The February Blob

Life is not that hard. My life, by comparison to several million people, is not that hard. I still feel like I’m under a giant crushing rock lately. I’m the blob from the depression commercial. I think it might have been the Zoloft advertisement years ago. The bubble blob that drifted through life with the serious and concerned sounding male voiceover:

“Is it hard to get out of bed in the morning?”

“Have you lost interest in the things you used to enjoy?”

“Do you cry more often?”

Do you find every single thing you encounter irritating? Do you find yourself crying when you forget your kids’ breakfast bars on the kitchen counter in the morning? Does everything, including washing two cups sitting in the sink after breakfast, feel like the most monumental of tasks?

How many days of exercise per week will it take before endorphins flood my body and make me laugh like a maniac?

Is it weird that in conversations with friends or my children or my boss, I make up the answers I want to hear from them in my head? That I’ve created an imaginary significant other with whom I chat in my head (obviously I make up his responses too, he’s perfect). That I miss belly dancing not just for the exercise and companionship but I also loved making vibrator jokes when my instructor talked about how great belly dancing is for sex?

How long does a funk last? I attended my kids’ sock hop the other night and I found myself clinging to the wall of the gym, not unlike my own middle- and high school days. I made conversation with a tall, lanky man wearing glasses who was standing beside me. I guessed he might have spent some time on the wall in those days as well. He talked to me about his divorce. Not unlike a conversation I may have had with someone else on the wall in school, minus the legalities of marriage. A friend checked in with me the next day. She thought I had looked sad. I didn’t realize I was wearing sadness. She said, “It’s understandable. You have a lot on your plate.”

So does everybody. Especially my mom and dad, when they come to visit and they are helping me catch up on 30 loads of laundry and fixing ceiling fans that have been broken for a year. I continue to need a mom and dad to take care of me. For the love of God, I’m 46 years old. I think. I can’t remember. I keep thinking I’m 45 but that may have been one or two birthdays ago.

Is this the post holiday blues? Only to last until the holiday season starts again in July? Is it pre-Valentines blues? Lord, I hate that day. I heard an idea on the radio to give people who might be suffering from a breakup or a death or just might be single and not loving it, a thoughtful gift. I’m totally going to do that.

Just writing this has brightened me up a little. It is a skill to make yourself smile, even when others watching you type away on your phone think you are a lunatic.

In just 12 hours, it will be Monday morning, the start of another work week. Thank goodness I like what I do for a living. That’s a plus. I’m going to work on gratitude this week. That’s supposed to help. ♥️

6 thoughts on “The February Blob

  1. Yes, yes, yes I feel this way. I think after all the festivities of the holiday season we realize it is just cold and gloomy and I for one desperately need summer. Though last year I lost my cousin suddenly in April and summer ended up feeling gloomy too. This feeling has increased with age and most likely the isolation of being a single parent. And I also have broken things and ever month my cousin comes for work. I always have a list of things for him to fix. Haha! Lucky him!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Awww thank you for sharing this. There is definitely comfort in knowing when you are not alone. And you are right, it has increased with age in some ways – and also runs a bit parallel to the stage the kids are at. They are so demanding and I am so exhausted 😑 lately I have been giving in a lot more and not being as supportive as I could be. I’m sorry about losing your cousin 😞 I hope this spring goes well for both of us and comes with some renewed energy and joy 🙂

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  2. I totally get it. There are so many ways for life to be hard. I wish people reached out to help each other more. It feels like we are all floating by each other in such overwhelmed states. Thanks for reminding me to ask for help. And to reach out to offer help others even when I’m not asked. ❤

    Liked by 1 person

    • Yes! I also wish the same. It is definitely a cultural aspect of this country that I’m not crazy about 😑 and good idea to reach out – when we are not drowning in our own stuff LOL – I find it helps me take the attention off my own stuff.

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