F**K you, forty-one.
Whew...I'm glad I got that off my chest. Though my forty-second birthday is still three months away, I've decided I have to put forty-one behind me. The year started with my fourth miscarriage and that wasn't even the toughest thing I had to deal with over the past nine months. There's been so much personal upheaval: forty-one brought betrayals, illness, depression, multiple failures and my return to an evil day job. It was time to face the fact that my writing career has gone nowhere, at least not in terms of monetary success. In October of 2014 I put on my big-girl pants and re-entered the workforce for the sake of my family's financial stability.
Yeah, forty-one has sucked. Big time. All these challenges have led to some pretty unhealthy behavior and depression looms large on the horizon. That stops today.
In high school I read an article by an artist who began her career by using drawing to battle depression. Every day she would get up and draw a self-portrait of herself. In the first one she looked haggard, exhausted and miserable. But she vowed to keep doing one self-portrait a day until she "drew herself happy." She finally achieved her goal several months later, but kept doing the portraits anyway. What an amazing way to pull oneself out of the depths of despair.
While it's true I do possess the ability to draw portraits, writing has always been my first love. I decided today to write myself happy. I will write one good thing about myself today and everyday.
Here's my pat on the back for 5/12/2015: I did yoga this morning even though I really didn't feel like doing it. Way to go, Cindy!
What tomorrow will bring--or even an hour from now--I don't know, but I'm going to do my best to be here NOW and the rest will work itself out. I have to believe that.