We're All Human Here

I'm feeling really good in my skin lately.

This is notable for a few reasons.

One of those is that I have had a habit of projecting my problems onto my body for somewhere around 13 years now. Feeling stressed, insecure, dissatisfied, inadequate, unsure? Call in a fat day! I've become convinced that "fat days" are nothing more than an easier way to deal with a deeper issue than "fat." Because, really, girls, you usually know if you've eaten too much broccoli or pizza, or if you-know-what is on the horizon. You know it'll pass and your belly will deflate.

But what if it doesn't? What if you're not thin or fit enough?

Thin enough for WHAT?

Usually the answer seems to be "thin enough to feel validated (because I don't feel validated in situation a, b, and c)." And that is what leaves me to believe that fat days are about something a little bit deeper.

Just a little. I've come to believe that life is too rich and beautiful to waste time blaming (berating?)my body. Sometimes I forget that; it can be a hard habit to break after over a decade of placing responsibilities on my body that it never should have been carrying.

I know I'm not the only one with habits like that to break.

It is way too easy to project negative feelings on things or even people that have no business weighing down on said things or people. Even unconsciously. Maybe especially then.

I know that the same person has said that the kids in my youth group are too serious because of Tim's personality AND that the kids are not serious enough, also because of Tim. On two separate occasions, of course.

This really irritated me. Really irritated me. The truth is that it is not all that hard to rile me up when it comes to those I love, and I had a hard time coming down off my high horse.

Until I realized that I place my own irritations in the wrong place quite often . (Refer to the above post if you're not quite sure where that is.)

Oh. We're all human here? Time to dismount.

A Short Letter and a Heavy Heart

Good morning:).
Have you ever seen Slumdog Millionaire? I saw it last night, and my heart is heavy. I don't want to spoil the movie if you haven't seen it but plan to, but it's some tough stuff. The thing is, I like the movies that depict how life really is BEST. They make me sad, but they are my favorite. Why do some people have to live like that, but we get to live like we do? Boo. My only real response so far has been to write a letter to my Compassion child, Puja, who happens to live in India, and send her a birthday gift. After that, I don't know, but it really brings the idea that I really have to be conscious of loving everyone I encounter throughout the day- no matter their demeanor- because I never know the life they have lived or are living.

Have you heard the phrase, "live simply, so others can simply live"? I believe that is important. But as I get older, it seems easier to settle into suburbia and think less about others and more about myself. Buying a car, buying a house. I don't think those things are wrong, but I do think we should live below our means "so others can simply live."

Freedom at 5 AM

This morning, I woke up at 5 am to the sound of Macey carving out new passageways in her club house (our box spring). I went to the bathroom, and then, because it is hard for me to follow asleep, I decided to stay up and get a jump on my day. Read a proverb, do the dishes, catch up on my blogs. (5 am may sound ridiculously early, but my actual wake-up time is only an hour later, and I come from a line of early-rising women. I have memories of waking up at the crack of dawn-and even before dawn- to the sounds of my grandmother preparing breakfast and other meals and doing housework. My mother seems to have been following in her footsteps.) Good idea, in theory. However, by the time it was too late to return to bed and catch a little more rest, I realized that I felt exhausted, definitely ready for a nap and not for the day ahead of me. Whoops.

Such is life. On other days, it might have worked. I did read that proverb, and I did catch up on some blogs (although, in my fatigue, I thought it best not to leave any comments, even if leaving comments was the original goal). I did not do the dishes. Poor Tim may be unable to find a clean knife later when he needs one. And although I can already hear you saying, “well, Tim can do the dishes!”, he’s been doing them, and it’s certainly my turn (and was several days ago!).

On other days, I might have laid a guilt-trip on myself about my failed plans, about the wasted time. I know that life is short, and I don’t want to waste time; I want to live out a rich and beautiful story. But it seems that (large and small) mistakes are part of the richness of life. I so often forget that life is a constant untangling of knots, of putting together puzzles, and exploring of corners. This, the idea that I can “start over” at any given moment, that I can be free of guilt trips, that I can stop obsessing with “what could have been,” has been one of the most freeing truths of my life.

I think I am finally beginning to understand grace.