Elder Maxwell once called self-pity a sludge. And I can state with perfect knowledge that he is right. Self-pity is a sludge. A deep, thick muck that is slippery. Easy to fall into, difficult to crawl out of and terribly messy. I feel like it's all over me and I could seriously use a shower.
For so long I have been feeling so good. So happy. So content. And there's this small series of events that all combined have left a weight on me. And now I find myself back in this pot-hole that seems to stretch forever in both directions on this life path that is mine. (And Hubby's). Seriously. I think next month I just might burn every calendar in my house. And I might just toss my box of ovulation sticks in the fire too.
Okay. I know I don't mean it. I'm just in a funk. Let's just point the finger at hormones and call it good, shall we? Clearly, I am not my usual self. Luckily, it never lasts more than a day or two.
Ahhh. Just writing it makes me feel better! Like I just took a warm shower.
P.S. I totally exercised today. Good. For. Me!
