the big toe of mood stability

I'm a little embarrassed to say that I am in a totally different mood now. If I felt bored before, it should have lasted longer, don't you think? Isn't that the whole idea of boredom, that time seems to crawl? Did it feel interminable? It turns out it wasn't -- but when will it strike again?

I am acutely aware of my moods these days, much more so than when life is popping along at a good clip. It is interesting to see how they change. I have always tended to be Steady Freddy with moods. Now I feel like Mercurial Muriel.

I considered going with "Moody Trudy," but that's not quite right. I think of "moody" as being irritable, edgy, something with prickers. I'm pretty sure I'm not moody. My "felt experience" range currently includes: blah-discouraged, blah-bored, blah-worried, blah-fascinated, theoretically (blah) grateful, genuinely grateful, blah-peaceful, and pretty peaceful. All relatively quiet stuff; no prickers.

Today I am feeling pretty peaceful and genuinely grateful to boot. I am glad to have no clients today. I look forward to reading, writing a couple of letters, going out for dinner (too bad it has to involve food) with a friend of ours. I want the day to last long. When my mood is peaceful, I can embrace the James Taylor sentiment that: "the secret of life is enjoying the passage of time." Right now I am there.

This is bone pain week, with only 4 clients scheduled. My perspective flip-flops, of course, on how this is going. Part of me misses having a busier practice, as the alternate weeks where I see ten or twelve clients are more interesting, more energizing, more uplifting -- even if I am spending more energy at the same time and I'm tired by the end of the day. I wince at seeing calls come in, knowing prospective clients are hearing my voicemail message that I'm not accepting new clients for the time being, and then having them disappear and go elsewhere.

And yet I know I couldn't carry much more of a load. I actually got winded blowing my nose this morning. This made me feel blah-fascinated. After catching my breath from the nose-blowing, I got the recycling bin from the curbside, then had to sit at the kitchen table until the spinning stars faded from view. That bout of light-headedness tipped some mood balance, and I felt blah-discouraged.

It must be that when you have more energy there are ways of shifting your mood, little things we do to keep our balance. Going out to get the recycling bin makes you forget what you might have been ruminating about, because you wave to the person parked at the light, then pick up some sticks on the way back to the garage, maybe replace a chunk of turf that the plow shaved off the lawn. You're not just focusing on making it back to the kitchen table.

The little things we do to adjust our moods must be like the big toe. You don't realize how much you rely on your big toe for balance until it's gone, and it becomes clear that it had been constantly shifting, loosening, tightening, gripping, helping you stay upright. Lest you worry: this is what I hear about the big toe. I may be losing my nails, but I should not lose my big toe. For this wonderful but also theoretical "what-if-I-lost-my-toe" type of blessing, right now, I confess I am somewhere between theoretically and genuinely grateful.

But here is the upbeat upshot: though he/she poops out more quickly than when I am well, today I can see that Steady Freddy, my temperament's big toe, is still taking care of me, still working to keep me upright. For this I am definitely, right now, for the moment, genuinely grateful.

I had better end here, though, before Muriel steps on Fred.