Reaching 85 feet into the air, it is no Everest. But I still couldn't climb it. I am mortally petrified of heights. If I am more than three feet off the ground I begin to feel woozy. I don't remember where I was going with this. It was something about looking at obstacles in my way that seem so meaningless and so minor and why can't I just do them. They are small. Except sometimes it doesn't matter that impediments or tasks or obstacles are small because they are still beyond you at the moment. And maybe forever. Not everyone can be a mountain climber. I get major Ass-kicking points in the battle against Depression today for going to the YMCA and working out even though it was my first day teaching a new class and I was too late to go to the Pilates class that I wanted to attend. I found myself making all these excuses for why I really shouldn't go. And then I told myself to shut up and get in the car. Now. Because it would be good for me, because it was part of my plan, because having a routine is important for me and for my kid. My plan is to go every Tuesday and Thursday at the same time so she gets to play with the same kids and know the staff members well. It is my make-shift recreation preschool for her. More points for me as well in the ass-kicking department for getting close to 8 hours of sleep last night, for taking my meds first thing in the morning, for remembering to pack a lunch for myself and not just everyone else... Little mole hills that look like mountains from here. But I scaled them, and I feel pretty good about my efforts today. This does not hang together like I want it to, but that is okay. Grateful Crap: That I am not a refugee from Syria. That students in my new class got out of Syria with their entire family three months ago. Daily Convexions: took meds (150mg sertraline, 300mg bupropion) 25 minutes on the elliptical trainer drank enough, but not until the end of the day, so that's debatable slept last night... and I have been in bed before 1:30 for many days now, although once it was only by a few minutes I hate that I feel better when I sleep enough. Comments are closed.
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K. BuchananQuaker, teacher, parent, |