Moody Judie gets a clue (once again)

Are you like me? Are there some lessons you have to learn over and over and over and over again? No matter how many times I go through this, it still suprises me at some level.

I have written before about my tendency to swing from high to low, energy-wise. I will have these waves of energy and enthusiasm when I get more done in a day or two than I got done for months before. When those waves come I ride them as long as I can.

When the wave crashes, things I really care about - like writing here - seem too much work to even consider. And it's not necessarily depression, although I suppose it could be. It is like my answer to everything is "meh", which I understand just became an actual word. Good word.

Well, I'm riding one of those energy waves now. I'm sitting in my cute, clean, tidy apartment, where a week ago I made a discovery akin to one you would have on an archeological dig. I picked up something that I know had been on the floor since August 11, 2008. Seriously. Nothing gross, just some laundry from an event at my church (for those of you in the know, it was the aprons from the kitchen at Polish Fest...clean but with the strings hopelessly tangled from the dryer).

What is surprising about my latest trip through Meh Valley (why use one metaphor when two is twice as nice?) is that during that same time I was going to the gym 4-5 times a week. For the first time in my entire life I was actually working on getting fit. I was so psyched up...working out with a trainer, feeling great, losing pounds and inches and body fat percentage. But I would get home and simply not care that the ironing board had been out since shortly after the last time I had company (which may or may not have been July 19, 2008...I'm looking into that).

Fortunately, when I hit my low point during a recent sleepless night, I remembered all the other times this has happened and I told myself over and over that I would not feel this way forever. And then I let myself cry. That is something I don't do often enough. I feel embarassed to cry, even when I'm alone. I'm afraid somebody will hear me.

Well, Somebody did.

(to be continued)