Geez. I’m more than a little disappointed in myself. I’m sorry to be such a drag … but I’m not having an easy time with all this fun I’m supposed to be having. Last week, I REALLY struggled to find my fun mojo, hell, I struggled to find any mojo at all. I was schlepping around like I had an albatross the size of Manhattan — maybe several of the buggers — around my neck, on top of my head, and tied to my ankles. I was in a major funk — and not at all the fun kind.
I was — and still am, as of Saturday morning — struggling with the idea of having fun when I feel I’ve got so much to do, to accomplish, to “get in order” before I “allow” myself fun. It’s self-defeating, I know. Ridiculous to think that one’s life will ever be running smoothly enough to truly kick back and have fun knowing that everything else in that life is ticking along just fine.
The key — and I frickin’ KNOW this! — is to have fun DESPITE whatever else is going on. I believe it’s possible. I think it’s a mindset. I think, unbeknownst, unbidden, and unwelcome, I’ve developed a little chip on my shoulder. Well, maybe not a chip on my shoulder, exactly, but just a tired, kind of, WTF dent in my mojo.
I’m tired of my own self right now — if it were someone else yimming and yawing about feeling down, I’d say “It’s a choice. You can feel rotten or you can feel great — it’s all what you choose.”
So, anyway, last week — just kind of a slogging through each day to get to the next and not a lot of fun really unless you count the stop I made at the Quick Stop and my furtive purchase of a bar of tangy taffy.
Oh, good grief.