Crappy New Year!
You read the title correctly. On the day filled with salutations of "Happy New Year," I was in a crappy mood, spreading my bitchiness like smooth peanut butter on soft white bread.
Way to go, Annmarie.
It all started with a morning walk with John, a normal day off or weekend occurrence. My feet hurt only a few steps into the stroll (because I couldn't move any faster), and I knew I would pay later. Really? At 46, I had to worry that a walk would result in swelling and joint pain?
Let the foul mood dance begin. Why not invite the pity party to come out to play?
I am in this aggravating cycle of needing to lose weight, the weight put on since my feet decided not to cooperate with the activities I like to do to stay in some semblance of a shape, although my former doctor blames the arthritis on the weight gain. Trying to explain to him that I gained the weight after my diagnosis of arthritis in the joints on the tops of my feet was the most maddening one-way conversation of my life. Well, a close second or third.
John and I were butting heads on every little thing all day, but not in an upfront, let's call it what it is way. When I'm feeling down, I much prefer the passive aggressive approach. It's much more productive and conducive to getting things solved <insert eye roll here>. It was a day of things going wrong, misunderstandings, and hurt feelings.
And, I was the hostess of this shin dig.
As I reflected on the day yesterday, I knew I needed to write about it but wasn't mentally or emotionally prepared. I was still raw, in tears, and fighting even more physical pain after a second walk that morning, one where I pushed speed and distance limits just to prove I could. I had quite a few realizations over these past two days, but the most important one is that I cannot let one bad day, or even two consecutive bad days, define my year.
Now I'm ready for a happy 2016. I just have to be gracious enough to invite happiness in.
Way to go, Annmarie.
It all started with a morning walk with John, a normal day off or weekend occurrence. My feet hurt only a few steps into the stroll (because I couldn't move any faster), and I knew I would pay later. Really? At 46, I had to worry that a walk would result in swelling and joint pain?
Let the foul mood dance begin. Why not invite the pity party to come out to play?
I am in this aggravating cycle of needing to lose weight, the weight put on since my feet decided not to cooperate with the activities I like to do to stay in some semblance of a shape, although my former doctor blames the arthritis on the weight gain. Trying to explain to him that I gained the weight after my diagnosis of arthritis in the joints on the tops of my feet was the most maddening one-way conversation of my life. Well, a close second or third.
John and I were butting heads on every little thing all day, but not in an upfront, let's call it what it is way. When I'm feeling down, I much prefer the passive aggressive approach. It's much more productive and conducive to getting things solved <insert eye roll here>. It was a day of things going wrong, misunderstandings, and hurt feelings.
And, I was the hostess of this shin dig.
As I reflected on the day yesterday, I knew I needed to write about it but wasn't mentally or emotionally prepared. I was still raw, in tears, and fighting even more physical pain after a second walk that morning, one where I pushed speed and distance limits just to prove I could. I had quite a few realizations over these past two days, but the most important one is that I cannot let one bad day, or even two consecutive bad days, define my year.
Now I'm ready for a happy 2016. I just have to be gracious enough to invite happiness in.
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