I've been in a funk for the last few days. Too much time inside and not enough opportunities to exercise made me into a resentful, passive-aggressive shrew. The feelings of resentment and frustration weighed heavier and heavier until I could hardly move, my hopelessness like the lead apron worn during X-rays at the dentist.
This is why I have to exercise. The treadmill is the only thing that keeps me from Zoloft. I am not negating the healing power of antidepressants---they help people with real, chemical imbalances. I am saying that exercise balances out my chemicals without the monthly co-pay and possible side effects.
Today I wore my new running skirt and did an easy three miles. God, it felt good. With each step, I shed the anger like a snake shedding its skin.
It's easy be angry with Paul because he doesn't have breasts, but the fact of the matter is, he's a great father, and does all he can with Joel.
It's easy to be angry with Owen because he acts out, but the fact of the matter is, he loves me so much that he'll take all the attention he can get.
It's easy to be angry with circumstances because being a stay-at-home mother can be so isolating and hard, but the fact of the matter is, this time is so fleeting and I will someday ache to hold my babies again.
The fact of the matter is, my children need me to exercise. I need to exercise. All it takes is thirty minutes, and I become myself again. Minus the lead apron.