A Bit Wobbly

It, meaning life and/or me, is, in a word, twurvy. [If Sarah Palin can make up words, so can I]...


One moment life feels light and fluffy, then it switches to dark and dense, moving on to exciting and creative, then dull and boring, then tender and sweet, then dull and...you get it.


Most of the time, these mood fluctuations are happening quietly between my ears, or so I like to think. My family would disagree. They gently point out that I wear everything on my sleeve, or taped to my forehead. I'm not always sure what's leaking out. 


Maybe it's a January thing, but I'm feeling deeply connected to the Weather Channel these days; so many highs and lows, swirling systems off the coast, flash floods, droughts, raging wild fires?


A fleeting thought came to me while shoveling the front walk that some readers who follow This Being Alive may have concerns about my mental health; how come she posts some lovely thoughts about flowing like a river on Monday and the next day she's up in arms about testicles hanging off the back of a pick-up truck, then there's a charming piece about her aging father, while on Thursday she's writing, (yet again) about finding her life purpose, and come Friday, there's a sweet photo of her new dog playing in the snow with a Buddhist quote captioned below. 


What do you think, Marge? Does she strike you as a bit wobbly? 


Of course, it's likely nobody's thinking anything of the sort. Or maybe you completely relate to the mood swing thing. That's the hoot about being human. We make stuff up about what we think is happening, or what other people might be thinking, while 99% of it is false. Meaning: it's all in our head.


We're all a bit wobbly; some more than others. 


May I see a show of  hands, please?