I have extra days off this week, due to the holiday. While my bank account cringes, my sanity falls to its knees and weeps grateful tears. We were going down a bad road there for a while.
In updates:
I actually got my shit together this summer and I began running like a real athlete. I ran in a 10k (my first race ever) and made a very respectable fifty two minutes. For my troubles, two beautiful girls covered themselves in tiger lilies and offered me a bonsai tree and an ice cream cake. Then we flung ourselves into the ocean in front of a class of scuba divers, all while laughing hysterically. It was gorgeous.
About two months later, I realized I did not have the means to afford the entrance fee for my half marathon of 13.2 miles. So I woke up one saturday morning and just did it. For myself. Entirely alone. I ran 13.4 miles in two hours flat. Then I walked the 3 miles I always walk to work, and worked an eight hour day.
NBD.
Later, in early september, the charm of running was worn. I was sick of dragging myself out of bed so I could have barely enough time to shower after my run and scamper over the bridge to work. I was not reading books. I was not writing. I was just running.
And I think I needed to know that my body was capable of that.
But I choose to emphasize my brain's capability.
I have been really stressed out this year. Beyond any levels I have ever grazed in the past. I got migraines, insomnia, I ate until I wanted to throw up, I starved myself for a day or two. I ran and ran, I slept and sat. I drank glass after glass of red wine and one day my pants fit me and the next day they didn't. I had sex, I didn't have sex. I had shingles. I healed.
I have some ideas about how I want this year to go.
I am going to really attempt to let go of this obsession with food and my body. Really.
I am going to finish editing the book.
I am going to edit a dozen of my short stories and launch a writer's website.
I am going to drink more water and do a little yoga and meditate for a few minutes every day.
I am going to be more fucking confident.
Every gesture, every motion a purposeful one. I will not be afraid to disagree and have an opinion.
I am going to make time to read for at least an hour. Every day.
If I have to write out schedules for myself, I will do so. This is important.
I am important.
Today is thanksgiving, a holiday I have never felt moved by.
Instead of spending the day driving to my parents' house way the hell up in maine only to be trapped in limerick for six hours before the meal and the inevitable drive home, B and I have decided to spend the holiday with our non-blood family.
Yesterday I drank coffee in my living room with darling jess. We laughed and relaxed. In the evening, we went over to Benjamin and Lisa's house (where the festivities are today), and I used their fabulous kitchen appliances to make a sweet potato pie and individual garlicky bread puddings for the big meal.
I drank a beer and a half. I ate hawaiian pizza. B and Benjamin and jess and I hung out in the cozy kitchen and listened to music. It was lovely.
Today, I am going to remind myself that there are beautiful things happening every day. Every minute. I want to take a little time to breathe them in, and be thankful that I am alive, I am healthy, I have food and friends and a husband who looks like a bear cub when sleeping.
I am love.
