I have been in my own self-imposed blogless world. I haven't read any blogs. I haven't written for any blogs. I feel flat. Not the kind of flat Matt Stephens said I was when I secretly listened in on a three-way call as his friend asked him if he liked me in the 8th grade. (I've bloomed Matt! I've finally bloomed!)
But the kind of flat where there's not a whole lot of emotion pulsating through your body and you're just sort of floating through your days not really caring about them one way or another.
This isn't actually the worst thing in the world either. It sort of clears my head from all the intense worrying and sadness to take a moment to think about how I can move to the other side: joy and living. Or 'L-I-V-I-N' as a certain Dazed and Confused character so profoundly spelled it.
My friend, R, came to visit in January and one thing she said to me has replayed in my head at least a hundred times sine she left...she told me that she was worried about me most because I didn't seem to get any pleasure out of life. It stung at first to hear those words; but it stung because she was dead on with her observation.
For those of you who know me best, I have always lived life and had as much fun as I could. I think fun Debbie is still within me some place. She likes to make appearances on increasingly rare occasions. (Get me to a karaoke bar and watch me go!) So how do we as mothers--forget the special needs component--get some of that pleasure back into our lives? Please share your thoughts in the comments section. I need the inspiration.
I have more to say, but I think this is an appropriate place to stop.