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The Weight of it

It’s a new year, but I’m struggling to feel the hope and excitement I should be feeling. Rather than being excited about the blank pages to be filled, I am stressed, anxious, a bit sad, a tiny bit angry, and a whole lot of frustrated. I’m tired and unmotivated. My stomach is in knots. Thinking about resolutions only makes me feel a failure already. I have a serious case of Negative Nellie-itis. Blah. Blech. It sucks to not have hope on the second day of the year.

It doesn’t help I’m fighting an injury. My running has been sidelined for a week. The level of pain means essentially no cardio at all. Which makes me feel like a total blob, and frustrated  I can’t begin to start on re-gaining a healthier lifestyle. It means pulling out of a race I was really excited about.  For a runner, not being able to run will drive you insane. I see other runners out there getting it done and it just makes me sad, as well as jealous.

Last week, I had plans for this new year. Now, I don’t even want to think about them. It’s overwhelming. I look at the to do list hanging over my computer and I just want to erase it all, crawl into my cave, and hibernate for a couple of months.

This will pass. I know it will. I’ll get a few good nights’ sleep and my outlook will be much improved. Giving myself the weekend. The kids go back to school Tuesday. Then I will re-frame, and dig in. For now, I’m letting myself have this pity party.

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