Every once in a while, and less and less often, I get into a funk of sorts. Not a good one like this, either:
It’s like I’m in a deep, deep, hole and can barely see the light of day beaming down through a pinhole at the top. I’m somewhere down there.
Then I envision myself scratching at the sides, piling the dirt beneath my feet. A little at a time I can build myself up until maybe, just maybe, I can climb out. When I get like that I feel like I need to kick ass and take names, but just whose ass and whose names I do not know.
So I kick my own. First I kick it for feeling this way and then I kick it into high gear. I run. I do pushups. I lift light weights. I ride my bike. I need to sweat. I need to punish something.
I want to write but I have no idea what. I’m blank. Yet I have a million thoughts in my head that won’t shut off.
I don’t want to cry. I don’t want to be down in the hole. I don’t want to take it out on someone else.
It’s time for one of our Little Talks.