When we got six tons of rock to put on the side yard, Jet started by helping out with the moving of the rocks into the swampy sideyard that no one could use because of the swamp. He then got tired, as seven-year-olds do, and he decided he was going to collect the coolest of the rocks. And he did great by occupying himself that way and got himself quite a collection. Including one that looked like a big chunk of chocolate chip cookie dough, but all the "chips" glittered. That's been his favorite.
I got to shovel part of the last ton and a half. It was actually pretty fun.
I've been depressed lately, just really out of it and grumpy about even existing. It's familiar. It tells me everything I do is stupid, flawed, and futile. I recognize the feeling and know it's not True, it's just a feeling and I can combat it.
So I slept really, really well and long last night.
Got up and the boys took me on a bike ride out to Target, and then through to a fireworks stand by the Buffalo Wild Wings. A thunderstorm blew in and thundered and lightninged, so we went into the Buffalo Wild Wings and found that today was the forty cent a wing special. So we got lunch while the storm blew through and we had our bikes in the shelter of the front lobby. Then John realized what time it was, and Jet wanted to stop by the fireworks stand for a few things.
So I rode home in a tearing hurry.
Now, I don't know exactly what possessed me, as I don't wear skirts very often, but I was wearing a skirt to bike today. It's one of those heavily pleated, knee-length denim skirts that's nearly a kilt and there's so much cloth it's not going to really show anything nearly no matter what blows which way. But riding a bike at speed in a wind storm and even I felt a little... amused. Risky? Not really. I mean, my bike shorts leave absolutely nothing to the imagination, and I get some good looks when I'm in those. And no matter which way the skirt blew, enough of it was under me that bike short levels weren't even going to get touched.
But it was kind of fun, and the ride, going a good clip for a good two miles, really occupied my whole head what with the skirt, the traffic, the wind, and the construction workers who appreciated the risk I was taking. *laughter*
And I realize, yup. I'm not depressed anymore.
I also made an effort to do some of the shoveling for part of those six tons of rock because I can do it, and because it was enjoyable to actually do something I could see getting completed. To finish something and know it was not only done, but done the way we really wanted it done. That helped, too.
My every other week massage didn't hurt, either, as my body now doesn't hurt quite as much from my stupid period. Yes, PMS triggers some of those feelings as well.
But also, studying my blow tests, I'm getting better. Every time I have three days in a row when I do 5-7 miles on the bike or swim or something, my breathing goes up a ten or two points in steady step increments. Every time I slack off, it drops off, though it also drops off when the pollens start to gang up and this week all three groups I'm badly allergic to are all hitting at once. So I'm doing pretty well, actually. The combination of the drugs and the exercise really helps. It doesn't hurt that I can now ride two miles at a near sprint and feel good when I get home in time to get to my massage appointment. Hee.
So it's good. I just have to really concentrate on what's good right now, or I slide back into the hole. Anime and manga and story help. It's interesting to realize that when I'm writing, really writing, it's a lot like when I'm reading, that I'm in another world... which can be good for breaking the "I hate me" loop, but bad for the "I hate reality" loop. I need to balance that with a good workout, even when I don't feel like working out.