It's Day Sixty Three.
I am still drowning. Drowning. Damn it.
I keep meaning to start over each morning, to live each day to the fullest and love to the mostest because I get the chance to. And instead, I just end up trying to breathe. Living fully and loving- fat chance. I am doing well to inhale and exhale. And sometimes, I actually forget to breathe. Catch myself gasping, because I literally forget to frikking breathe.
I try to count my blessings- I know I have a lot. Best friends, the monkeys, their best friends, mountain trails, autumn air, pumpkin smoothies, pug kisses. But this, this sadness- it is a strong tide pulling me down deeper.
I am fighting it, but pulling yourself out of drowning is hard work. Harder than real estate or insurance or digging fencepost holes or catering. I am exhausted- mentally and physically. I never knew that drowning in sadness could actually truly hurt. Note to self, sorrow aches. Like running or squats or burpees, but without a single calorie burned. Cruel joke.
That is all, buttercups. No big epiphanies. Except that sorrow sucks. And I know I am not alone, but it still sucks.