Confessions of a closet drama queen...

Have you ever noticed how the rough seas of life are often followed by the doldrums? That is where I have been, marooned by my own inertia, following a series of big blows that left me foundering and lost. For a while. And I felt like I had been run over by a steamroller for a while. Funny how depression can immobilize one, and the only way up and out of it is ACTION. I didn't go to the gym for almost two weeks. And then I got up and went, almost like someone had pushed a button, and it was miraculous how great I felt. Well, duh. Endorphins kicked in, yay. The regime is firmly in place again, gym 2-3 times a week, gardening when weather permits, lots of meetings to stay spiritually fit, time with friends who let me gripe, if that's what I need to do. Tonight is an abalone feed, and for those poor souls out there who have never had abalone, well, God didn't make anything this yummy under Her sun, not even lobster. I've already been to the gym, so I can chow down, too. Strange experience there today. I always keep an eye on the pool through the window as I do my little circuit around the major muscle group machines, and as soon as I got into my suit and all showered up, it filled to beyond capacity. I went into the hot tub, instead, thinking, oh well. Then a lane cleared, sort of. So I jumped in. It was a Biblical experience, painful and rewarding at the same time. I floated up and down the lane, pausing only ever so briefly to let this little round woman toodle by on her floaty tube that she rode like a hobby horse. I think my mother invented those. We had an old Navy flotation devise like a sausage, and she would ride it like that when cleaning the tile of our pool. Anyway, this was one of the most mystical swims I have ever experienced. The water felt so healing. I came away cleansed and strengthened. Not back to full capacity yet, but on my way. Oh, hell, I am always on my way.