Just Do You...

One foot in front of the other. Just get it done.  I can't believe I forgot my earbuds, this is going to be excruciating with no music.  I feel like a sausage stuffed into this shirt. Everyone can see my lumps and rolls.  Just keep walking. Watch the TV. No, Trump stuff is on, don't watch the TV. The elderly ladies beside me are walking faster than me and carrying on a full-out conversation. I'm sweating. Sweat is good. Keep going.  I swear those ladies behind me are whispering about me. Whatever. You're here right? Yeah, I'm here. I'm trying. It will get better. Should I run today or just walk? Maybe a little running, but don't overdo it.  Oh God, what do you do when Title 9's  "The Last Resort" bra isn't enough? That man is coming over to talk to the elderly ladies, please don't look at my boobs while I'm running.  God I hate running here where everyone can see me. Let's go back to walking.  Yeah, that's what I thought, he's going away now. Just keep walking. Why do you care what other people are thinking. Just do you. 

THAT was just a smattering of what was happening in my mind today during the 31 whole minutes I was on a treadmill at my gym.  While I finished and felt satisfyingly sweaty and pleased with myself for showing up for myself today, I can't ignore how much of my self-talk was worry. Worry about what other people would think of my body.  What others would think of my body while wearing snug-fitting clothing.  What others would think of my wiggles and jiggles. 

I am proud of myself for continuing to do what needed to be done despite the interference in my head.  There have been times when I've skipped the pool party, stayed home, or sat in tears on my beach towel because I was so worried about what someone else might think.  Of course, I should have been more concerned with what do **I** think about myself, as that was always and still is the root of the problem.  But hey, baby steps, right?  This is year 39, and I'm determined to hit year 40 with my head in the right place, and fully in the swing of just doing me. 

Taking Five

Sometimes I set out with grand intentions to write something brilliant, or profound, or insightful. Sometimes I walk around with an idea in my mind all day that is begging me to take five minutes to sit down and let it out. Sometimes I find myself talking to my students about how writing is a habit, yet failing to cultivate that habit in my own life around teaching, parenting, cooking, cleaning, and all of the other things I tell myself are more important than my five minutes.

So... today, here I am. Taking five minutes to say something with intention as I've wanted to do so many times over the past weeks and months. While in Pennsylvania for vacation I bought myself some new books about writing, brought along a writer's devotional, and set aside a new notebook, but not one new thing came into being during those three weeks. Not once during that time did I let myself sit and process all of the ideas and images and experiences from our travels.

I came home feeling the usual end-of-vacation despair, the exhaustion of solo parenting for two weeks, then compounded those feelings with anger and disappointment at myself for yet again failing to make time for a few minutes of something that is mine.

I feel lighter already, having just sat down and taken five minutes from paper-grading, from child-overseeing, from dog-scolding, and coffee-getting-colding to say what was on my mind.  Maybe I'll try it again tomorrow. :)