Somewhere over the past month I lost my focus. It's been a gradual progression but I could feel it happening almost in slow motion even though I was moving a mile a minute with the ACMs, the fight and my little jaunt to Meh-he-ko. It hit me tonight when I ordered pasta takeout. Pasta. I've never ordered pasta takeout. And to a diabetic pasta is like kryptonite. But it was more than the pasta. Last night I almost called Counselor. His old buddy who moved to LA is back in town and friended me on Facebook, said we should get together for a drink. It brought back a lot of memories of the three of us going out, like it was in the beginning. Got me thinking about Counselor again. I didn't call him but I was close. Closer than I've been in years. Part of me wants to do it just to get M out of my head. Like chewing gum so you don't smell like garlic you just ate; call Counselor so I don't taste the heartache over M. Ridiculous. I've been using that word a lot. It seems to sum up my emotional state lately. But it does feel good to actually feel something again. For so long I was shut down and cut off from feeling anything.
So I'm giving myself one more day to sulk in this Almost Blue cloud before I kick it into gear again. Start my morning workouts on Monday. Get my focus back. Find joy. I've felt it, albeit momentary, so I know it exists inside. It's a simple formula. ADMO. I've done it a thousand times. How hard can 1,001 be?
