Time for Reconciliation

One week in, and I thought I might collapse before my legs got me home as I continued to lengthen the journey of the day. It wasn't because of the lack of oxygen, or chest pain. It was because my upper legs and hips were taking a beating as my determined spirit commanded them to move forward. Again and again. Never give up. Never give up. Keep going. Keep going...

The winter months (and a lazy spirit) had gotten me to a weight that wasn't acceptable. The problem wasn't what I thought others thought as they looked my way. The problem was what I thought, every time I looked at the reflection of someone I didn't know. Had I really allowed myself to get to this point? Evidently I had. 

My sweet tooth yelled back at me. "It doesn't just magically appear, young lady!" So, me, and who I was created to be (physically AND mentally), jumped into the conversation for the hundredth time. "This is not good." "You DO want to be around for your grand-kiddos, right?" "Don't you miss how GOOD it felt to be the size your body loves being?" "This will take some time, but seriously, where will you be when that time has past?" And finally, "Let's get to work!"

Isn't it crazy what our mind tells us when we finally decide to make a change? Where food is concerned, everytime I walked past the pastry sitting on the counter (waiting for me and a cup of coffee), my thoughts were that I should get that all eaten before starting this wind down of sweets entering my mouth. UGH!!! So I did. 🙄

This staycation has been good. I feel I'm able to focus a bit better and hopefully get some of those cobwebs out of my stale, stagnant brain. I'm seriously tired of mindlessly walking through the motions of everyday life. I did make plans to shake things up a bit for this 6 day sabbatical, yet none have been accomplished, and I'm 4 days in. I have no remorse. 😂  

If you don't know by now, I'm a bit of a mysterious person. Sometimes I talk too much, wishing I could just fade into the background and be silent. Sometimes I don't talk hardly at all, wishing I had someone that would listen. But, for the most part, I'm a pretty verbal gal. I want my voice to be heard. Good or bad. Focused or indifferent. Happy or sad. Isn't that what most of humanity wants? To be heard? 

I've been told by my doctor, to please start walking. She wants this cholesterol level to drop and blood pressure to even out. So do I, so I walk. Granted, it took her about 3 months to get me moving, but it's not like I lead a motionless life. I still work at this ripe old age of 76. Sure, it's only 4 days a week, but still. That should account for something. Right? Turns out it doesn't amount to much at all. Even though I'm on my feet for the duration of those 4 days, I'm not really moving that much. Unless standing translates to movement, I may be in trouble. My arms are nice and strong and my legs are the epitome of strength, but the other less worked parts, wellllll....

Guess I could blame the bakery for making those tempting morsels in the first place. They are the cause of all the morbidity, not only in me, but in the masses. Right? Maybe we should sue them. Isn't that what we do nowadays? We couldn't possibly be responsible for this madness our bodies are rebelling with. If they hadn't tempted us, we'd never be in this situation. How dare they! And why should the bakery's profit from our sufferings? 

Sorry...had to show off my wokeness for a minute. 

My parents raised 10 kids to understand that their actions had consequences. Good, and not so good. We were made to understand that how others lived their lives, made no difference in how (or why) we reaped consequences. The outcome of our lives depended completely on how we faced and responded to the life we were given. And much of it came from the amount of control we had over ourselves. How much we demanded submission of our own body. Over its actions. Our consequences were in direct relation to what we chose to do in any given circumstance. 

So...here I go again, taking charge (once again) of my actions. I never should have relinquished, should never have pushed away, the complete understanding of the charge I have over my home. The shelter of my spirit. I should never have relinquished charge of all the countless ways my body was designed to aid me in the choices I made. My body is faithful. Until it can no longer be so because of my choices. We are partners. My body and I. It will give me good returns, if I but give it good nutrition and proper movement.

Working on forgiveness of such blatant irresponsibility, here you'll find me...in Mary's World.