Being a Grown Up

As I felt my clothing get tighter and tighter, and watched the scale nudge higher and higher, anxiety started to creep in.

I blamed the stress in my life, which admittedly is pretty considerable.  I searched desperately for some sort of motivation to get me back on track.  What do I care about enough to make it a goal for healthy living?

Let's face it, when my choices are "drown the bad feelings in cheesecake and take a nap" or "eat the nice salad and go take a walk in the sunshine and meditate on the fact that you are making healthy choices" cheesecake and napping will win, hands down, every time.

Then I concluded that everything I had been blaming for my weight gain actually wasn't responsible.  The stress did not force feed me cookies.  The anxiety did not pour more wine.  The responsibility was all on me.

Then I concluded that there is nothing I care about enough to make it a goal... I don't care enough about climbing Mt. Humphreys, staying out of a wheelchair when I'm old, or looking hot.  My immediate personal goal has nothing whatsoever to do with anything physical, and all my energy is focused on that.

So, as a friend pointed out, sometimes, you just have to chug away.  It is a duty. It is the right thing to do.  Chug Chug Chug

In other words, be a grown up about it.  Do what needs to be done because it needs to be done.  It isn't fun, new or exciting.  There is no immediate gratification.

I was given this one body.  Scripture tells me I was bought for a price, and so am to glorify God in my body.  It isn't my toy, to discard or abuse as I feel on any given day. 

So, whether I am glorying in everything my body can do (like, dance, pick up heavy stuff, cuddle) or exasperated at its needs (healthy food, enough movement, sunscreen) it isn't about my FEELINGS.

It is about being a grown up about it.

Little Holy Places

I took a road trip this weekend to Tubac, AZ.  It is about 25 miles north of the Mexican border, and one of the prettiest places in the world.

I was visiting a dear friend and giving my brain a break from all its incessant worrying.

The church in Tubac is tiny, fitting maybe 100 people if everyone squished in and it isn't so hot you mind a bit of cuddling.  The benches are the old style must-be-5-feet-tall-or-shorter-to-ride kind. 

You can feel the Holy Spirit just glowing through.

My God Is So Big moments came during the night, staring up at a sky so dark you can see every star God made.

By complete surprise, we ran into Irene right before lunch on Saturday -one of the women who walked the Camino de Santiago when I did, only taking the Northern route. Small world!  The three of us recounting our experiences and what we learned, and reminding each other that the Camino continues at home made that deli another holy place.

I forget so easily.  I had forgotten that God just wants to be with me, that I am His beloved daughter, that none of my burdens are mine alone to carry.

I had also forgotten my own responsibility for honoring my own needs, remembering that I count, too.  I had been busy blaming the stress in my life for my weight gain, for example, rather than admitting my own responsibility... my boss certainly isn't making me eat junk food or telling me to stop exercising.

The little holy places felt like a retreat from normal life.  Sometimes it does help to leave the dishes undone and the laundry in the basket and go someplace lovely to just be.

The little holy places remind you of the things you've always known.

Be The Cool Person

It is no secret (mostly because I talk about it a lot) that my childhood had a fair number of challenges.  Every kid handles it differently.  I internalized a lot of it and felt worthless, etc., for a very long time.

One time -I forget if it was in college or my last year of high school, a few of us were talking about our career aspirations.  I was constantly changing my mind about life at that point and it seemed like everyone around me had their paths all planned out.

I said, "I think it would be so cool to be journalist*.  You'd get to meet all these cool people!"

and my brother, Robert, said, "Why don't you just BE one of the cool people and do something awesome with your life?"

(As you can see, he has always been the bigger thinker and dreamer.  When I was 4 and playing with my imaginary horse in the back yard and calculating the cost of hay, he (age 6) was building a space ship in my "meadow" and felt genuinely let down when he couldn't get it to launch.)

So, I scowled at him, but he did get me to think.  I was a bit surprised at the thought that, I, weird and awkward and bookish, with no social sense and horrid hair, could be one of the cool people and have an interesting life.  I was Luna Lovegood before she was born. 

Frankly, I think Luna Lovegood steals the Harry Potter show.

So, a lot of my life has been the ongoing realization that, Hey! I can do that!! after spending too much time thinking stuff was out of my realm of possibility.

Hey! I can have an opinion!
Hey! I can support myself!
Hey! I can go to law school!
Hey! I can buy a car on my own!
Hey! I can make mistakes and survive!
Hey! I can be an athlete!
Hey! I can go to another country alone and not speak the language and still have massive amounts of fun!
Hey! I can be different!

I did not consciously TRY to have a cool life -it came about from the slowly dawning realization that the only thing ever holding me back is me.

That is something I have to make more effort to remember.


*journalists can be cool people, too. All the ones I know are.

Enough!

I had a great disappointment last week.  The word "disappointment" isn't big enough to describe what happened.

After six months of working with another institution to shape a job that was, in fact, perfect for me, at the last minute it fell through.

In my head, I already had the job -after all, I had been living with the idea for six months.  I had a place to live and had checked out Meet-up groups and parishes.

Friday, in terms of Worst Days Ever, ranks up there with the deaths of my mother and brother, and getting kicked out of the convent.

It wasn't just a job.  It was my way out of a situation I find hopeless, without purpose, and suffocating.

This morning, I told the one work colleague I had shared this with that I was not actually going anywhere.

She smiled hugely and said, "I am so happy!  I don't want you to go. You make this place livable. I know I should be sorry for you, but really, I'm just happy for me."

I hugged her but kinda wanted to smack her.  I do not know why I am still here.  Leaving is one thing I usually do really well!

Today, I am back at work, printing off spreadsheets and prepping to make calls and doing the job I am paid pretty well to do.  Enough wallowing in self-pity.

As for the rest of it, I will have to live with the mystery.