Route Recalculating

“Route recalculating. Please proceed to the highlighted route.” I don’t know how many times my GPS has told me that when I’ve missed an exit, gotten locked into a lane by traffic, or construction moves the exit/ road I’m searching for. This time, however, it was my own internal, mental GPS that continued off course, despite the pleadings to make a safe U-turn and proceed to the highlighted route.

I’ve been away from so much that I enjoy doing, and take solace from! Things that help clear my crazed, cluttered, confused, and weary mind. This journaling, blogging, creating, writing has just been pushed aside while I celebrated family, moved family in with me, had surgery, worked like crazy, and made so much other stuff, and many other people, priorities over myself. I don’t begrudge any of it, by the way, I just need to move myself up a little further on the list.

I need to find time (and energy) to step out and take a walk, or ride a bike. To do something to help bring my body back to where it should be. I know the benefits I’d gain physically, but I tend to discount the mental benefits as well.

I know I can’t get there from here. Time to listen to the GPS and get back on the right road.

No Photographs, Please!

Wow. There’s nothing like a new low. I live with it every day, facing it and actively ignoring it. that is until a pivotal moment that gobsmacked me. Going about my day-to-day existence knowing in the back of my head what’s coming. Today was that clarifying, or re-clarifying, moment.

I spent a week sitting on my butt in a hotel learning about writing, what I need to do to create the best manuscript I can, how to query and pitch it, and to never stop learning. Meeting some truly fabulous people in the industry from publishers, agents, editors, authors, and cover models. And I was going to set about snapping my picture throughout the events. That was until I looked at myself in the pictures.

I’m back to being the woman I once was, insecure, unhappy, and way too heavy. Time to figure out a new way to fix and find myself. I have absolutely no idea what the current number on the scale says; don’t really care right now, to be honest. It’s too much, by a lot… 70 pounds minimum, could even be close to topping out at 100 pounds of too damn much.

Eff me. How, or rather why do I do this to myself? I’m an embarrassment to myself, and I wouldn’t be surprised if my kids were not embarrassed by me as well. What a way to represent.

So, I need to drop as much weight as humanly possible before next Memorial Day, in time for my daughters graduation. Here I go again…

The Warrior

I have never been one to shy away from supporting the men and women who, not fearlessly, but bravely put their lives on the line every day for this great country. But with age comes wisdom and insight, and I no longer look at Memorial Day as “the end of the school year” and “the start of summer.” It is not a day only for hamburgers and hot dogs, or whatever you cook on the grill in celebration.

Memorial Day should always be remembered for exactly what it is, a day to pause and remember those who sacrificed so much, the very most that they could for us. It’s about the Warrior. For you. And for me. It is a day where we should gather and celebrate these lives which we never knew. And remember the families and friends that they left behind.

There is a line in the movie, a true story, Taking Chance, that honestly kinda drummed this in to me. Lt. Col. Michael Strobl wrote of his experience escorting Private First Class Chance Phelps, saying that “I thought that as long as he was still moving, he was still alive. But as they placed him over his grave, he had suddenly stopped moving.” To hear more of this quote, click here.

It really does not matter to me what country you are reading this in, we all have these heroes, and these days. Whether Remembrance Day, ANZAC Day, Volkstrauertag, it does not matter. We all should pause, and remember why we have what we have. This nation has shed blood all over the world, helping, protecting, guarding anyone who needed our help. Please, remember them this Memorial Day.

 

 

#ImNoAngel

I had a dream the other night, one that had the sleeping me feeling so light and joyous, so much so that after I woke and cleared the cobwebs from my brain, I was still feeling the lingering happiness from it. I remember smiling as I swung my legs out of bed, my feet hitting the floor before starting my morning. I don’t know if anyone else has ever experienced a dream as completely as I did that night? I can only hope that you have, or will.

What was the dream? (It’s going to sound very narcissistic, but I promise its not!) I was, in my dream, my minds eye, so happy and thrilled with the look, share, and contours of my body, but most especially my stomach. The dream me had a flatter stomach, shapely thighs, and a waist that curved the way it’s supposed to.

After my feet hit the floor, still riding on that sleep high, I walked into the bathroom and turned on the light, looking at myself critically. The difference was, this time I was more accepting of myself. Was this a result of the dream? Or was it a result of a challenge that a friend gives me every once in a while while we are at lunch, having me name one thing I love about myself that day? Or was it me finally listening to my own words that I share with others, trying to get them to change their way of thinking? I don’t know. Was I happy with my body when I looked in the mirror that morning? No, not 100%. I know I have room for improvement, but its nice to not be as repulsed as I once was. I am still a work in progress.

Then this morning, checking my email before crawling out of bed to start my day, there was an email from Lane Bryant with their new campaign, #ImNoAngel, designed to represent the beautiful, amazing, real, average woman whose size falls in the spectrum larger than a 10. The #ImNoAngel message was beautiful put:

Some say

That sexy is defined

In just one way

But I say

It’s how I feel

It’s who I am

I’m all woman

A symbol of confidence

Who writes her own rules

And sometimes breaks them too

I’m beautiful

From my soul out to my skin

Loving every part of me

No matter what I’m in

I’m a woman

Unique and complete

I break the mold

Throw out the old

I’m all kinds of sexy