I am in a funk. Not the Marky Mark Good Vibrations version that can be fixed with an emmy award winning choreographed dance number sung by teenagers about to enter regionals. A real funk.
Filled with an even and overflowing mix of tears and anger, iced with the occassional foul language threaded temper tantrum.
Fortunately, all of the above are playing out in the privacy of my head and not in the real world.
Other than my poor mood and bitter side comments, I have tried to keep my mini meltdown from the world.
Unfortunately, my egg shell is cracking. At least at home.
The good new is, it is a documented law of nature that when either Gina or I tip the emotional scale to either elation or depression, the other is firmly rocketed to the opposing side. So, I can only imagine, and am very thankful that Gina is having an extraordinary vacation where she is feeling waif like and getting a great tan.
I don't know how to snap out of this. But I do promise no more posting from me until I have found my way back to happy.
1 comments:
Sads face. Funks suck. No matter how good the choreographed dance with accompanying awesome song lyrics sung by cute boys shaking their asses in my face, funks suck. Here's to shoe therapy, chocolate therapy, wine therapy or whatever your chosen method of pulling yourself out of a funk is. I hope you find your happy face again soon!
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