It seems like my mood determines my life. Like it is something out of my control that pushes all the buttons. Like my moods are the man behind the curtain.
I do not believe that my moods are in charge. I believe I have the power to change them, to subdue them. Sometimes.
My moods are like an ever changing beast. A metamorph that can change into any shape at will. And can do so instantly.
And when there is a beast in your life your options are limited. Fight it. Find a middle ground. Be devoured. I vacillate among these three.
One of the ways this is evident in my life is in the way I dress.
When I am feeling strong I can fight. I am willing to spend extra energy to win the battle. I go the extra mile. I shower. I do my hair. And I pick clothes that make me feel like I can tackle the world. Usually it helps. Sometimes the beast and I both know I'm fooling myself and it's not long before I'm craving my pajama pants.
On those days when I'm willing to compromise with the beast, things are a little different. I don't shower, but I do brush my teeth. I don't curl my hair, but I do brush it. I don't dress up, but I do get dressed.
Then there are the devour days. The days when I'm just out of bed long enough to give someone a ride or go to the bathroom. No effort at hygiene. I don't change out of whatever I fell asleep in. And because I look so horrible, I avoid people as if I were contagious.
But a funny thing can happen on those devour days. There's power in staying in my pajamas or my worn out flannel shirt. The power that says the beast may be setting the agenda, but I still choose the wardrobe. And I choose to wrap myself in comfort. I choose clothes that serve as a hug for myself.
And that little bit of defiance keeps the beast from swallowing me. Until I can claw my way out of its gullet and back out into the sunshine.