I’m reading a great book right now called Spontaneous Happiness by Dr. Andrew Weil and last night I came to a passage about how creative-minded people often do the most self-reflection. This can be both good (leading to positive changes in oneself) and bad (leading to regret and bouts of depression).

Just a few hours before I read that section, I went on a walk and actually yelled at myself to stop looking at everything metaphorically. Every falling leaf is not a sign that I’m getting old, every flower blooming from a crack in the pavement is not me reaching beautiful heights despite broken beginnings. I think Dr. Weil has me nailed.

Honestly, if I were to really look inside myself I’d likely just see cell inflammation and I’ve yet to find a metaphor for that in nature. I think the only way I’ll really know what’s lurking under my skin is if I come across a puffy, bloated, dead fish.

The thing about the brain is that it never stops. You can not set it to pause or control its reactions. The brain has a mind of its own. Get it?

So, while the massive self-reflection I’ve done lately is leading to bettering myself, I’m kind of in this non-stop spiral of looking inward. I barely have a second to figure out how to improve upon a flaw, before I find something else to fix. Hello, chaos? It’s me, Momo. My hygienist is totally going to yell at me for all of this teeth-grinding.

What I want is immediate change so I can get to the next task. Find it, fix it, move on. This, to me, is the key to happiness, but of course it’s completely unrealistic. My expectations are set to freeway driving, while real life is in a school zone. I think I have metaphor problems, for real, you guys. *adds it to list of things to work on*

While this book has been incredibly beneficial to me, I think it should have been named Slow, Steady Happiness, because happiness doesn’t come with the snap of one’s fingers. We have to search, then focus on what brings us joy and work to maintain it. Unsolicited, permanent, giddiness is not a normal human condition. Apparently, hot flashes are, but that’s another blog post.

It’s hard to know this is going to be a long journey when I just want to get to the finish line, but at least I have well-fitting, comfortable shoes. I can’t stop. I just can’t. Before I can start, though, I have to wrap my mind around the long haul. I have to know that the first few miles are going to be painful, I will feel heavy and every step will be a struggle, but by the end I will be lighter and happier.

Then, and only then, will joy be spontaneous. It’s not going to happen without much toil and trouble, but I like to think you get more satisfaction when you’ve tried really hard.

On my next walk, I’m going to go ahead and think metaphorically. I choose to believe that someday my happiness will be evergreen.

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At the BlogHer ’14 Closing Party last Saturday night, I was in the front row when Rev Run from Run-D.M.C. took the stage. Sure, I’m white with size 11 feet which make it impossible to dance without tripping over myself and it’s true that the front row should have probably been reserved for attendees and not employees, but I also know that life is short and opportunities to be sweat upon by one of the pioneers of rap don’t happen very often. If at all.

I also laid down on the floor in the middle of the Expo Hall with a dog from Pets Add Life. You know why? Because pets add life. I don’t have a picture of the dog because two days later I had to FEVERISHLY delete pictures and video from my phone to make room for pictures and video of Justin Timberlake. As my friend Melisa says, “I see where your priorities are.”

Objects are closer than they appear.

So close, yet so far.

What?

In the last week, I sipped sangria under the setting sun and the Santa Cruz mountains, took a road-trip with my daughter, spent time with wonderful friends and inspirational writers, and took a beautiful walk with my son. I also drank a Sonic slush with Nerds in it. Hashtag, livin’ large.

I also had a pretty rough, emotional breakdown.

Yesterday my Zoloft was all, “I don’t THINK so” and I spent a good portion of the day crying and wishing I could crawl into bed and wake up to find all my problems solved. Luckily, I have children who kind of still need me to take them places, a puppy who is relentless about needing to pee, and work deadlines that kept me from lying in a horizontal position all day.

I also have a husband who, despite his own frustrations, called me and told me to meet him at the gym and a trainer who would not take no for an answer. Those two guys, and a whole lot of free-weights, pulled me from the depths. I showed up at the gym a swollen, red, splotch-faced mess, but I haven’t shed a tear since my first set of exercises last night.

There were times yesterday when I felt like I couldn’t put one foot in front of the other, but I did. Lunge-style. I can’t tell you how my mind and body are connected, but they most definitely are.

What I can tell you is that this living life to the fullest thing? It’s exhausting. I don’t know who would imagine that physically exhausting yourself MORE is the answer, but for me it is.

Now I know the next time I feel that down, all I need to do is get up. I’m not saying that it’s easy and I’m not saying this will work for you. But, me? I’ll take anything that lets me keep making memories. Me and my Adidas have things to do.

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I burst into tears at a birthday party last night.

Either this means I have to increase my Zoloft again, I’m really upset about my friend turning 40, or I am extremely worn out. I’m going to go with the latter, though I am almost 43 so I may be secretly bitter about my young friend.

My husband and I used to work with a guy whose accent made him say, ‘tired’ like ‘tarred’. Folks, I’m tarred. Really. It’s like I’m swimming in the hot, thick, black goo that we coat our driveway with. I’ve been out of town four weekends out of the last six, I just came out of the second busiest part of my work year and am heading like a speeding bullet into the busiest, and who can forget this?

There has been so much more going on that I won’t list here, but I literally don’t even know what day it is; I sent a company-wide email today declaring that it was Monday. For your information, and mine, it’s Tuesday. I think.

So, if you see me and I look like a zombie it’s because I am. Please be gentle with me, give me a pat on the back, tell me it will be okay, that I’m doing a good job in the midst of this chaos, and for CRYING OUT LOUD buy me a drink and send me to bed. I’m begging you.

Even if I can’t do it as cute as that puppy can.

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Well, I gave it a good run.

Okay, it was more of a short walk, but my legs are really tired and I’ve come to the realization that I need to climb back on my horse. My Zoloft horse.

Despite my best effort, the slow, dizzying withdrawal, and the long walks on the beach with my doctor – I can finally admit with certainty that I need anti-anxiety medication. It wasn’t the first time I started crying in the middle of the grocery store that I came to this conclusion, it was the second.

A doctor once told me that it’s okay to need medicine to deal with stress, because our environment evolved faster than our brains. We’re still functioning on serotonin levels from thousands of years ago; before jobs, traffic, and kids’ schedules for which you have to hang three different calendars on the wall. Remember when all you had to worry about was hunting and gathering? Life was so much simpler then.

So, it isn’t that I have one, big overwhelming THING, it’s many, small things that make me feel like my head is going to pop off. It’s shopping, cooking, cleaning, work, kids, WEEDS, traveling, insomnia and a pile of paperwork that won’t go away despite my wishes. It’s not having time to fill the car with gas before I drive my daughter across town, it’s finding a chance to help my son prepare for his talent show, and making sure everyone has clean underwear before we leave the house.

Plus, I’m heading into my busy work season. Oh, and did I mention that we’re getting a new puppy tomorrow?

Just one, not both. I’m crazy, not stupid.

It’s time for a refill, STAT.

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