a day of mope

When the sun rose behind the red tree in the backyard I noticed how muted everything looked. This morning I couldn’t see much color in the world. The sky was a soft pink, a light white blue. The grass shaded gray, the red tree caught in a silhouette.

I got up early to write – it was still dark out and even before I turned around in bed, even before I opened my eyes, I felt alone.

I’ve been moping around this morning. Trying to write, writing a few stanzas and giving up – not that what I was doing wasn’t working, I just suddenly felt tired of being me. What do we do when not even our skin feels tired, but our spirits too?

Well I know I cry a lot and am wearing two of my boyfriend’s sweatshirts in the hopes that I can cover myself with something/someone else. I know I tried to sleep another hour on the couch, pulled the blanket over my head to block out the sun now fully awake. I know I thought about what it would feel like for people in my life to pass on – not that I ever ever wish that, but I’ve been lucky enough for death to never hit close to home yet. I’ve felt it knock, but it’s never entered. That sort of loss is not something I know and it terrifies me. I’m not even sure I feel like posting this, but I suppose I will.

This is harder than I expected it to be. And I worry about the day it’s going to get even harder.

I ate some pumpkin bread, warmed it up, drank cold milk, played a video game that I haven’t played in years and I immediately felt guilty for it – for playing the game. The thought that I could be writing, reading, expanding, creating. I could be doing so much more right now, fulfilling more, being more. I should be looking at the leaves, looking at the colors – they just seem duller today, there’s too much cloud cover.

I’m already behind schedule – starting a monday behind might not be a good thing. But monday can wait.

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2 Responses to a day of mope

  1. Recently, when my mind shakes its scolding finger at me, I search for the thought or action that would make ME happy, not the one that would appease the critic. At one point I shifted gears by thinking about my son’s birthday, tomorrow, how he still is excited by the day even though he is grown, and of the parties we used to have. Another time I cooked and washed dishes, by choice, and the gloom lifted. I’m sure I say it so often that I sound like a parrot, but this is a tricky business, the balance, being and doing; not selling ourselves out by mad attempts to overachieve but not undervaluing our gifts by ignoring them. It is here every day. I think the best I can say is that I used to feel bad and not know why…now I know what sorts of things I say to myself and am a little better at deflecting them.

  2. rachvb says:

    If you sound like a parrot (which you don’t btw) perhaps I sound like a parrot as well (maybe I don’t either – just reoccurring themes)
    You are taught as a kid to not be selfish – and then you get older and realize that sometimes you NEED to be selfish. Makes me wonder if part of “growing” means unlearning all the things or perhaps some of the things we were taught as kids and to decide for ourselves.
    I have felt a bit cloudy lately – for reasons I’m not absolutely sure of yet.
    I can certainly tell the difference between ruminating about good things vs bad things – good things most always win out and for that I am grateful. The gloom will lift – in fact from yesterday to today it has considerably. Thanks.

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