I promise to continue my thoughts about the problem with unprocessed grief, but each time I dig a little deeper into my unprocessed grief, it takes a lot out of me.
Today I’ve been battling with a familiar script that I repeat to myself from time to time.
“I hate myself.”
Like a scratched CD, this phrase has been skipping in my mind.
I dislike it more than:
“I’m sorry for being me.”
Which is what usually plays over and over when I think about my family (all the time).
I told my husband the other day that I’m going to start referring to my levels of depression in comparison to Crayola shades of blue.
Sky blue for when it sprinkles.
Cerulean for when it’s drizzling.
Today I would say my depression is between navy and midnight.
It’s a bit of a downpour, but not a flood.
When I get like this, I try to think of two positive things about myself and set an obtainable goal.
So here it goes.
1. I did a great job getting my kids ready and to school on my own this morning.
2. I remembered to shower last night. 😬
I’m going to legitimately smile at a stranger today. (It may sound easy, but it’s not).
Tell me two positive things about yourself, and an obtainable goal you can set for yourself over the next 24 hours. I want to know!
Tonight feels like a hot cocoa and Office marathon (probably falling asleep on the couch after an episode and a half, drooling on the cushion kind of marathon) kind of night.
Happy Friday Jr., friends!