I love variety. Change keeps my life exciting. I'm a medium risk taker so I am very familiar with the feeling of trying out something new. My problem is my heart forgets that feeling just as soon as I master the new newness.
It is very easy to give up on new because...it's new. New is the land of "I don't know." You don't know how things are going to turn out or how they should turn out. You don't know how long any part of the process should take, and if you do, that idea was planted in your head by someone who's not you. Someone else's new is not the same new as mine.
I realized that trying something new is like waking up in the middle of the night in your new house, apartment or condo. You're committed to the place but you don't know yet how to maneuver to the bathroom in the dark yet. You have to turn on the lights to see where you are going until you put all your furniture where it's supposed to be and you know your place like the back of your hand. It's a good new, but new none the less.
This gives me hope that new can be good and even it takes a while to figure out my way around my dark house, it's still my house. Just because I don't know how to do the new things I'm trying doesn't mean I'm not committed to seeing it through.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Motivation
I hate working out. I just wanted to preface this post with that fact. I don't know if I hate it more because it causes me pain or because I sweat. Ursh. But there is something I hate more. Not being able to fit my clothes, so working out has become the lesser of two evils.
It's a tight race. Some days, my hatred of sweat wins and I go straight to my office. Some days, my really nice New York & Company jeans remind me of how much weight I've gained. If I was running a count, I would say workout hatred is winning and the voter (me) goes to the polls three times a week.
But on a rare occasion, we have a recount. Today was a recount day. I woke up today at 6:45am and instantly made the decision not to work-out today. I began to console myself with reasons, good ones, too, of why I made the right decision. I had woke up earlier than normal and went to bed late last night. It was a dreary, rainy day. So what I hadn't worked out in more than three days. Today was a good day to take it easy.
I got out of bed and got dressed to take the children to the bus stop. Without thinking, I grabbed a pair of my New York & Company jeans and prepared to wiggle into them and to my surprise, they fit better than they did the last time I put them on. And I thought, this working out stuff is working. The jeans won the recount and I popped in the kickboxing tape. I'm celebrating with the jeans today. But Thursday will be a different story.
It's a tight race. Some days, my hatred of sweat wins and I go straight to my office. Some days, my really nice New York & Company jeans remind me of how much weight I've gained. If I was running a count, I would say workout hatred is winning and the voter (me) goes to the polls three times a week.
But on a rare occasion, we have a recount. Today was a recount day. I woke up today at 6:45am and instantly made the decision not to work-out today. I began to console myself with reasons, good ones, too, of why I made the right decision. I had woke up earlier than normal and went to bed late last night. It was a dreary, rainy day. So what I hadn't worked out in more than three days. Today was a good day to take it easy.
I got out of bed and got dressed to take the children to the bus stop. Without thinking, I grabbed a pair of my New York & Company jeans and prepared to wiggle into them and to my surprise, they fit better than they did the last time I put them on. And I thought, this working out stuff is working. The jeans won the recount and I popped in the kickboxing tape. I'm celebrating with the jeans today. But Thursday will be a different story.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Mom
My mother died March 12, 2002. It’s been six years but it feels like six months. The strangest thing is sometimes I feel like she’s here on the earth somewhere, I just don’t know where, like she’s gone on a trip where there are no phones. I’ve been dreaming about her lately, the last dream she was talking about how to arrange my shoes and sometimes having to do things a little different to make them all fit (shoes in dreams represent your life or walk.)
Every year when March 12th comes, I’m caught off guard. Today was no different. I went into my office to organize what I need to get done today and was staring at the date on my calendar. I kept thinking that there was something significant about today, but I couldn’t remember what. Oh, yeah. My mother died today.
I always remember her birthday, but what kind of remembrance do I do for the day she died? I don’t want to be sad, but what other choices do I have? Being sad won’t help. I was sad for an entire year after she died. I didn’t realize that I just miss her being proud of me, because she never said it. I miss her rejoicing over the accomplishments of Emmanuel because she only held him once before she got sick. I miss her being a mom, one I needed and I would like to miss not feeling like an orphan.
It wasn’t until I lost my mom that I realize how much children grow up trying to please their parents. And I didn’t do a very good job of pleasing my mom. And it was not for lack of trying. She was a difficult woman with impossible standards. Now, I think there are some things in my life that may please her. But she’s not here. She’s traveling and I can’t call her.
Every year when March 12th comes, I’m caught off guard. Today was no different. I went into my office to organize what I need to get done today and was staring at the date on my calendar. I kept thinking that there was something significant about today, but I couldn’t remember what. Oh, yeah. My mother died today.
I always remember her birthday, but what kind of remembrance do I do for the day she died? I don’t want to be sad, but what other choices do I have? Being sad won’t help. I was sad for an entire year after she died. I didn’t realize that I just miss her being proud of me, because she never said it. I miss her rejoicing over the accomplishments of Emmanuel because she only held him once before she got sick. I miss her being a mom, one I needed and I would like to miss not feeling like an orphan.
It wasn’t until I lost my mom that I realize how much children grow up trying to please their parents. And I didn’t do a very good job of pleasing my mom. And it was not for lack of trying. She was a difficult woman with impossible standards. Now, I think there are some things in my life that may please her. But she’s not here. She’s traveling and I can’t call her.
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