I don’t want anyone to see me like this – raccoon eyed rocky Balboa without the motivation and drive. Little miss motivator isn’t very good at motivating herself today it seems.
Oh sure, I still woke up at 5 and worked out, dropped off Ethan with all the same happy goodbyes as every morning. I still made it into work, actually maybe a little more on time than usual. I announced some pretty big news to my girls there, and shared some teary eyed smiles. My love Doug spent his lunch break with me letting me spill the drama that is my life right now all over him…yet again, with all the fervor and heart a human can have. He never lets a moment pass without showing me his unbelievable support, and I can’t imagine the weight he must feel.
But this girl leaned on her mom until she could no longer stand.
I can’t lean anymore. I don’t want to lose anyone else.
Sometimes when I feel this way, reaching out to help console someone else swiftly frees me from my own muck. I tried this trick tonight, and for the first time in memory, it backfired with a great big explosion of FAIL. A fellow Beachbody coach, whom I’ve never met, posted a vent about feeling overwhelmed with her crazy busy life, and how she thought she was going to have a nervous breakdown. I replied with my normal self-diagnosed counselor heart-felt advice, and felt that familiar calm wash over me for a very short period of time. When I checked back in, the girl had arrived home from her terrible day to her husband handing her a glass of wine. He was there, and I felt happiness for her, and pity for me until I was 10 steps lower than the lowness from which I had started. First comes grief, then comes pity, then comes guilt. And that’s the snowball that I fear every single time the emptiness kicks in.
I know better than to live there, and I won’t. I will awaken and be renewed, which is my personal proof of God’s existence. Always has been. Always will be. But for tonight I will make my own dreams and pretend I live in that world – the world where emptiness does not exist…except in a glass in a quaint restaurant where the server endlessly replenishes.