Mary + Her Mental Health

Sorry, folks. No funny stories, no abysmal attempts at poetry. No photos, no wistful nostalgic drivel. Nuttin. Because ever since I got off that stinkin' plane from Christmas in California, the crazy carousel hasn't stopped. I've been crazy at work, and almost every night has been about this ridiculous experimental Greek play I'm in (greek chorus member) which I can't wait to blog about, but I don't have the time right now. On top of which, my crazy hacking cough is back and been the annoying houseguest that leaves the empty carton in the fridge, doesn't fill the ice trays and won't leave my chest. My eyes look like they're ready to split open, they're so bloodshot because the nights consist more of cough than sleep. Oh, good golly. That's a real sentence I just wrote. I actually wrote that.

Surprisingly, however, I've never been happier! Life is good, it's good to be busy, and I feel a strange sense of optimism and peace about life. I guess I've once again reached that part of the life-attitude cycle where even though nothing has substantively changed, I'm more than content with what I've got. And what I've got is good. Good gots.

In spite of all the activity going on in the outer world, my inner world has also found time to learn a few things; my heart's been contemplating some interesting stuff. Breakthroughs of a kind. Perhaps that's from whence the optimism derives. When you learn something new, doesn't it give you this feeling of energy? Like now this one thing seems to make more sense, and you're anxious to try out your new method of handling it, and when you see that it's working, and you're happier, it just makes you feel good, and it makes you want to keep going? Is this coherent to anyone?

I feel I'm on the verge of new things, new people, new experiences. And I'm so excited to see what happens. But right now, I'm going to try and sleep. I will practice my visualization exercises and convince myself that I really don't need to cough, that there's really nothing in my lungs that's irritating me. And then I'll cough anyway for a good three minutes, blow my nose, and start all over again. Much like the life-attitude cycle. Who knew you could make a metaphor out of mucus?