My big child is turning 13 tomorrow. His party was yesterday and it was nicely low-key for a change.
He’s finishing up his art portfolio for an interview at his future high school next Thursday. He works at the speed of a geriatric turtle. His attention to detail is great but my anxiety cannot handle that speed. I need this interview to be over.
A work project has hit top speed and is making me dream of sprints and tasks and tickets and deadlines.
My general work environment continues to be a bit highly charged due to youknowwhat (aka Brexit).
We’ve had house guests for the past 4 weeks.
I ran a lot in 2017 and kept up 40km a week mileage for January but it robbed me from some other activities and it’s made my left foot sore.
Boo. I won’t call it an injury. I don’t ‘do injuries’. It’s just a sore foot that actually only really hurts when walking but not when I’m running.
Anyway, time will heal.
I’m back to running less and going rock climbing on Sundays again.
I don’t actually NEED to run a lot.
And nobody actually cares* how fast or how far run.
I just need to run exactly how much I feel like running and just how fast I feel like running.
*in a positive way, meaning – I’m not a lesser of a person if I run less or slower.
My therapist says everything I’m describing to her is just life.
So I’m struggling with ‘just life’.
I got tired of feeling all jittery though as if I have a job interview coming up.
I got tired of continuously calm-talking to my own brain like it’s a toddler. “It’s ok. You’re ok. See? Look around? Everything’s ok. Everyone’s ok. I’ll be fine.”
So I’m back on Citalopram as of last week.
I just need a break from this overthinking brain of mine for a little bit.
Even though it’s ‘just life’.
I don’t care.
It’s my life and I’m tired.
And so at the moment I’m feeling like there’s light at the end of this tunnel/winter.
I’m reading a lot, both fiction to let my brain wander off to other worlds, and non-fiction to make me think about new things/concepts/ideas.
I’m eating cake if I want to. I’ve learned that it’s not dairy or sugar or gluten that makes me bloated. Most of the time it’s just eating way too much. Shoving a huge serving of vegetables down because it’s the “right thing to do” but then not really being emotionally satisfied I end up eating more stuff on top of it.
Now I try to stop and think whether I actually want to eat a gigantic cold salad OR whether a smaller soup or a tuna salad sandwich would actually be more satisfying.
I’m watching a lot of the Winter Olympics.
I loved the Greatest Showman.
And now I’m off to wrap my big kid’s presents for tomorrow and then I’ll either have a nap or do some clean & jerks in the back yard. Whichever I feel like doing when the time comes to it ;)