Lethargy

I'm stricken with it.  I'm not sure what's wrong with me.  My sleep schedule is out of whack.  Severely.  That's the downside of not having a real job with real hours.  My inability to focus doesn't help, either.

All my life I've been very goal-oriented.  Extremely responsible and conscientious.  With self-discipline in spades.  How in the world would I have passed the CPA exam, otherwise?  Won the sixth grade spelling bee.  Started my own business.  Spent 20 years being a good employee with lots of responsibilities and a nice paycheck, all the while, being a mom to Kiddo.

I think the key was motivation.  Plus, I was too busy to question the direction of my life.  There's something about hitting your 40s that makes you step back and take stock.  Major transitions can really throw a monkey wrench in your best laid plans.  And boy, oh, boy, I've had lots of monkey wrenches to contend with over the last two years.  Divorce from my husband of 23 years.  Kiddo leaving home and moving 750 miles away to college.  My mother dying six weeks later.  Bringing my father home to live with me.  Six months later, buying a bigger house and moving all the detritus I'd accumulated from 20 years in one home, plus all the stuff from my mother and daddy's house.

Don't get me wrong.  I'm not feeling sorry for myself.  Au contraire.  I'm relieved to have had all this thrust on me.  Because it would've taken more courage than I could've mustered to make the changes I've had to make.  And as hard as it's been, I've learned so much about myself.  I've made plenty of mistakes along the way, but unfortunately, I'm a kinesthetic learner.  In other words, I have to learn by doing.  Call me headstrong (immature?), but all the lecturing or preaching in the world won't change my opinions.  When I do learn a lesson, though, I've got it.

Contrary to popular belief, the expression, That which does not kill us makes us stronger was not originated by Kelly Clarkson.  It's credited to Friedrich Nietzsche, the German philosopher.  He was a real Debbie Downer.  He's famous for saying God is dead.  He was the father of nihilism.  Which is the belief that life is without objective meaning or purpose and has no intrinsic value.  I have a feeling that if Freddie'd had a car back then, he'd have one of my favorite bumper stickers on it.  "Life's a bitch, and then you die."  Not that I feel that way very often.  Now and then, though, it sums up my attitude.

Ok, enough seriousness.  I'm going to get busy.  Since I was up half the night from a really scary panic attack (really crazy pains in my torso - bad enough for me to wake Kiddo and tell him I might need him to drive me to the ER), I have some major catching up to do.  I slept until 11:30 this morning.  Or was it 1:30 this afternoon?  I'm not sure.  I was in a fog.  Just now emerging from it.  But it feels like three in the afternoon instead of 9:30 p.m. 

On the bright side, Kiddo was sweet about my episode and he mowed the lawn today, without my having to ask him.  Asked me if I wanted something from Swanky's for dinner.

So I'm gonna start a load of clothes, heat up some soup, and watch my new favorite TV show, Scandal.  Maybe play a little Words with Friends.  I've been in a major slump with that.  Not that it means anything...