I absolutely love endorphins. They give the most wonderful high. Ok-admittedly, it’s the only high I’ve ever known…so I don’t have a lot to compare to. Unless you count that time I accidentally got smashed on Ambien. ACCIDENTALLY!!
In all fairness, endorphins have never inspired me to do the following:
*create a new happy little (sex) jingle
*devise a new process for marking special occasions by gathering “keepsakes” from various locations-including the homes of friends, if the proper objectives were met
*create enough concern in my husband to research my condition on the internet, reporting back that I’d stumbled onto what others have already discovered as the latest, greatest fad in getting wasted
(FYI – if you don’t already know that story, chances are THAT status isn’t going to change anywhere in the near-or even very, VERY distant future. But enjoy the teaser.)
No-endorphins have not had an affect anywhere close to any of that, but they are still my high of choice. I’m also fairly certain that the introduction of endorphins early in my life, is what has kept me from becoming my mother. So I am forever indebted to my happy juice.
They just feel good. And it doesn’t go away when you’ve stopped doing whatever it is that generated them. Ride, run, play ball….they last me the rest of the night. Who doesn’t love THAT?!
So here’s what’s bothering me, even though I just got back from a pretty good run:
What does it say about my current mental state, when endorphins bring me only to “EH“?
It’s like I’m wasting them because of this stupid mental flatspin. Like that beer-spilling-wasting rule that boys have. Ok-clearly I’m neither an expert on beer rules or analogies tonight. I’m sure you can get there without me.
((sigh))
**Putting the happy mask back on.**
