Wednesday, May 22, 2013

A Case of the Blahs

One day I said to my husband, "I feel so blah." And he proceeded to tell me that was not a word.

Because I love to show how right I am, I quickly procured a dictionary to show him that "blah" is a real word (duh), and it is "Used to refer to something that is boring or without meaningful content; also depression."

Of course, in that instant my case of the "blahs" was cured, because being right makes me feel meaningful once again.

But truthfully, that's sad, isn't it? I hate that word. I use it, but I hate it.

At no time do I want to feel my life is boring or devoid of meaning. Because it's not. Really. As much as I'd like to have a boring day, it eludes me.

Also, how much more "meaningful" can your life get when you're raising little people who are learning to be humans?


Here's the thing. (I'm sure I'm the only one who struggles with this.)

Are they enough? Are your kids enough to get you out of the "blahs"? You're a mother, you're a doctor, you're an advocate for all things right and good. You're a gosh darn Superhero.

Is it enough? When you're having a moment and you wonder if your place in the world really matters, and you look at your job, or what you do on a daily basis, is it worth it? Are you fulfilled?

Believe it or not, your kids know. They can see when you're depressed. They know when they aren't enough for you. I know because I've seen the sadness in my kids eyes in that moment. It's heartbreaking.

So I'm going to say what I've said to myself on many a "blah" day:

Get of the damn couch, woman!
Stop Googling crap that doesn't matter!
Stop watching the news if it makes you feel that bad!
Eat a healthy lunch for once, you're too good for fast food! (Don't hate yourself that way!)
Get a hobby! You can do it! Oh, you have one? Then work on it! (i.e., knit, sew, write on this blog, do yoga, etc, blah blah blah)
Do something for someone! Stop feeling sorry for yourself! (At this time I usually send my husband a loving text, email a friend something encouraging, or take pictures of my kids and then show them how cute they are. They love that.)

Now it may seem like I yell at myself a lot... it's not a lot, but yes, it does happen. Because it's not fair for me to demand my kids be my all. They are not in my life to fulfill me, or put me in a better mood, or make me feel like my life matters.

That's up to me. That's MY job. I control myself, my attitude, my behavior, and I solve my problems. My kids deserve a mom who takes care of herself, both mentally and physically. They don't deserve a mom who takes her unhealthy habits out on them.

Now go and be Super.