Ain't nothin' gonna break my stride,

Nobody's gonna slow me down...Oh no, I've got to keep on mooovin'.

That's a great song, and an even better sentiment. One I've only begun to tap into now that I'm solidly in my 40's.

I grew up being a bit, let's say 'morose' to be kind to my younger self, and didn't really even see the glass much less be able to tell if it was half full or empty. I didn't spend a lot of time thinking 'happy' thoughts. My father was an alcoholic with pedophile tendencies, my mother tepid in her demonstrations of love, and my younger brother a complete pain in the (bleep). Your basic garden-variety late '70's family dysfunction.

In recent years, however, I've allowed my husband to rub off on me in some very good ways. (stop it... I'm not being dirty) He's a gem, and like I said in my last post usually a very positive person. When he gets down in the dumps, I feel my duty to be the lifter upper. Back in the day -- when we were just starting out together -- it was exclusively the province of my guy to lift me out of the dumpster emotionally. I feel the sting of those years -- all that hefting with very little reciprocal effort on my part -- and thus feel compelled to 'make up for it' in redoubled efforts now.

So, I've noticed -- and happily, so have close friends -- that the doldrums don't hold me under water quite so long as they used. That's the way with bullies: their power over you decreases in direct proportion to your increasing confidence in triumphing over them. And the moroseness or depression or the doldrums or the blues -- whatever you want to call it -- is one big, bad bully. But then, the ones generated from inside usually are.

Of course the way to invite a bully to another attempt at domination is to announce on the bullhorn that you've bested him.

In a sense, with winning the NaNoWriMo challenge, getting a much needed new car, finding out that the damage done to our bank account was only in the amount of three dollars -- (yes I went yesterday, found out it was an organized effort by someone(s) in Florida just systematically hitting a series of bin numbers) ** I had started to feel ... shall we say a little smug? Yeah, that's a good word. I was letting down my guard, opening my arms wide, picking up that bullhorn and shouting "Look at ME! I'm able to stay 'up' all by myself! The Bully has LOST!"

(**Okay, so I'm naive -- it was more like over $150.00...but still. It could have been worse. Way worse.)

Heheheh. Someone much more eloquent than I once wrote "Pride goes before a fall." Lucifer knows that one by heart... and so. do. I.

Oh, yeah, I'm a good one for getting lazy when I've hit a high spot. If anyone can coast on past accomplishments, I can. If anyone can diet to the right size and then think "My work here is done," as they rub their hands together in anticipation before diving into the bin of unlimited Oreos, I'm your gal. Matter of fact, I've done it every year for the past six. If there's EVER been a soul who thought, "I've achieved (__________) now I get to fall back and watch the motes floating lazily in the sunbeams," I am that soul.

But that's not the way it works, is it? Those of us who struggle -- be it with our weight, or depression, or addiction -- must always be vigilant. Always on the lookout for that little chink in the armor or crack in the fortified wall or hole in the dam.

As devotees of (insert your passion here) like to say, "It's not__________, it's a way of life," so too must the strugglers, the battle-scarred worriers, the bullied, the sullied, those pilloried by real or phobic or outright imagined fears.

For me, I think I can identify with all of those bondages in one way or another. And so... I soldier on, trying to remain vigilant, on the look-out for any sign of vulnerability...never really awake, and only occasionally very well rested. My armor is lightweight, though, and the weapons are deadly accurate, sharpened as much by intent as by daily use. When I do fall asleep on the job, the quicker I can wake and fight, the better the outcome.

Because I've been without the armor before. And it's a defeated end to a fight that is never really begun.