Motivation...somewhat lacking.
I was telling Kim the other day that folk in my gym looked decidedly glum and much put upon at the moment. Chumley Finn wants to do nothing more than curl up around a good book and pretend the outside world has fallen off a cliff, and I have insomnia.
I can't decide what gives exactly and find myself asking whence the energy vortex? It's got to be a January thing, no? A natural lull in energy levels, a post Christmas crash of sorts. I noticed it out and about this morning, folk looked not grumpy per se, but tired, deflated, we all seem that bit jaded.
As another day stretches out before me, and my egg white omelette settles boringly in my stomach I find I am swaddled in ennui. I must work for a few hours, I must attend the gym around 11:30 to make my 'can't really be arsed' legs run for 10k, I must return home and have lunch, then kick a cat out of my chair and work some more. Then I've got to go to bloody shops. Then dinner, then work, meh, same old same old.
Anyway, I was being all 'meh' and 'oh woe is me' and 'wah I'm tired' when the Paramour sent me an email about a friend of ours. Without going into a huge amount of detail, the email was sent to him from the wife of a friend of ours who is in hospital in a foreign country. Her husband, our friend, had a particularly nasty accident just before Christmas, resulting in a serious head injury. In her email, this lady expressed delight that our friend could come home for a few hours from hospital, and that he could read long sentences again, that he was learning to cook again. That although confused he was starting to remember things said to him five minutes beforehand.
I read it, feeling relieved, feeling ashamed, feeling like a bit of a divvy.
Yes January can be a bit of a chore; yes watching what you eat can be tedious; yes, working can be arduous; yes going to the gym can be a pain in the arse sometimes. But I can do these things without thinking. There is nothing wrong with me. Apart from being a bit tired I am robustly healthy. I can decide whether or not to mope or metaphorically kick myself in the arse.
Today, I believe I will kick my self in the arse. Because, really, it occurs to me that it's not such a bad day after all.
I can't decide what gives exactly and find myself asking whence the energy vortex? It's got to be a January thing, no? A natural lull in energy levels, a post Christmas crash of sorts. I noticed it out and about this morning, folk looked not grumpy per se, but tired, deflated, we all seem that bit jaded.
As another day stretches out before me, and my egg white omelette settles boringly in my stomach I find I am swaddled in ennui. I must work for a few hours, I must attend the gym around 11:30 to make my 'can't really be arsed' legs run for 10k, I must return home and have lunch, then kick a cat out of my chair and work some more. Then I've got to go to bloody shops. Then dinner, then work, meh, same old same old.
Anyway, I was being all 'meh' and 'oh woe is me' and 'wah I'm tired' when the Paramour sent me an email about a friend of ours. Without going into a huge amount of detail, the email was sent to him from the wife of a friend of ours who is in hospital in a foreign country. Her husband, our friend, had a particularly nasty accident just before Christmas, resulting in a serious head injury. In her email, this lady expressed delight that our friend could come home for a few hours from hospital, and that he could read long sentences again, that he was learning to cook again. That although confused he was starting to remember things said to him five minutes beforehand.
I read it, feeling relieved, feeling ashamed, feeling like a bit of a divvy.
Yes January can be a bit of a chore; yes watching what you eat can be tedious; yes, working can be arduous; yes going to the gym can be a pain in the arse sometimes. But I can do these things without thinking. There is nothing wrong with me. Apart from being a bit tired I am robustly healthy. I can decide whether or not to mope or metaphorically kick myself in the arse.
Today, I believe I will kick my self in the arse. Because, really, it occurs to me that it's not such a bad day after all.
Labels: a timely reminder.
posted by fatmammycat at 9:34 a.m.
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