There are some numbers that have been chasing each other around in my head the last few days. I have been sick with what I thought was strep (the nurse practioner at a local urgent care deemed it an upper respiratory infection), so perhaps the physical drama wore me down enough to give room for the emotional drama. I am in a funky place of being somewhat depressed and not being able to solve it with a run or a good book.
38- days until my husband will be home again
19- weeks since he has been gone
363- days since the ultrasound revealing my baby had died
13- weeks pregnant when we lost our baby Nora
12- hours until my sister gets on a plane for Africa for two years
141.5- the number on the scale today (the highest it has ever been)
124- the number on the scale at this time last year
3- the amount of miles I can run without stopping
6- the amount of miles I should be able to run without stopping as per my training schedule
16- hours I slept yesterday when feeling so sick
3:30- the time I fell asleep this morning
Most of the numbers listed above are fairly depressing. I have had some sad things on my heart lately, and it can be hard to shake them off. I am really dreading the one year anniversary of my miscarriage. I am still journeying towards acceptance and peace, knowing that I will get there someday. And having my sweet husband far away makes the anniversary of losing our sweet baby much sharper. My husband is such a comfort to me, always leading me to the LORD and reminding me of His promises. I will always miss my baby, but I am so aware that she is in heaven already and that God has a plan for my life that will bring Him glory. Lee and I will have babies someday, somehow. I just miss the baby that I never got to hold.
It's funny how the number on the scale pops out like a sumo wrestler to throw down. The number is a number, not my identity or my self worth. Yet I let it drag my mood to a gross place, a place of self-loathing and despair. I am working out six days a week and eating (mostly) right. And I need to continue to do those same things. No crazy dieting, no toxic pills. I know what it means to be healthy, and that should be my goal. Weight-loss and fitness are not quickly achieved.
My sister's departure came sooner than anticipated. I can't believe it's already time for her to go. I am so proud of her. I am somewhat jealous of the adventures to come. I have loved having her as my roommate the last nineteen weeks and am going to miss her severely.
Do you ever get in a funk? How do you deal when your "funk" is not just a bad or lethargic mood, but actually based on real, sad events in your life?