SSDD

Why is it that I only ever seem motivated to write when I'm feeling down? What good is it to engage when I have nothing good to say? My lemons, they spoiled, so there will be no making lemonade not this week, anyhow... Just sayin', ya know?

There seems to be a plethora of shit being slung around. Here lately, I'm glad to be just out of the reach of the shit being slung. My empathy lies not where others think it ought to. Is it "mean" of me to feel this way? And why don't I care if that answer is "yes, Christina, yes, it is mean of you to feel that way."? Why doesn't that matter to me? Deep within, I know. I think this means I have arrived. I have disembarked the train at the station named, "I don't give a fuck what you think about me, and what I think and feel". Really? Keep me out of it.

I just want the joy back. Honestly? I think I'm going hormonal. Peri-menopausal. I should probably get that looked into. I never used to mood swing this way. If I was down, there was a reason, sadly enough. It's sad, to me, that I've found a place of joy only to have my middle-aged hormones take over and pull me back to the dark side. Maybe I should just say, "fuck it" and get medicated. Sure, I'll gain 3000 pounds and no one will ever look twice at me, but, damn it, I'll be happy. I know... I know... it's MY job to make me happy. Thing is? I'm doing all the things I should be doing, and it just isn't working lately.

Well... I'll be back. I know I will. I'll figure this out. It's just not my way not to. Ya know? My leg doesn't say, "remember, I win" for no reason.