Happy Birthday to Me

For those of you who have stuck around while I've been a total Debbie Downer, I tip my hat and offer many thanks.  Just getting those bad feelings onto paper (well, screen) and not having them bouncing around inside is very freeing.  Sometimes I just have to purge everything and clear my head so that I can write something else.  I'm sorry if I've concerned or worried anyone.  I've been in a dark place, though, and the only way out for me is to expose it.  I told y'all from the beginning that I'm going to be HONEST.

But today is not a day for gloom and doom.  Today is my 34th birthday, and DANGIT I'M GOING TO BE HAPPY.  So how have I spent my birthday thus far you ask?  Well, I'm so glad you want to know because I'm about to bust out the old "what I've done today" post that I so intensely try to avoid.  What I've done today has been important, though, because it relates to what I've written about the last few days.  I want to be happy and healthy and that doesn't just magically happen.  It takes work on my part.  And that is exactly what I've done today--WORKED.

I made breakfast for me and the Peanut.  Real breakfast, too.  Not a bowl of instant oatmeal or cereal, not a Pop-Tart or granola bar.  I made each of us a plate of homemade French toast, complete with a powdered sugar and warm syrup.  We sat on the couch and watched part of Rise of the Guardians while we ate. 

After breakfast, I took the dogs out and fed them, too.  The backyard is in need of a good mowing and I knew rain was in the forecast today and pretty much every day this week.  I asked Amelia if she wanted to finish her movie while I mowed.  She said, "Nope, I want to jump on my trampoline."  

Alrighty then.

Five minutes later, she was on her trampoline.  I was in a lawn chair, feeling completely useless.  I decided to get up and sweep the carport.  Well, sweep what is visible of the carport since it looks like a family of white trash hoarders live here.  

Wait, not looks.  Looked.  It looked like a family of white trash hoarders live here.  Why the change in verb tense?  Because the sweeping led to filling moving things around.  Moving things around led to opening boxes.  Opening boxes led to a box or garbage bags.  And so on and so on.  Long story short, I found myself three hours later with a mostly clean, organized carport and a massive pile of garbage to carry off. My mother also graciously came over in her pickup truck and carried a huge load to the local donation center.  

By the time I finished, I was filthy, sweaty and itchy.  And achy.  And exhausted.  And proud.  

And happy.  

I'm sure this sounds like a completely bizzaro way to spend a birthday, but this is exactly what I needed. I couldn't have given myself a better gift than to walk out my back door each day to a clean carport.  Plus, Peanut now has clean toys and a shady place to play.  Everyone wins!

Deep down, my brain knew what it was doing when it made me pick up that broom initially.  Being productive makes me happy.  Accomplishing something makes me happy.  Order makes me happy.  

I've had so much on my plate that I've struggled to keep up with all of my responsibilities (which currently include two homes).  When I've had a little free time, I've rewarded myself by being lazy and then wondered why I continue feeling so awful.  I know I need to rest and that I can't work all the time, but I'm not happy when my environment is in complete chaos.  I'm restless and anxious when I go to bed with a still full "to do" list.  

Being busy is good for me.  It's therapeutic.  Right now, I can feel a little bit of the real me peeking out. Working outside today allowed me to get rid of pent up frustration.  It gave me time to think about the things I need to contemplate, but gave me something else to focus on when the sad thoughts started creeping in.  

I know I need rest. I understand I need to focus on myself and getting better.  And I'm doing that, too.  After working outside, I came in, gave Amelia a bath, put her down for a nap, and took a long, hot shower.  Now I'm drinking a glass of tea and working on the blog I've ignored for so many months.  And in 45 minutes, I'm going to have a massage.  

It's all about balance.  Balancing the good and the bad, the happiness and the hurt, the work and the rest. I'm going to find it.  Hopefully, I'll be writing an entirely different type of post when 35 rolls around next year.  

Crap, did I just say 35?  Well, now I'm sad again.

Kidding.  

Mostly.  

(On a related note, do you know who hates productivity?  Toddlers.  Ain't no toddler got time for some productivity.)