Funky

I'm in a little bit of a funk. It's not terrible, and I am thankful that I can recognize that it's just a funk and that life isn't really completely overwhelming and hopeless. In the meantime, though, I'm feeling overwhelmed and run-down and just... blah.

For the past few days I've been able to "fake it till I make it" and just push through. I've gotten my Christmas decorations down, gone grocery shopping, folded laundry, kept my house reasonably clean, fed my family good, healthy meals, and even done some writing. These are big accomplishments for me, because it wasn't long ago that I would wake up feeling this way and spend an entire day laying on the couch weighed down by a toxic mixture of depression and guilt. So yes, even in my funk, I'm feeling a little victorious. And darn proud of myself.

And this morning I was determined to do it again. I was up at 5:00--my goal for every morning, but lately I've been hitting the snooze a couple of times--and hit the ground running. I was able to do my Bible study AND be productive until I got the kids up for school. And their morning routine went smoothly. I was proud of them.

But then they left for school. And it was just me... and Roo. My sweet, loving... strong-willed... destructive... high-energy two-year-old. And I knew. I knew I wasn't going to be able to get anything done. And the list of things that NEED to be done was going to pile up on me. And I couldn't work around the house without being frustrated with Roo. And I couldn't play with Roo without feeling guilty about the things that weren't getting done.

So I decided to run away.

Yep, I packed up my baby, his diaper bag, my laptop, my Kindle, my smartphone... just a general ridiculous amount of technology... and I ran away. To my parents' house. We escaped our house and just went to play. I played with Roo, talked to my folks, played the piano, had lunch. I ran away from my problems today, and I am just fine with that.

So here's to small victories. And small escapes. The funk will pass, the work will get done, the two-year-old will not always be two. And tomorrow I'll fake it till I make it a little better than today.