One of the more challenging things I’ve dealt with since losing my daughter has been maintaining motivation. Motivation to get up in the morning, to be productive, to be worthy of the love and dedication my husband gives to me every single day. It’s a continual struggle that requires constant vigilance. I have to be hard on myself a lot – one bad day can spiral into a bad week or two, and then getting back to my feet is even harder than it was before. And every time the exhaustion and lack of will are compounded.
A couple of weeks ago, I fell into another slow, depression addled slump. I explained it away, rationalizing that I just needed a few days and then I’d be okay again. My energy would come back, the headaches would stop. But none of that happened, and I finally decided that I can’t be like that anymore.
Every morning now, I write on a new notebook page: WHAT DO I WANT? And then I fill the page with things that I want – big dreams, long-term goals and little, largely unimportant things. These are my motivation, I tell myself every morning. These are my reason to keep breathing.
What do you want?