The last couple of weeks I have been feeling a little down. Nothing to worry about, and certainly nothing that rivaled the post partum I had a few years ago with my daughter. But I was still in a funk. I wanted to sleep a lot. I felt lazy. And if you know me, you know lazy is not a part of my lexicon. So, bottom line, I was not myself.
Cleaning has even become a chore for me. Yes, I know that is how most other people view it all the time. But, I love cleaning, in that way that it helps me unwind, disconnect, and ironically cleanse. I cannot really explain it, and I know how weird I sound. So, feeling like I had to do my weekly chores as opposed to something I normally feel good about, sent up a few red flags.
I began wondering if I am depressed. I kind of pushed the idea towards the back of my mind because we had a pretty busy weekend and I just did not have the time or energy to deal with it. Again, what? Me, not have the energy? This NEVER happens.
Yesterday I had to take my car in to get serviced, fixed, spayed (do they do that to cars?) etc. I spent a large part of my day at the dealership, pretty much doing nothing but sipping specialty coffee, eating gourmet donuts, and reading an amazing book.
Last night I was very sleepy, exhausted even. But this morning I woke up rejuvenated, happy, bouncy, and (insert bubbly adjective here). Holly smokes! I wasn’t depressed. I was exhausted. I had burnt the candle on both ends (whatever that means) for too long, and all I needed was a day to unwind. Lounging around doing nothing was exactly what my brain and body needed.
Who knew taking the car in would be so therapeutic. My battery needs to die more often. Just kidding. Sort of.