Day 119: Sometimes the Inner Voice is a Bitch

It’s Wednesday and I have a big weekend ahead. We are leaving tomorrow after school for Little Rock. Which means I need to get things washed and packed and bought and organized and and and…

So I went running instead. It was again cold and wet so we went to the gym. I started on the treadmill but immediately felt my calf muscles knot. I tried running through it but a mile in I was still in a lot of pain so I hopped on the track. I hobbled through the next mile but eventually the pain subsided to a dull ache. But today I figured out something very exciting, I can listen to audible books when I run!

I’m a book nerd at heart so it as beautiful to get immersed in a story (actually a rather funny memoir) while I did my laps.

She talked in the book about the demon who comes to live with us all at some point. You know that says you are never enough, you are too much of something, or you will fail…

It made me wonder when that voice started for me…I control that voice pretty well and have for as long as I can remember not because I’m awesome but because I find self-loathing unproductive. I’m rather type-A, so most things require a logical, concrete outcome for me to be too interested. But occasionally I indulge in my own inner critic. It usually sounds something like “You should eat healthier, live with less of a foot print, be a better mother.” “You could be a better therapist, spend your money wiser, be skinnier.”

Oh the list that never ends…

But really, then what, would it ever be enough for this world? This voice in my head? My own expectations? Probably not…nodefinitely not.

So again I find my self left with only me, with only this moment…six miles strong and one silly secret smile…

Woman in blue with hat pulled down over eyes and a sly smile.Blonde-colored dog curled up sleeping in a deck chair.

Day #118: St. Patty’s Day

Today is St. Patrick’s Day

All this really means to me is that I should wear green so I don’t get pinched.

But I am a celebrator by nature. Any reason to embrace a day as special, to mark it with joy and set apart as fun. I love fun

Potato salad with paprika and a Reuben sandwich in the background.So we wore green and ate Reubens for lunch and cupcakes with green sprinkles. And I felt lucky today. Lucky to spend the day with my Love, lucky to enjoy the sun and beautiful day, lucky to be alive and in these moments.

So maybe it takes an obscure holiday to remind me that enjoying the “luck of the Irish” is really just appreciating the luck of being human.

I cross trained today and thought about my body. I have a love/hate relationship with it. I have been impressed with how far it has taken me. I have been happy to see it trimming up and getting stronger. But I still look in the mirror and finding glaring imperfection. And damn, that’s hard on a perfectionist. But it is what’s makes me superbly human, it’s what makes space for my grand adventures. It runs me miles, and grew a little human, and attracts my Love. And it is mine

St. Patty's Day cupcakes.

This led me to the next thought of why we put so much emphasis on our physical appearance. Almost every person I know is stressed to one degree or another about how they look. It’s weird to me that we put so much stock in something that tells us so little about the quality of a person. Something to think on, my lovelies.

But body aside, I am one lucky girl and I love taking this day and everyday to remember that and then celebrate it!

Day #61

We were in the shower, Adalie and I, because sometimes it’s more convenient and honestly because we have some of our best conversations in there!

I will be 32 on Sunday. Some days I look at myself and think, “Alright! Only 32!” Other days, I see wrinkles, grays, “waves” in my legs (aka cellulite), and chub everywhere. As I ran today, I felt more like the latter. My knee was hurting, my calf muscle felt like it was locked up, and I had a side cramp. I ran most of the 3.8 miles but felt all of my years doing it!

So back to shower time …

Mom, will I have a big butt like you when I get older?” She giggles.

I roll my eyes to myself and try to be positive because one thing I am very careful about with her is positive body image. I see the effects of the societal pressure already … she wants dark hair, she wants “cool” clothes and asks to wear make up, she worries about getting fat. She is six years old! I look at her and see perfection, as all mama’s do I’m sure. She looks and sees mistakes; it breaks my heart.

So I try to be very positive and matter-of-fact about my own body. We talk about how my body was able to produce milk to sustain her. We talk about how strong our muscles must be to run (me) and dance (her). We talk about food and how it nourishes us or harms us. We talk about all kinds of things and I honor her curiosity with honest (developmentally appropriate) answers. And because of that, I hope she will never be afraid of her own body. That no one will shame her about her sexuality or her biology. That she will accept, and then love, herself in every stage of womanhood.

So slightly embarrassed, I answer her, “You might have a bootie like mine one day, when you grow a baby in our tummy or get older.”

I expect horror or exasperation or at the very least her to poke fun at me.

“Yes!” She says instead, “I think you have the cutest bootie.”

I must be doing something right …

A girl on the floor reading a book.