - I've been censoring the snarky and hateful and nasty. I am sadly surprised at the effort it's taken. I guess I'm mostly snarky and hateful and nasty. Even the sarcastic has been tempered.
And it feels good.
It feels like a start.
More goals tomorrow.