Just write (and breathe) and write some more

Damn, this getting happy business is hard.

I meant for this blog to be a journal of me trying to shake this funk and instead it's become a lot like my other blog with its sporadic posting and me trying to convince myself and anyone who reads that my shit? It is so together, yo.

I have to just write. I need to write every day to remind myself that even though I may have spent most of the weekend walking around in a fog and sighing a lot, I do still have some good moments. I need to remind myself of my accomplishments as well as my failures, no matter how mundane. Most of all, I need to stop starring at the blink, blink, blinkity-blink of the cursor while saying Well, fuckall. Who the hell cares anyway?

I care. That's important. Nobody is going to get me out of this but me.

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So, today....

I kept my temper (so far) with my eldest.

My baby, who never falls asleep while nursing, dozed off at my breast. It was all I could do to put her in her bed to finish her nap. That hurt. But it's a nice memory that will keep me warm when she's up again in the middle of the night.

The bathrooms are a mess and I just can't deal.

There's a book next to me that I desperately want to finish.

The sun is shining, it's above freezing and I got the girls out of the house to get supplies to make Valentines.

I did my hair today instead of being lazy and putting on a ball cap.

I just finished off a tub of cheese spread and there are Girl Scout cookies screaming at me from the counter. I won't be able to resist for much longer.

All in all, I'm not feeling as down as I did this weekend. It's not a great day but it's not a bad day either. Tomorrow is another day.

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Random picture that makes me happy: Three years ago this week - My oldest daughter, who was around 10 months at the time, and my dog, Fisher.


It made me smile. That's all I can ask for.