There is a good kind of not wanting to get out of bed in the morning, when you just want to savor the delightful last drops of relaxed sleepiness and the smooth warmth of the sheets against your skin. You might still be drowsy but you feel good because you know you’re rested and energy is a delicious cup of coffee away, if it isn’t already there.
If I’m going to be real, I have to tell you I didn’t want to get out of bed this morning and it wasn’t the good kind of not wanting to get out of bed. Instead, my head ached and I was too distracted by distress to notice any coziness. I felt heavy, defeated, depressed. Maybe I have good reason to feel this way. I am overwhelmed. Two images are tatooed on my brain lately. One is the receipt I got from the teller at the credit union the last time I made a withdrawal from my rapidly diminishing savings account. The other is a notice the department of social services sent me earlier this week informing me that my monthly gross income is a hair too high for me to receive food stamps. A hair.
It will be over a month before I get my first paycheck of the school year, but between then and now there are plenty of expenses. Of course, I have to figure out how I will earn more money. Lord knows, I’ve considered so many options. Over the past four years, in an effort to get a side business started I have taken courses in life coaching, copy editing, grant proposal writing and even the study of wine. I spent nine months and hundreds of dollars hoping to get somewhere with network marketing. When I think I’m really and truly a writer, I birth a blog then end up abandoning my baby in cyberspace. I’ve done this a few times. (Will I again?) Lately I’ve been looking into teaching English online, but I’m not sure it’s for me. It seems I’m fired up for an idea one day, then the next I wonder why I even thought it would work. I’ve played this game with myself for so long that I don’t trust myself anymore. My heart knows I am equipped with at least the basic intelligence to succeed, but my head is confounded by those what-makes-you-think-you-can kind of thoughts. Then I think of the bottom line on that teller’s receipt again, my stomach sinks…and I wonder why I should even try.
Today, to get out of bed, I had to rely on my strengths even though I don’t feel strong. I know because I just know that feelings can break you if you keep giving in to them. I also know that a day is enough of a chunk of time to make progress. I was not psyched to actually write out my plan for the day, but I did anyway. My aim is to stick to the list. All day. So far, I’m on track. I wish I could report that I feel great now but I don’t so I can’t. My stomach is unsettled with the kind of queasiness you get when you know there are still unpleasant tasks left to tackle, like visits to the credit union and divorce lawyer. I know that I need to build a foundation of trust in myself and this is the way to do it. One thing at a time, one day at a time, over and over.