This week I felt miserable, discouraged, drained, and I grappled with intense fatigue. I suffered from the walking dead syndrome, dragging myself from task to task, and watching my productivity plummet. My self-diagnosis is an acute case of the blahs. We all experience bouts of blahdom, and while it is “normal,” it is never easy to manage. Sigh.

My tried-and-true coping mechanisms are impossible or impractical because of COVID, and my home remodel. The gym, my favorite coffee shop, and inside group dinners are no-go zones. Zoom meetings with friends are ineffective. We outlawed hugs. Movers buried my art supplies in storage boxes along with my crochet projects. But we always have more options than we realize. We just need to dig deeper.

I rediscovered my joy of driving. Make-up is optional. Pajamas and slippers are acceptable attire and the roads are less crowded. Even though my car’s thermometer reads a hot 92 degrees, I roll down the windows, blast my music, and blow away the cobwebs.

Then there is my writing. There no better feeling than seeing a few hundred words appear on the screen. This year I have struggled to write and forced myself to compose daily regardless of the outcome or my dismal word count. Yesterday my friend arrived tired, sad, and contrite, but ready and willing to help.

Does writing improve your mood?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer