I have misplaced my mojo this week. It has flown the coop. My vessel is empty. And by vessel, of course, I am referring to my inside self. I practically drained the hot water tank thinking about it in the shower this morning.
I am visualizing my mojo like frosting on a cupcake that has been licked off and left on the counter. There’s still the cupcake left, but it’s not nearly as nice as it was to begin with. The crumbs are crummy and it’s just a sad little heap of its former self. Today, I am the cupcake whose frosting has gone AWOL.
If your friend said to you: I just can’t find the strength, interest, and motivation to cook a hot meal for my family you’d probably tell that friend to give herself a break and order in or get the kids to pour themselves a geedee bowl of cereal. But for some reason we are much harder on ourselves, aren’t we? I can’t help but feel like a failure when I can’t pull my crap together enough to make dinner, especially when I’d much rather hibernate in bed with my head under the covers. And I know I’m not alone in this.
One of the benefits of being, ahem, a certain age is that I really know myself and I know what I need. My rational self knows this is just a low point and that it will pass. I know I should be taking my vitamins and finding ways to fill the vessel. I know I need to go easy on myself. I know I should be choosing certain foods over others. In fact, this happens to me every year at this time and I recognize the signs. Here’s something I wrote EXACTLY A YEAR AGO fer chrissakes.
On a positive note, I have been keeping up with my 10,000 steps resolution from way back. So there’s that, at least. The lite book comes out tonight for charging.
