I generally don't have time to let my feelings get hurt. I'm more concerned with making it through another crazy day, week, month in my very blessed life.
The past few days, though, I can't seem to shake a few recent events that made me feel insignificant.
I guess individual slights can be ignored, but when they stack up like soup cans on a grocery store end cap, they tend to grab my attention.
I'm now filled with self-doubt. Makes me wonder if... well, I won't go into detail.
I achieved two important milestones yesterday that I hoped would pull me out of the mire of possible self-pity: I finished the final chapter of the novel I'm writing (still much, much more editing to do) and I ran for 11 minutes on the treadmill at the Y. (I've been working hard on that one.)
Yet the murky depths of despair still yank at my legs.
This is when you yell, "Kick, Kate! Kick!" And I will kick hard (with my newly stronger legs-hee hee) and rescue myself from sadness.