I always get myself into a pickle in January. I did here see? And then again here. It’s like a case of the Sunday night blues – but 10 times worse. At least I am predictable in my yearly moods. My mind just seems to get in the way, and then come February, it’s back to business and I’m good. Or better at least.
Did you know that January is the highest month for divorce? I didn’t. Rob told me that last week and I guess it makes sense. People that were unhappy in December getting distracted with family and Christmas and holidays and thinking that maybe things would be different in January and then, what do you know? They are the same. Doing one last happy holiday for the kids perhaps?
A very good friend of mine has just had her marriage fall apart. It’s been a big, horrible, messy, awful mess. It’s bought up all kinds of things for me that I prefer to keep down around my toes, but instead it’s been in my heavy, soggy heart and always at the front of my over thinking mind. And I’ve been sad, so sad, to see it unfold. To be reminded that even though I feel most of the time not like one, I’m an adult now. Dealing with adult stuff. That we have children that are affected by our actions now, and that what happens now shapes the way our children think about important stuff like relationships and trust and other big life things for the rest of their lives. It’s a bit scary to think about isn’t it? While I have a job to feed, clean, educate and love my children that most of all, all I have to be is an example. Of being a good person. Of loving others and being loved.Of working hard. Of giving to people that don’t have as much as we do.
This morning I went for a run and the app on my phone wasn’t working and I almost convinced myself that I shouldn’t go because if it’s not recorded, then it didn’t happen right? If I don’t instagram that meal, we didn’t have it. If I don’t blog about something, then it never really happened. But I thought “fuck it” and I went anyway. And those 6km’s do count, because they happened, even if my phone tells me they didn’t. The sweat happened. The stupid games my mind played happened. The music that I listened to that touched me, spurred me on happened. And I went and did it, and now it’s done. Daisy looked at me when I came in the door a sweaty mess and said “wow Mum, well done, I love you” and I realised that maybe I’m doing OK right now after all.
And that’s all I really need to worry about. And focus on. This stupid January, and the rest of the year.
Every time this song comes on when I’m off on a run it puts a spring in my step. It’s good to run to for whatever reason. And I should probably make some kind of insightful remark that would connect this song and it’s lyrics to the rest of the post, but I’ve got nothing, even though I’m certain that there is indeed something there. I like it. That’s enough.