Peace, joy and a little productivity

I’ve been in a funk, could you tell?

Doing my work has supremely difficult. I haven’t been running like I should be a week (A WEEK!) before the Broad Street Run. I was crabby towards the apple help desk guy (and I’m never rude to customer service people). I ate ice cream for dinner last night (sorry Ma, at least it was lowfat).

I talked to my mom four times yesterday, mostly just to sit on the phone and whine about how I felt crappy and sad and yucky. Okay, in the interest of full disclosure, I’ve been a little (okay, a lot) premenstrual for the last couple of days, which never lightens my mood (or the scale!). I hate to perpetuate that stereotype, but what can I do, sometimes stereotypes do have some foundation in reality.

On our final phone call of the day, she read me a paragraph out of the spiritual book du jour, and it helped. It said that you have to live your life with peace in your heart and mind. That we will always have to do things that aren’t fun, that don’t inspire us, that require effort and dedication to finish, but that if we can come to those activities choosing to execute them from a place of peace, then you will be peaceful in the carrying out of those tasks. It might sound simplistic, but last night it was a revelation.

This morning, as I was walking from my car to the building, the sun was shining and I was dreading having to complete another day of work that leaves me feeling empty and unfulfilled, I thought of peace and that passage from the previous night. I stopped walking and said out loud, in the empty parking lot, “I choose peace, joy and productivity today.” This declaration made me feel instantly lighter and a bit readier to take on the day that was opening before me.

Lately I’ve been wishing my life away. I’ve been desperate to be at the next stage, working the next job, meeting the next boy, figuring out what/how/when to go back to school. Nothing about my life as it is was satisfying me. I’ve been acting like myself at my ninth birthday party, lower lip quivering and ready to burst into tears because the event (a really lovely party with good friends, loving parents and fun gifts) wasn’t living up to the image I had created in my head and so it must not be okay. But that ends here. I’m drying up the tears, throwing away the expectations and choosing to go to and participate in my party.

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