All Done

My Daughter has a new phrase that she uses with reckless abandon and it pretty much sums up my mood today. I made the horrible mistake of mowing my lawns yesterday and it caused a shower of allergy pain I haven't experienced in some time. My eyes have been stinging all day due to this encounter and the fact that my office building has the climate of the Sahara desert. Maybe that's why I feel the way I feel today. Could be? Then again it could be because I'm stuck in a job I have no passion for whatsoever, am dealing with an economy that won't allow me to leave it or find a job I actually want to do, a family that tries to break my will on a weekly basis (causing fiction in my marriage) and the fact that I have slew of good friends but 90 % of them (save one) seem to live at least an hour and a half away. Or, it could be that I've grown tired of being painted into a corner not of my making for the umpteenth time in the last 5 years.

I take some comfort that a lot of you are currently going through some type of similarly ridiculous pain and so at least we can all join hands and sing in the way of that ole Billy Joel spiritual: "And we will all go down together..."

I was consistently happy just a few short years ago and it was then I made the Lloyd Dobbler mistake: "I was walking around feeling satisfied."

Seems another lifetime ago now and I find myself saying the same few phrases:

I don't deserve this.

This is BS.

Will this ever end????

I know that crying to the gods means very little but venting is sometimes the only thing that makes me feel sane these days. A man can only take so much and I've taken more than that and a few more than I ever thought possible.

Now I'd just like to say what I hear from my sweet little girl everyday 100 times: I'm all done.

But I've got to go work out and lose the 60 pounds I've put on dealing with these very circumstances that make every step on the treadmill that much more painful. Every repetition with the weights that much harder. Every drop of sweat that much more difficult to conjure.

I'm all done folks.

But I go on.

I continue.

Because really, what choice does one really have?

I don't have it in mean to give up or quit.

So I fight.

I survive.

I live.

Knowing that being all done is not being complete.