Ridiculous Yet Sorry

I'm actually really sorry I haven't been around lately. Normally, I'm all, "no, not apologizing for disappearing from the blog world for two weeks at a time; I have a real life to live if I want to have anything to blog about."

But this time, I'm really sorry.

Yes, my computer finally went to that big dumpster in the sky, but that was over a week ago. And I have had opportunities to blog since, but I just haven't been taking them. Scratch that; I've written at least 3 posts that, for whatever reason, I either can't finish or can't get worded just right, and I refuse to put anything out there that I'm not proud of or happy with. Seeing as this isn't college, and I'm not getting graded with a chance to re-write for a better one (and I only ever took that opportunity once, to turn a B into an A), I'm not ok with simply slapping up posts because I feel like I have to -- I feel like that's cheating myself, as well as my readers, out of my full attention and good content.

You folks deserve better than that (ESPECIALLY if you're still reading after this little unplanned hiatus!).

So, you may be wondering, why have I felt so totally, utterly uninspired lately? It's spring, warm weather and sunshine are in the air, the Red Sox are back in action, the Bruins are in the playoffs, sundresses are coming out, and Cape Cod mornings and afternoons on the boat are so close you can almost taste them. I should be in a great mood, like so many of my friends and colleagues and brethren of the blog universe.

Yet really, I just want to slap them.

Is that bad?

I've never really been much of an optimist -- in fact, I'm a pessimist by nature. I've spent the better part of the last seven years trying to get a grip on my cynical worldview and channel my negative thoughts into positive actions and emotions. Every so often, though, I lose that battle and find myself drowning in a sea of negativity -- about myself, my body, my world and my place. It's a lot like old-school Meridith Grey... dark and twisty. While other people found Mer annoying as all hell, (and yes, I did, too), I also found her to be a very relateable character; she was annoying me because I was annoying myself (does that even make sense?).

Lately, it's been more of the physical aspects getting me down. I've gained 22 lbs since last May, when I quit counting calories. Which, if you've been following for awhile, puts me at roughly 14 lbs below my all-time high weight. I go back-and-forth on whether or not I really want to go back down the only road that, in my adult life, has gotten me back to the good side of healthy; yes, my weight, blood pressure and overall body image improved while I counted calories, but I mentally terrorized myself to the point of self-implosion, where if I didn't find a way to eat a chicken wing guilt-free, I was going to wind up on the news as "Woman Goes Berserk; Stabs Bar Patron With Chicken Carcass."

B loves me, but I don't know that he loves me enough to bail me out of that one, particularly considering that he would have been in closest proximity to me and therefore likely to have been said victim.
     
So, I guess that's out. 

Seriously, though, I'm trying hard to yank myself out of this random funk that has now lasted, oh, a year. Honestly, I think the last time I was really, truly happy with myself was June -- and seeing as it's March, that's a LONG. FRAKKIN'. TIME. Faking it 'til I'm making it just doesn't seem to be working, and I'm not sure why I thought it would; the last time I went through an extended period of angst, I was faking it, but I had professional help on the making it side. I (unfortunately) don't have that kind of time anymore, though, so I have to work with what I've got. Which is a strong support system of friends, family and bloggers, a kickass gym membership, and control over how I cope with each day... and today, I'm coping with words instead of white chocolate.

It's not much, but it's a start.