Does it seem a bit neurotic to beat yourself up for "failure to love" because you didn't feel like petting the dog? Maybe its neurotic to even notice such a thing? Or to raise it to the level of blog-worthiness, even when the blog-worthy bar is super low? Bonus points if you can, at least, laugh at yourself.

This week I am noticing a phenomenon Brene Brown calls "foreboding joy." Foreboding joy is a defensive reflex. When moments of joy sneak up we shut them down with dark thoughts, superstitiously and because if we never let ourselves feel too happy maybe getting hurt won't feel too bad. I am beginning to understand this is how I've lived my life. Yesterday I noticed it happening, oh, about 1000 times. Which means my life is approximately 1000 times happier and more awesome than I allow myself to feel or experience. I live in a state of foreboding joy. Like, all the time.

For example, this morning. I am up between 4 and 6 almost everyday. Even though I don't have to get ready for my job because I can do most of my job in pjs. (Happy and awesome, right? Hells yes.) This morning I was sitting with my husband drinking coffee in the dark listening to crickets when I began to notice how totally awesome it was to be there doing that. Instantly, almost before I could fully register I was feeling great, a dark tide washed over me. The dark tide contains any random pain. For me its generally angst about mortality and the depth of time---because I'm so deep y'all. Happy feeling, dark tide to shut it down, next topic. Wash rinse repeat.

Somehow, as we quietly allow tiny shards of light through the gloomy curtain, it all becomes kind of funny. It is comical, how we create our own reality, how our thoughts are our lives, how simple it can sometimes be to change our mind.