It's Late

It's 2:45 in the morning and I'm wide awake. I was sleeping so good. Then one of my cats decided to wake me up. I tried to run her off, but she was relentless. Finally I got up, caught her, and put her in the garage. But it's too late--I've been wide awake ever since; almost an hour and a half now. 

Now would be the perfect time to write an entry. Problem is, I just have nothing to say. 

I am not sad. I'm not depressed. I'm not particularly "in" to anything right now, and I don't seem to be the least bit interested in what anyone around me, aside from my kids, is doing. That's funny, because in years past my life and my world revolved around the actions and the behaviors of others. That's not the case anymore, and I can truly say that and mean it. My monthly sessions with my therapist Kate have been more like friendly visits. A minor adjustment here or there if I need it, but things are just different. 

While I am I am glad I am not sitting around obsessing about what other people are doing, I need to find something that interests me. Something I can do for myself that I enjoy. Something productive. I wish I could be like a few people I know, and live to exercise and work out--or yoga or Pilates. That's just not me. 

I'll find my place in a minute, I guess. 

Sure wish I could go back to sleep.