In which I am like Super Grover 2.0

Today the tiredness is catching up to me. My kids have been watching Elena of Avalor for two hours and I am dipping some kind of incomprehensible fizzy carbonated water thing. I want to be eloquent, I want to be wise, to be dripping with insight and heart. But right now all I can really think to say is that I'm tired.

Sometimes when I feel like this I get scared that it's the depression sinking back in on me. That I don't want to do anything because of this illness that I can never seem to get out from under. And when I feel that way it makes me want to sink into the floor even more, to disappear.

But the important thing is to show up, to keep showing up, to not worry about whether it is any good or what anyone will think. To convince myself that my failure is not as inevitable as I have been telling myself it is. And to get it out of the way because until I do I'm going to be so busy not writing that I'm not going to do anything else.

So now that I've written I'm going to go clean up my house a little and then snuggle my kids and get on with my day. Because I'm not a failure. And I don't need to beat myself to the punch by giving up before I get a chance to be rejected. I just need to show up.