Eat the Christmas Cookies

I’m tired.

Mentally, physically and emotionally. Exhausted. Spent. Bushed.

Stick a fork in me, I’m done.

2019 has been a crap year. For me, and for a lot of people I care about. I’m hoping 2020 is better, but I have to admit that I have no real hope that it will be. I have no reason to believe anything will change – including my ability to see things differently, which is really the problem ultimately – any time soon. You never know, though, so I’m setting my sights on January and cruising easy the rest of this year. Miracles happen. After all, the Red Wings won last night.

Anything is possible.

That’s what I’m counting on. No matter what, though, the reality is that I just keep going. That’s all there is: one foot in front of the other, moving forward, one minute at a time. As long as I draw breath, I’m not giving up.

For the rest of the year, though, I’m giving in.

My plan for the next 3 weeks (actually I started this week) is simple:
1. Eat what makes me happy.
2. Drink what makes me happy.
3. Do what makes me happy (as much as I can, within the confines of my responsibilities).

Simple. Life is short. For me right now there is no value in denying myself things I enjoy. Most of the time I have to, and I’m okay with that. There are constraints on my time and on my freedom, and I acknowledge that there is value in being vigilant about my health. I accept all that. I’m depleted now, though, so I have to do something to refill the tanks for the next part of the journey.

For the rest of 2019, I’m giving myself a break and indulging in whatever makes me feel good, as long as it’s legal, affordable, and not immediately dangerous. I’m not wild by nature, so what this really boils down to is that I’m probably going to gain a little weight and my blood pressure will go up a little again cuz I like to eat and drink things that are not exactly healthy, and I’m taking some major time off work so that I can indulge my desire to do as little as possible for the rest of the year. My goal is to be dressed in anything other than pajamas and slippers only if absolutely necessary until January.

Eat the Christmas cookies.. That’s my motto. It sums it all up. It’s a reasonable short-term approach to life; very in the moment, enjoying limited opportunities and not looking too far ahead. I’m an adult, and I can decide what I do with my body and with my free time. Being gluttonous and slothful are only two of the Deadly Sins, and probably won’t kill me, but if they do, I will have died happy.

Starting next Friday, I’m taking vacation time from work, so in addition to eating and drinking and being merry, I’m going to sleep in, read for hours on end, go for walks. Whatever I want. I’m stepping out of my normal life as much as possible and giving myself permission to have what I want (within reason) and do what I want (within reason and time constraints) for the rest of this year, which I’m sooooo happy to say farewell to in three weeks.

See ya! Don’t let the door hit you on the way out! Ba bye!

I’ll still be doing all my normal stuff at home – meals, shopping, shoveling, dishes, laundry, and I promised mom for Christmas I would actually really clean the house – but beyond that, I’m free to do what I want during the hours I would normally be at work, and that to me right now seems like the BEST THING EVER!

On January 6, 2020, I’ll return to work and to the gym and to eating normally. I hope I’ll be renewed, refreshed, rejuvenated. If not, it’ll still be okay.

Keep moving forward, one minute at a time.

In the meantime, eat the Christmas cookies!

hue12-photography-2qzZubxw7WE-unsplash

Where the light peeks through

This ruined house - Shikibu
Everything is relative and perspective is what makes the difference. My mother dislikes sunny days. I love them. She likes cold weather, the hotter the better for me. I read fiction, mostly. I have a friend who reads non-fiction almost exclusively. Cats for me, dogs for a friend.

We’re all different and what matters to me may or may not matter to you. Doesn’t mean either of us is more or less than the other, just that we’re not the same. Though different, we’re all deserving of love and consideration. What matters is that we remain true to ourselves and do what’s right and best for us in our own lives.

You can’t see life from my perspective, and I can’t see it from yours. You are upset about the wind. I’m rejoicing in the moonlight. I can say to you, “Forget about the wind! Look at the moon!” You say to me, “Are you crazy? Who cares about the moon? I’m freezing!”

Both things are present; both are true. Which is the “best” way to think about that situation?

It’s all in the perspective. We are each of us entitled to our view of the world. No one sees things in exactly the same way I do. I can tell you what I think and feel, and you can share your perspective with me, but neither of us can get inside the other’s head and really know what the view is like from there.

This is something I’ve struggled with all of my life, especially with my mother. When I was young, I simply adopted her view of the world in order to be accepted. I learned early on that she wasn’t at all interested in my view, and if I made the mistake of sharing my thoughts or feelings about anything, she was quick to explain all the ways in which my view was incorrect. Period.

I was just wrong. All the time. So I simply dissolved into an extension of her. It took a long time and therapy to distinguish myself finally from her, and to believe that the way in which I perceived things, including myself, was equally as true as her view. I’m not wrong, just different.

We’re not the same person. She’s not wrong, and neither am I.

Living with her again these last 7 years has certainly put this principle to the test. It’s a challenge everyday for each of us to accept the other as she is. There is lots of common ground, and we meet there and enjoy each other’s company most of the time.

Every so often, though, we unintentionally prod old bruises and one of us is tempted to think of the other as the villain and lash out in retaliation. Suddenly I’m 6 years old again, only now I’m not afraid to speak up for myself. I have to remember, though, that she’s not a villain; she is simply a human being doing the best she knows how to do – always was – and that ultimately she wants the same things I do: to be loved, to feel safe, and to be happy.

When I see her that way, with compassion, everything changes and we’re back on common ground again. We are the same, and we are different. Both things are true.

Nobody’s wrong, and no one is to blame. We’re different, and we’re both okay as we are.

We’re all okay, just as we are. I feel the wind, you see the moon.

It’s all good.

Rolling ramble

14917108_10207515197344727_6537824703183460060_o

This time of year, I tend to measure the quality of the day by the weather. Spring has been slow to come here, and I have had to adjust my expectations. I’m pretty far north, so a cool Spring is not wholly unheard of, but this year is unique in memory for its refusal to warm up to even “normal” temperatures. It’s almost June and we’re still in the 50s F for the most part. And the rain!

Oh, the rain. So. much. rain.

My window for riding without freezing body parts is pretty narrow as it is, and this year it’s getting even slimmer. My last ride in the fall was in mid-September, due to abnormally cold and rainy weather heading into early snow, so if this year follows suit, I’ll be lucky to get 100 days of decent riding weather. Considering it’ll probably rain for at least 1/3 of those days, the view is grim from my saddle.

So, I have to lean back and  remind myself of two important realities:

  1. I have no control over the weather. Which is really a shame, cuz given the chance I feel like I could do a lot better. (tee hee)
  2. I can’t foretell the future. It could be a lot better than I’m imagining and I’m going to hang on to that possibility with every ounce of strength I have.

Having said all that, I have managed a couple of really nice rides in the last week: a quick one last Wednesday after work when the temps were still in the high 50s after work and there was very little wind and LOTS of beautiful sunshine, and an absolutely perfect ride on the Pretty Purple Bike on Saturday when the temps soared into the 70s.

Last week was a perfect example of the silliness of Michigan weather: Wednesday full cold weather gear on my ride, 3 days later shorts and shorts sleeves, and the next day too cold to ride. I wore a jacket and gloves to mow the lawn yesterday.

…sigh…

Whatever. This is where I live. Complaining doesn’t change the weather, but it does make me feel slightly better to rail at the universe over the unfairness of it all. Believe me, I get how lucky I am to have nothing more than cool temps to complain about while others are dealing with tornadoes and flooding.

Really. I get that.

Still gonna complain, though. 😜

19642551_10209527566812706_6722060519940696347_n

Good news, too: Hanging out at the gym all winter has resulted in more than a good relationship with the gym dog. (She’s a sucker for treats.) I have increased muscle in my arms and legs, which is noticeable on the bike and in doing yard work this Spring. Hard work pays off. We know this, don’t we? Still hard, when in the winter all I really wanted to do after work was go home and crash. I did it, though. I didn’t let myself down, and now I’m reaping the rewards. I love it when that happens!

It’s bound to warm up sooner or later (I so hope it’s sooner), and I’ll get out on the trail as often as I can. That’s all I can do. As in so many things, my displeasure with the weather has everything to do with my expectations and almost nothing to do with the way things really are. Two choices:

  1. Expect things to be different than they are.
  2. Be happy.

Uh, number 2, please!

See you on the trail. 🚲 

In the middle

Life is not so much about beginnings and endings as it is about going on and on and on. It is about muddling through the middle.

This has been a good week and I’m enjoying life in the middle. Not really muddling all that much, though, and that’s what’s made it feel so good. I have felt comfortable this week resting in what is – who I am, what I’m doing, and the way in which life is unfolding in every moment. Content to be present and able to welcome life as it comes. It wasn’t a kidney stone week, and that helped, for sure, but it wasn’t easy-peasy, either.

It was just regular life – some happy things, a couple of scary things, some annoying things, some sad things, and one or two downright disheartening things. Nothing extreme on either end of the spectrum, just the regular stuff, and a little bit of Spring thrown in to give the heart a leg up to start.

Doesn’t happen all that often, and I know it won’t last that long, but for the last few days I’ve felt steadfast. Ready. Willing to go on. Hopeful, even, that somehow everything will work out for the best – even if it’s not what I want, whatever happens may be just what I need – if I just get out of my own way and just let things be.

That’s not easy, and I’m not usually very good at it, but this week it was like a gift. It’s been effortless. I’m grateful for it cuz the week before that nearly sent me spiralling into the abyss. I was muddling through, frustrated with the again-ness, beating my head against the wall of familiar intractable problems – at work, at home, with the house and my health – and so so so discouraged.

I kept getting out of bed and facing the days, though, getting through, and somehow, now I’ve gotten over that wall. I can’t honestly say I know what changed, but Tuesday it was all just different. I was different. I surrendered. Instead of giving up, I gave in. Instead of apathy, acceptance. Another layer of resistance peeled away; scraped off by the abrasion of life.

So I’m reminded that all I have to do is show up. Be present. Muddle through the middle, as Anna Quindlen says. What matters is the middle. Rest easy in the knowledge that everything passes, and then comes again. That’s just the way it is. There is only now, and me, and what is. There is no way to live life so perfectly that there are no problems. Somehow I keep thinking that I’m going to get to a place where everything is all right all the time. Rationally I know there is no such place and that there is no way to get there. There is still a part of me that’s not convinced, though, so there’s more to learn.

My challenge is to welcome the problems as lessons, the again-ness as the opportunity to learn them well; to reach a deeper level of understanding and acceptance over and over again. That’s why I’m here, and that’s what’s best for me, even though it doesn’t always seem so.

I’m probably not ever going to fully accept that, but I think I’m getting better, and this week I had it knocked. Next week I’ll probably trip all over myself again and fall flat on my face. Whatever. I know I’m doing the best I can, and that my intention is on track, and that I’m heading in the right direction. That’s all that’s necessary.

Just muddling through until I get to a good place to rest for a while. I’m happy to be here.

Now.