Exposing Personal Myths

What ecstatic fun you can have examining the myriad myths of a misspent youth!

While I was in the shower this morning (because you needing the setting), I had an epiphany (because epiphanies and hot water seem to go hand in hand). Here's what I remembered: I used to think that "thin" had a weight limit and that was 110 pounds (roughly 50 kg)...

HUH?!? No wonder I had weight/body image issues! I have no idea where that number actually came from, but there it was as if from one of Moses' stone tablets.

Okay, well, that might be exactly what thin looks like for some folks (and my sincere blessings to you if you are in that category), but at 5'10" tall, that wouldn't have been "thin" for me. That would have been skeletal.

Luckily for me, I spent most of my excessively athletic high school years between 135-145. No, I didn't realize then how thin I actually was, but I have a great appreciation for that fact now. During college, I padded out a little, but still stayed between 145-160. Well within healthy norms for my height and build. I happen to have dense muscle mass (or so my chiropractor insists), so the scale weight for me of say, 140, equates to a size 5/6.

Right now, late-30's and post-babies, I'm aiming for a comfortable size 7/8, whatever that happens to look like on the scale. That's a drop of only about 3 sizes, nothing requiring surgery or hyper-restrictive dieting, but still a challenge on every face of it. I've been doing a yoga-pilates class several nights a week for about 2 months and I can tell a difference, but it doesn't seem to be quite "enough". Yes, there's that word, but I'm not applying it to myself in this case but rather my choice of physical activity.

So I joined a walking team at work. It's the first time they've done this so I don't know many of the details but I got my pedometer this morning and it's almost insanely fun to see how my regular walking adds up. Our manufacturing facility is quite large and though I don't often venture into the vast recesses, I do at least make the trek to/from my vehicle in addition to walking up and down a large flight of stairs several times each day. The pedometer measures to the thousandths of a mile so every step (or five) adds to the total.

As I've delved deeper into exposing myths (like "my ideal weight *should* be 110 lbs."), I've built healthier, more realistic concepts to take their place. Yoga, walking - maybe even running if I can beat the insane summer heat - these help me construct that framework that will sustain me through the rest of my years (which I plan to be numerous).

What personal myths have you excavated from your childhood/youth?

Shine On

This might not be obvious from previous posts - in fact, this might run entirely contrary to previous posts, come to think of it - but I am a relatively happy person. With few breaks in continuity, I have primarily looked upon the world in general with a glass-three-quarters-full, anything-is-possible sort of attitude. It's no coincidence that the first tattoo I chose was a sunshine with a Northward-pointing compass directional above it. Sunny, happy-go-lucky, joyous, brighten-your-spirits - I identify deeply with those descriptors.

In my darkest of days (the ones that seem most often to find their outlet here), one or the other of the wonderful people whom I cherishingly (is that a word?) claim as friends nearly always manages to remind me that I am valuable, to them and to my boys and to others as well. In the throes of pain, it's not always easy to dredge up (or believe) that kind of information by myself. It's much, much easier to believe that my contribution to this world is so little as to be utterly insignificant, which invariably breeds the thought: "Then what's the point?"

There's always a point, to every life that exists then ceases to exist. How we perceive, receive, believe and allow those lives to achieve their ends provides us with the reason. When we stifle life, our own or others, we cause damage that's impossible to measure. Still, those times are ripe for learning, too, in the endless, formless, timeless way that existence simply happens.

As I continue to emerge from my current cycle, rising into the next one with just a little more grace, a little more wisdom, a little more experience, and just possibly a little less baggage, I can feel a radiance beginning to grow within. It's always been there, though it's been frightfully dim for too long. With continued nurturing, that light will once again have the chance to shine through - Future's so bright, we're all gonna need shades!

Gifted

Taxes are beckoning (it's a frightening, crookedy finger that Tax Man has...) but I HAD TO acknowledge a lovely gift that arrived à notre Georgia-based maison yesterday afternoon all the way from my blogger friend Jess in California who writes Zoe. No, we've never met in person. Yes, I believe we are friends by soul, in Spirit, in shared tribulations, and in the vastly different circumstances that have made us each into the people we are.

Thank you, Jess, for this:

What's in this package?
And how did the Post Lady fit it in the mailbox?

Cheesy "I'm posing for a picture" Grin

Anticipation!!!

Inhale Deeply

Eucalyptus-y Wonderfulness!!!

Aren't they lovely?

Thank you!!!

Grief Gratitude Grace

Graceful Beauty

Lately, I've been doing a lot of grieving. For the people of Christchurch, New Zealand, and Miyagi Prefecture, Japan, and their relatives around the world. For Chad. For a high school classmate who's suffering an inconceivable loss.

I'm almost embarrassed to admit that grieving for them makes me feel grateful, but isn't that almost always the way? Don't you see someone else suffering and have a moment of gladness that it isn't you even as you wish they didn't have to experience it either? Why should we pile guilt for gratitude on top of grieving?

Whether with or without sorrow, I love my life. A blogger friend's post reminded me of that this morning. Things don't have to be perfectly hunky-dory for me to have great appreciation the people in my life. Such an amazing panoply of lives have touched mine, molded mine, shaped me gently (and not-so-gently) into the person that I am. A person I'm still learning how to love and cherish, a person who is still evolving, still learning, still growing.

And I don't regret a step of the journey. Parts have seemed almost ridiculously difficult, though less so in retrospect. Once you've lived through hardship and emerged into the sunshine on the other side, it's not always easy to peer back into those darker regions and see very clearly. You're a bit blinded, you see, and that's probably how it should be.

I don't really know whether "time heals all wounds" is an accurate phrase. Time makes them easier to bear, easier to contextualize… harder to recall with clarity.

So on the other side of my tears for friends known and unknown, I find genuine gratitude, renewed energy for my endeavors, and hope for healing of the deep sorrows of the world.

Put more simply, I find love.

Three Boys I Love