I know I wanted, nay, NEEDED to write. But the challenge is what should I write?
Should I beat the weightloss dead horse by oohing and ahhing over my highest weight to date? (173.8) (lions and tigers, oh my!)
Should I tell you about how I want to start a new blog (which will basically be my life’s work) regarding child rearing and psychology? (but I’m scared, and anxious and sometimes feel so unsure of myself)
Should I tell you about the profound (you bet I’m eyerolling myself) thought I had that if I believed in being kind to my child then I should be kind to all children/all people because they are all my children?
None of that and all of that I guess.
A long time ago I saw the movie Alive (true story about an airplane crashing into the Andes and these young men who survived in the freezing temps and climbed/crawled/walked out of there alive. Some say that it is to this day some of the greatest feats of mountaineering the world has ever seen. They had no equipment) There is this exchange between the men: First guy says: We’re going to die you know Second guy replies: “Maybe. But we are going to die walking”
Regarding my weight, my writing, my motherhood, my relationships (especially spiritual)….all the things taht supposedly define me, I wonder why I have no fighting spirit? Where is the “I will die walking” spirit in me? I am a comfort lover and if it seems too hard then I just want no part. Just want to curl up with a good book instead. Maybe I blame school for this attitude because it gave me head pats for such little effort? Maybe something in my upbringing? Beats me. Maybe even that spirit is hard won and comes by slow and painful small steps in the direction of your dreams, despite the fears and anxieties and stumbles?