Is That Legit What I Did?

Last night, I mean. Totally copping out on my daily writing assignment. I think it is. Some days, peeps, some days. You just don't feel like it!

I had a nice chat with two friends this weekend. Well, lots of nice chats. With lots of people. But these two chats were special. (It is sort of hard to take me seriously when I just used the word special, isn't it?)

But isn't it funny. I think it is funny. How one of those friends lifts you back up and puts your onto your feet. And then you turn around and pay it forward and find yourself repeating all the good advice and hope to the second friend. What a blessing friends are! That is how life should be.

Anyway, so here is my analogy. I feel like this, emotionally. It's about seven in the a.m., and I want to get up. But I can't. My lids feel heavy and my limbs feel sluggish and sticky, like molasses rolling slowly down a spoon. Everything is still and quiet. And I can't move. I just can't.

Everyday lately, I feel like I get up, and I lift my limbs from the bed and go running, or I read my scriptures, or I make some breakfast. I get on with my day. I try, I do. I go through motions. I never quite understood what that meant, going through those motions. But here is what it means to me.

It means a piece of me stayed behind. The part of me that emotionally copes stays tied to that bed. And that part does not get up. She does not stir or go anywhere. She lays there day after day and week after week. Until the months have piled up upon her. And everything gets heavier and heavier and she feels afraid and unable to move.

I do not know how to put her back together. I am afraid. I want her to come back to me. I want her to get up with me because I know what it is like when we are one. That is the girl who said I can back pack Europe. That is the girl who said I can move across the country without a job. Three times. That girl did a lot of things. She would. She is fearless and hopeful.

It is hard sometimes, just really hard. Especially hard to admit that you are broken. That you want that piece back, that piece of you that has been slowly worn down by time and circumstance until it has stayed behind because it is afraid. But I must. Oh how I must. Because friends, the show goes on. And I do not want to miss out anymore on that show.