My posting has been extremely light this late summer and autumn. That has mostly to do with my feeling dull and in and out of heavy malaise/depression. Today I don't feel so good. My muscles are kind of burn-y, my joints kind of stiff, my head a little pounding, tense, belly full of acidic messiness. That sounds like a lot of symptoms, and some, like my doctor, would even wrap it into the fold of "mild fibromyalgia". I try not to blow the presence of these symptoms up. The harder work is to actually listen, and respond to, the messages my body is sending me. It's so much easier to feel the pain without registering it. I find my mind migrating toward all sorts of negative ideas and guilt when I feel so physically shitty. I noticed this correlation last night and noticing it allowed me to relax my tense and tired muscles and self and fall into sleep.
Since I made delicious, but decadent, apple bread last night my sweet tooth won out over my good sense and I had a large piece before breakfast, even before water, this morning. That was not a smart move as it made my stomach churn and my burn within an hour later. I'm staying away from sugar today, even honey for my tea. I'm drinking as much water as I can stand and going to be sure to run for at least 20 minutes this afternoon.
My friend made the very important distinction last weekend that the simple thing is not necessarily the easy thing. He's so so right. I know how to live healthfully, and even enjoy doing so, especially when the reward is feeling like a glowing (gloating?) super goddess. The crux of my failure is that making the simple choices to live well are not my habitual choices of inertia and over-indulgence.
Much as I've struggled these last few months, I've also grown accustomed to a new level of determination. I'm making seriously lovely progress on all fronts and remain proud of it no matter how many loved ones point out to me that I'm bored, dissatisfied, or whatever. To them I say, "look around!! Shit is Fucked (Capital F) Up! If I'm being level headed or sensible or even fucking boring at least I'm not out smashing the windows of Hummers or robbing from the rich or..."
that train of thought derails into questions of why I haven't turned vigilante and then to fantasies of divine violence. I'm going to back up from that edge and simply congratulate myself on learning the following:
I am a beautifully faceted and competent person who knows how to try things she does not yet know how to do,
who can care for herself better than anybody else and wants to,
who can care for others with an honesty of heart that will make sure they know they are cared for and acknowledged,
who can let difficulty exist in her life without needing to make a big drama of it, who can invite the sex pot and the sugar daddy and the teacher and the small voice and all the other incomplete characters of her psyche come together in a crazy submarine orgy of lush oil paints and chocolate ecstatic singing to create a very beautiful outer world even when others try to cover it over.
(So can you!!)