I’m starting to really dislike my favorite phrase. I’ve always used the phrase “hills and valleys” to describe the rollercoaster moments of life. It usually comforts me when I am down at a low point, because of the promise of the hill to come. Now, I’m starting to get a little bitter. Because sure enough, when you are finally in a good place — weee, you slide your fat ass right down into the valley.
That’s where I’ve been the past several days or so. Things have been pretty good lately and then suddenly, out of nowhere, I realized I’d spent the last two days in my jammies, not accomplishing anything, getting impatient with my child, ignoring responsibilities, and feeling on the verge of tears every 10 minutes. And since that realization, I’ve slapped on the smile and tried to get caught up and filled every other waking moment with projects (hello stripping wallpaper and deep cleaning the office and rearranging furniture). But still, at night, after the duties are done, the lump in the throat is still there. The sense that something is wrong, the discontent, the physical sickness that I can’t pinpoint to it’s emotional cause.
I should be comforted by the prospect of another hill ahead, or at least coping with this valley with the newfound perspective I’ve had lately, but instead I’m just all doomsday about everything. Lonely. Bored. Discontent. Uneasy. I’ve been pouring it all out in prayer every night, but otherwise ignoring it. Swallowing it down in true Erin fashion. Not the best, but what else can I do?
Maybe it’s my approaching birthday. Those have bothered me the last few years. Maybe it’s a protective mechanism, not wanting to get my hopes up about the possibility of happiness. Maybe it’s my old friend depression still lurking in the background. Whatever it is, it can pack it’s bags and get the hell out now, kthnx. I’m tired of feeling like the crazy lady.