Meh.
It's only 3 letters, and it seems such an insignificant word, but it carries such meaning. In order to fully understand its depth, it must be said aloud: "Meh."
But in cannot simply be said. It must be mumbled noncommittally without changes in vocal tone or pitch, and is most effective without enunciation and when accompanied with a slight one-shoulder shrug. When done correctly, it sounds less like a word and more like Cavemanese. Or a teenager.
Meh.
Sadly, it sort of explains me right now.
Want to exercise? Meh.
What do you think of the town you've lived in for almost a year & a half? Meh.
How's your social circle? Meh.
I was going to bed a few weeks ago and contemplating my state of being, and I coined a new phrase.
Meh-pression.
It perfectly encapsulates my current status. Not up, not down, not anything exciting...just meh.
Please note: I am not depressed. I am not listless, hopeless, overly sad, pessimistic or isolated. I do not stay in bed all day, avoid social functions (I look for them, actually) or wear the same clothes for days on end. I get up, chip away at my eternal to-do list, make yummy food, smile, laugh and even participate in the occasional Twister game with the kiddos.
But when someone asks how I am, the best and most honest answer is, "Fine." 'Cause that's about it. Not super bad, not super good, not super anything for that matter. I'm fine. And 'fine' is such a limp noodle. 'Fine' is...well, it's 'meh.'
All of this would be fine and dandy, but limp noodle just ain't me. I'm gregarious (I had to look that one up when it was used to describe me), I'm dynamic, I'm expressive, I'm chipper, I'm optimistic, I'm effervescent (had to look that one up, too), I'm fun and playful. ...at least I was. These are all words that fit me once upon a time. I want them to fit me again, and I know what to do in order to achieve that again.
But it's hard. And it's hard to find the drive when I've watched myself fall short time & time & time again. Remember my prayer jar? Yeah, that was a pretty good idea. I still have it, tucked in a box somewhere, about half full of fuzzies. It's hard when I try to be patient but end up hollering at a child who's in the other room absolutely completely 100% ig.nor.ing.me. when I call her 4.5yo name. It's hard when I try to focus on something that really needs my attention, only to have a zillion distractions. It's hard.
But mostly, it's hard to feel excited and motivated to get up & do something that I know will be an uphill battle when all I feel is...meh.
(PS--Don't worry too much about me. This post sounds way more pathetic than it should. Mostly I wanted to share my coined phrase and jot this lovely phase of life down in my online private public journal. I'll snap out of it, I'll turn myself around, I'll get a break, I'll find the energy and oomph I need to dig out of the muck I'm wallowing in. And I needed a time out so I won't lose it for the 1,758th time today because the kids STILL haven't completed what I asked them to do yesterday. Sometimes a Mommy time out is best for everyone. The vacuuming/kitchen/laundry can wait.)
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