You all know I’ve been going through some stuff. And there are good days and bad days that cycle through (sometimes it seems endlessly). I’m more than certain that friends are getting tired of my shit. I’m tired of my shit. I’m tired of the ceaseless parade of thoughts that run over, and over, and over in my head. The same story, and the injustice that it carries. And my powerlessness to fix it, to solve it, to gain back my power.

And my friends have been wonderful. They’ve listened they’ve helped me get through the toughest points. They have been soft and understanding. They’ve allowed me space to rant and cry and feel all the things. But I’m getting tired of my own emotional stink. I reached a breaking point last night. I was laying in bed, hoping I could somehow manifest a small tear in my own heart. A weak blood vessel wall in my brain. Anything that would silently open in the night and insure I wouldn’t have to wake up today and face another round of my emotional baggage. That’s how exhausted I am of all of this.

But I did wake up. I woke up and my depression sat heavy on my chest and begged me to stay in bed. But I know if I don’t get up and move in the morning, it will hold me hostage for the whole day. So I got up, dressed, checked my email and had a response from an older lady in one of the groups I’m a part of. I’d written her, irate, and kind of rudely (not proud of that) last night about some issues with the group.

I expected her response to be in kind. But it wasn’t. But neither was it coddling to my tantrum. In essence she grabbed me by the shirt front, pulled me up off the floor, looked me in the eyes and said: Yeah, you’re going through it. We all do. It’s not the end of the world, stop being a little bitch about it and do something. (This is complete paraphrasing). She’s too decent to use that kind of language, but the salt-of-the-earth response was the same.

We all suffer. Get over yourself. You’re not going to get better sitting in your self-pity. We can’t change the way of the world but we get to decide how we let it change us. So stop being a little bitch. Do something about it.

I dunno. I think that’s actually the thing I needed to hear. Pull yourself up kid. You’re tougher than this. So you took a loss. Don’t we all? Move the fuck on.

So this morning I worked out, went through the normal morning routine and looked at my to do list as a series of steps towards something better. Even if it’s just more sanity. Even if its just away from the pit of vipers I barely escaped. Even if its just a step towards something else to be determined. It’s better than sitting still, with the loop of regrets and hurt running over and over in my head. Some days we step far, some days we shuffle a few inches. But today when that loop threatens to run, a broken megaphone on repeat, in my head…I’m going to give it that response… Stop being the victim. Get over yourself. Get back to work.