Life’s a beach. Or life’s a bitch. It’s all what you make of it.
I had trouble, as I often do on my days off, getting going this morning. After I got out of bed, I found myself sitting on the kitchen floor with my dogs. Despite what you might think from the way I talk about them, they can’t actually talk. Shocking, I know. But they do speak to me.
Normally they come up to me every morning, saying in their doggy language, “It’s morning! It’s a beautiful day!” And I totally reciprocate. It’s nice to see them so excited. Today, I just went in and sat down next to them. They slowly got up, stretched, and took turns shoving their faces in my lap and licking my face. I couldn’t help but be a little energized by this. They took a little longer to work up to their “it’s morning” routine, but they got there.
I found myself smiling at this. The dogs responded appropriately to my need for a little help, and they brought my mood up with theirs. Surely they are not able to analyze this whole process as I do, but it’s just innate to them.
As I let them outside this morning, I asked myself what would happen if I let my mood get me down. Well, I know well what happens, because it’s not uncommon to me. But what happens if I fight it? Even if fighting it doesn’t make me feel better right now, will it make things better later? The answer, I think, is yes.
I don’t feel great right now. I don’t want to do anything. But I’m fighting it. I’m doing something. Getting things done, not stopping. It sucks, because I don’t feel that I have the mental energy for this. But I’m still doing stuff, and I haven’t passed out from lack of energy yet, don’t imagine that I will, either.
And when I come out of this fog, which I certainly will, I’ll be at least a couple steps closer to that beach.