I'm just your average, everyday, divorced 38 year old girl -- overweight, tragically unhip,
and trying to make a life for myself. I live with two furry beasts, Dave and Abby, whose
feline mission in life is to choke me with their fur. Nothing special.
Friday afternoon. I feel as though I'm coming down with a cold, which really bums me out. I'm going to New Orleans next Wednesday for three days of helping rebuild houses/parks/cemetaries/fried chicken restaurants (seriously!) and I do not have time to be sick. I've just sucked down some Cold-Eze tablets from the medicine cabinet here at work and am hoping like heck that I can cut it off early.
In other news, I'm doing something very worthwhile and also ridiculous given my total lack of preparation: I'm walking the San Diego AIDS Walk on Sunday. I'm doing it with a team of folks from work and we're not looking to break any speed records, but I know I'm going to be sore afterwards. If you would like to help me get some part of the $130 more I've pledged to raise, you can click on the button in the left side bar and do so online or email me for my snail mail address and send a check. TCB will be coming down to support me and might even walk, too (what a guy).
Finally, my session with Gloria went well and we will not see each other for two weeks now. I'm feeling pretty OK with the delay because, diet and exercise evidence to the contrary, I'm making some pretty good progress in sifting through my internal junk. I've even got an appointment tomorrow for a 90 minute private yoga session with a teacher who specializes in plus sized students. You might wonder why I'm not doing something like that with Gloria, and that's a good question. Basically, I'm just too uncomfortable having to say, "Um, yeah, I can't bend like that not because I'm not flexible enough to do so but because my stomach gets in the way and won't let my lungs inflate." I assume that someone specializing in plus sized clients will already know that and will automatically make adjustments in class. The first, private session is just so that she can get to know my goals and limitations in depth before I start in one of her classes. I'm really psyched because yoga is one of the best ways to get blocked energy in your body (due to past trauma, as Gloria would explain it) to start moving. That probably means that I'll end up crying in my yoga class at some point as the trauma gets released, but better there than driving on the freeway with TCB!
Wednesday afternoon. The thing about my relationship with Alcott is that it's the only thing that brings me absolute, unadulterated, pure joy. My soul expands every time I see him and I feel a hum of happiness for the rest of the day after I've been with him. Now that I haven't seen him since Thursday night, and knowing that he's in pain, I really miss him. I know, it's silly: He's a 15 year old boy, how can he be so important to me? I don't know, but he is. Gloria says it's because my intentions are totally positive in our relationship and because he's so young that he still radiates goodness and light (not having learned to be guarded). I suppose some of that's true, but how much more amazing is that given the fact that he's a foster child and has been through some really bad things?
I wish that I could package up the way that my heart feels. It's like the most exquisite balance of happiness and pain. Happiness because we are so well matched and balanced that it amazes me that we're not related in some way. Pain because I know that I can't keep that feeling forever and because I want all of my relationships to work as well and they don't. If I could bottle it, I'd send you each a sample and then I wouldn't need to write about it. But where would be the fun in that?
In other news, I haven't had a really crappy day yet this week at work. Now granted, it's only the end of my second day, but that's still something I find to be worthy of mention.
In still other news, I continue eating too much of the wrong foods and not exercising. Not worthy of celebration, but still I feel the need to bring it here in the interests of full disclosure.
Why is it so easy to balance my life some weeks and totally impossible others? Eh, I'll leave that to Gloria tonight.
Monday afternoon. I have spent the last nearly three days being slothful. Lazy. Sleeping for hours. Not seeing Alcott (he's seeing the orthopedic surgeon today) nor TCB (neither of us wanted to do the hour drive on Sunday). What I have done, though, is rebuild my spirit. I haven't had the indulgence of being able to sleep as long as I wanted or choose what my activities for the day would be in, well, since my trip to the spa last summer. I was an only child growing up, so solitude is something I'm accustomed to and just haven't had enough of lately.
Love, love, love, LOVE it. I don't care about everything that didn't get done because there's plenty of time, but sometimes nothing is the right thing to do.
