I had, I think, the worst couple days of my professional career last week. Indirectly, I was told I'm a cog and that all of my kind are liars. And then, just to show me in my own heart exactly how much I am neither of those things, someone dear to me died. Add in some family stuff, and I'm ready to kick January out the door and tell it to never come back.
I don't believe in wallowing in the bad stuff--not for long, anyway. Whether you're winning or you're losing, it's only temporary. But, when you're getting punched every time you start to pull yourself up, it starts to feel like the universe is saying, "Stay down!"
With this next week only set to be a little better, as I was driving home Friday night I said aloud to the passing traffic, "I swear--I'll be ready to go another nine rounds Monday morning, but I just need the next few days. I just need this weekend to catch a breath."
I suppose there are still four hours to midnight, but I'll risk the jinx. Bargain kept, universe. Now off we go again.