After sitting in the town of Blues, I had to come out some time right? I am not one to sit in the tub for too long. The water gets cold and sooner or later you have to pull the plug and listen to the water drain. That’s what I decided I would do. I would just will myself out of the funk. That seems simple enough right? If I could sit and be in it; couldn’t I just get out of it?
Turns out that’s a no. Turns out when I try that I eat my feelings. All of my feelings. ‘Tis the season for treats. So one…dozen..cookie won’t hurt right? Not to mention every article telling you how to not gain the holiday weight (prepare food, plan for the parties, and don’t drink your calories) or how to get over the blues (get a light, go out side, keep exercising…) and so the self pity party just moves into great and now you’re fat too.
The self talk can be simply amazing. Don’t believe half the shit you tell yourself; especially when you are in the town of Blue.
I did the only thing that I know how to do when I am in a funk. I sat on the sofa and watched TV and I drank wine. And when all the sweets I had been eating finally gave me a stomach ache; I got off my ass.
The one thing I didn’t stop during my funk is my work out. God I know. Here I am talking about working out….again. But listen to me for a second because this is my tale; I kept working out. I just switched it around. I went back to one of my favorites. I know that when I am in a difficult mental place the last thing I need is something new taxing my brain.
Even on days I don’t want too. Even on days I want to sleep. And especially on days where I want to eat all of my feelings; I work out. I do it because even if I cry through it, I got it done. Trust me there have been days where I have cried through it.
Where was I ? I swear I am going some where with this. Oh yeah, the shit you tell yourself. So I have to arm myself with all the good thoughts so that I don’t just decide to move into Blue-Ville. This isn’t fun. It’s some times feels over whelming to get out of it.
I am looking at the end of era. I am looking into the future and remember every thing that tried to knock me down but failed. I also remind myself I have ideas, thoughts and plans to start, to keep going, and to finish.
I remember the person I want to be. Not the person I was. I remember that I am looking forward to becoming her and loving her. So I sit myself down and I say to myself; and I know it’s myself because I am usually naked in front of the mirror having this talk (sorry mom). I flex for a minute because I am easily distracted and because I need my triceps to pop a little more and I realize my legs are still amazing; and then I look up and I remember. I remember who I am and I start my pep talk. I tell her I have enough of this bullshit of pointing out every flaw and this mental pity party I was allowed to have is over. I have one life. One. Life is a very fragile, precious thing and I intend on going through it as I always have: with a loud laugh, a drink in my hand, a pair of boots, and an awesome resting bitch face with a who the fuck do you think you are attitude.
I wish I could tell you I snapped my fingers and it was that easy. Every day I get up and do the same thing I always do. Tell my dogs to go back to bed. And then I grab my clothes, brush my teeth and get on with my routine. Because the only way out of the Blues is to keep driving and walk away from that plate of cookies.
I have also learned that I need to reach out to the people in my life. The thoughts on a loop get stuck and I feel no one wants to hear from me. Only when I am happy? That’s dumb. My life isn’t a Facebook post.
My advice for you is to pack a notebook at all times and when you need some perspective; write it out and not just the bad stuff either. Write to yourself like you would your best friend. You’d hug her and tell her that she is a bad ass bitch. Celebrate your wins. Daily.
My last piece of advice as you wave good bye to the town of Blues is to listen to some George Strait. He always has good advice.