Crying in Bed

I’ve been in a funk. Maybe a “I got to see my friends and now I’m sad cause I miss them” funk. Or maybe a “I have no idea what is happening in our house over the next six months and I’m stressed” funk. Or, it could be just a classic case of the “I started new medicine and my old medicine is leaving my body and the new one is kicking in and it’s making me crazy” funk. I’m betting on a combo funk this time around, either way, I’m lying in my bed, a half hour before I’m due to get Jackson from school, crying a little, and trying to brighten other people’s days with funny memes and pics of me being a fool. I think it’s working for them. I hope it works for me.

I tend to do this. I tend to “reach out” by actually reaching out and dropping a funny note or a ridiculous picture. Then of course if they want to talk I close up shop, like nah, I’m good. I’m starting to understand this about me. Starting to discover why I do the little things I do. I figure if I’m having a down day, one of my friends is bound to be having one too, so I check on them, ignoring the fact that I’m in bed at 1:30 pm. That I haven’t been able to write in five days. That I’m taking offense to the most bizarre shit and crying because why won’t someone #ImpeachThatMotherFucker already?!

I guess this is my check in with you guys. I’m alive. I’m eating, of course I’m eating. I’m still walking (I just usually forget my Apple Watch so I don’t know how much), and I’m working on things. Always working on things. Tomorrow is therapy. Tomorrow will be better.

Stay happy and safe out there, y’all. And take a day if you need to.


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