I want to run. I want to beat all my anxiety into the pavement to pounding rhythm of Florence and the Machine. I want to feel like my lungs and legs are on fire and push through to the next mile.
I have a million excuses for why I'm not doing just that. But when I'm being truly honest with myself, that's all they are: excuses. Yes, it's freaking cold outside. Wear a scarf. Yes, my foot still hurts. Be diligent about making it feel better. Yes, it's going to be a slow start because of the being currently taking up residence in my body. So get started.
The hormones in combination with no stopmybrainfromfreakingout pills and lack of exercise in general is taking its toll the past couple of weeks or so. My mood overall is pretty sucky. I'm not constantly grumpy, but my patience is close to non-existent, which is super handy when you have a 4 year old at home continually testing every single rule and boundary put in place.
I think this week might be tough for me in particular because I've hit a moment I knew would come; I have hit the feeling that this second kid was a really bad idea and I don't wanna do it anymore. I know everyone goes through this. I remember thinking this when I was pregnant with Alex. And I know deep down that this will pass and we will love this baby as much as we love Alex. But that knowledge is apparently enjoying a long nap in the basement of retrievable feelings because all I can summon up lately is guilt that I don't wanna.
Being a pregnant adult parent person sucks sometimes.
No comments:
Post a Comment