I’ve been in a funk for two weeks now, and it feels dangerously close to depression. I’m losing interest in a number of things, my appetite is changing and my mood is significantly more sensitive than it should be. My sleeping patterns would probably take a turn for the worse, but thankfully, Shannon won’t let it.
I’ve tried just “riding” it out. I learned In grief therapy that sometimes I just need to listen to what my body says and let it rest. I’ve listened for two weeks, recognized that I miss my parents and my friends, and that outside of Shannon, nothing feels “right” anymore. I’m overwhelmed by it all.
I’m done with that. I’m working on a schedule, busting out my old copy of Getting Things Done by Paul Allen and setting up goals (and to do lists).
The most ambitious of these goals is working out in the morning. I wake up by 645 every day, regardless of when I go to bed. The past week i’ve fiddled with the Internet connection for at least twenty minutes. I am going to start doing something more productive than restarting a modem, a router and swearing.
I’m getting a head start on the new year. 2008 has been brilliant. 2009 is going to start rough, but it had the potential to be even better. I’ve got far too much at stake, and to do, to let it slip through my fingers.