I’ve been in an interesting mood recently. But let me back up. January, true to form, was the longest month ever and felt like it would never end. I was in a funk, work felt so overwhelming that I took up reading romantic fiction at night to get my brain fixed on something else and calm my anxiety. I did some events in January, I went to San Diego for work, but overall, I holed up in my house and hibernated. I was in a funk. I like to believe I am a person who can do hard things, and I know I can, and I know that I do, but my God do I hate it.

February was a welcome relief and started to break me out of my head space. Work calmed down a bit and I found a therapist to talk to. Most importantly, I had some creative releases that bubbled up and out and jarred me back to my excitement for life. I don’t think I realized how burned out I was from the constant change over the past two years, but it definitely hit a head in January.

I took a quick weekend trip over to D.C. at the end of February, and I have to be honest, it was exactly what I needed. I needed to be outside of routine. I needed to feel excited about a new city, I needed to see, taste, feel, and explore new things. I needed the push forward. And I needed someone with me to make me laugh. I needed contact and touch, and joy and freedom. I needed to surrender planning, control, and responsibility and to just be led for a weekend, to be surprised. It was surreal and great and wonderful.

And now it’s March. It’s still snowing here and there. It’s cold as hell and grey. It’s still winter and I’m over it. But I’m alive. I feel alive and excited. I feel like making plans and getting out. I feel happy about possibilities and looking forward to visitors.  I feel like planning my garden box, and buying a BBQ. I feel like making travel plans, and launching new adventures. I feel like being seen, being out and about and meeting new friends.

And it feels damn good.

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