Numbers

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.

Numbers:

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?