Swift kick in the ....

I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. I woke up in the wrong bed altogether... Casey's. She was up at 6:15 and I was dead tired and just crawled into her tiny little twin bed and we fell back asleep for a little while. I am depressed. Actually, I've been depressed for days now and can't pinpoint it. Isn't that the worst? When you don't know exactly what is bringing you down? I mean, if I knew what was making me unhappy, I'd be able to work on it, listen to a sappy song about it, deal with it or at least understand it. My knee jerk reaction is to blame the boobs. Angry at something? Must be because I had a mastectomy. Sad? mastectomy. Mopey? Yep, mastectomy. I'm pretty sure that's not it entirely, but maybe just a little, like an overshadowing sad, not overwhelming and in your face.

I came down this morning and cleaned the kitchen, before I even had any coffee. Of course the dishes from last night were in front of the coffee maker, so I'm sure that had something to do with it. I literally can't stand a messy house. My house is far from perfect, but if there's not some semblance of order, I can't continue with anything else. Anyway, I proceeded to put my running clothes on, only to stop at the back door, in tears, deciding I can't do this. I decided instead to take a shower and attempt a do-over at my already crappy day. I was intending for the soap and water to wash off the ugly attitude. It worked for the most part. Since it was FINALLY a nice day, Casey and I walked down to the park which was lovely. Just what she and I both needed.

I'm mad I didn't run and still have plans of running tomorrow. I knew this would happen. That it would become close to surgery date and I'd give up again, knowing I'm going to be starting all over again. I'm so glad I decided on the 10 mile run last week, otherwise I'm confident my running would have already stopped. I'm hoping for the strength to continue through next weekend, even if it's only a few miles. I don't want to deal with this all again. Surgery is in 1 week, 3 days. Kind of feeling numb about it but sadly looking forward to percocet induced sleep.

I'm 1 pound away from my goal weight, so I'll take it. Let's just hope I don't fuck it up in the next week. If today is any indication, I'm in for an uphill battle. Oh well. Corey and the kids plus one neighbor went out for ice cream and I'm enjoying a little solitude. I threatened to make him take them out to dinner too :)