Every new year, we challenge ourselves and others to make big resolutions, goals, to become a "new you". Lots of people embrace this tradition, running out to take advantage of gym membership deals, joining dating services, looking for a new job. Others reject the tradition citing the hordes of people who fail or give up within months if not weeks. I understand where the fatalists and skeptics are coming from- I too call bullshit on the elliptical sale at Sears because I know that by March 14 it will be a really weird looking drying rack for my shower curtain (yes, I wash and reuse my shower curtains- don't let the industry fool you, they are machine washable! Save yourself $12.95 people!) But I also love the idea of new beginnings and each year trying to be a little bit more of who you want to be. Spending money to try to become who society says I need to be is ridiculous, but I don't want to throw the baby out with the bathwater. So the quest for a worthy New Year's Resolution began.
This new year, I was challenged (by my, ahem, counselor) to make space for my voice. This was a refreshing challenge (which actually felt more like an invitation than a challenge) compared to the constant "health/fitness/weight-loss challenges" which are really just, well, how can I put this, a shitty interior of self-denigration wrapped in a shitty exterior of societal conformity (chewy on the inside, crunchy on the outside, just shut up and pass me a butterfinger). Seriously though, don't get me wrong, I still plan on continuing to pursue health this year, it's just so freeing to think of it as a more holistic pursuit- one that includes my mind and heart rather than one that just entails me sweating on a mat in yoga class with some 19 year old's crotch in me face NOTE 1: I did catch the typo "me face" instead of "my face" but decided to keep it because if anything makes me feel like a gnarly freaking pirate, it's yoga class with 19 year-olds. NOTE 2: if 19 year old crotches are your thing, wrong blog). So, anyway, this year, in addition to yoga class, I will be making an intentional choice to write more. Maybe one day I'll be a "real writer"( you know, when I grow up) or maybe I'll just learn more about who I am.
My first 'challenge' will be to write one poem each week for the next 6 weeks. This sounds simple enough but I'm already overwhelmed (and excited). Let's see how it goes.
Showing posts with label Self-love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Self-love. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Dear Overworked,
Dear Overworked
Found this in my journal from 4 years ago... still seems relevant today.
You know something it's time for some reflections when...
Found this in my journal from 4 years ago... still seems relevant today.
You know something it's time for some reflections when...
You make up a batch of whipped cream- no not for company or a fancy meal- just to eat it by yourself!
You throw a shoe at the dog because he smells.
You tell your son you're putting 10 minutes on the timer and secretly put 8 just to be spiteful.
Oh, oops, that was all me! Who is spiteful to a 5 year old you ask with doe-like innocence and wonder in your eyes. That would be me, I am sorry to say.
When is the last time you checked in with yourself to see how you're doing? Or better yet, when is the last time you checked in with another friend to see how each of you are doing? Time has got to be on the list of endangered resources these days, and I know it can be hard to find even a half hour to sit down and take stock. But if you can bear the thought- just hear me out for a sec- if you can bear the thought of leaving the dishes in the sink and the laundry unfolded just a little while longer. If you can let the kids run in the yard *gasp* semi-unsupervised, or *bigger gasp* set them down in front of a show for a bit, maybe you can find someone to talk to, to pray with, to kvetch to, moan, cry or laugh with for just a little bit. Or take the time to sit alone and be quiet.
Quiet reflection and talks with friends- I have been missing this big time lately. Big, big time. With all of the busy-ness there just hasn't been time for the "frivolous" self-care or self-assessment. But guess what, I'm a stingier mom, and a grumpier wife when I foolishly assume that it's impossible for me to make time for me. If I don't sit down to think, journal, pray, trouble soon follows. I am slowly learning that.
You throw a shoe at the dog because he smells.
You tell your son you're putting 10 minutes on the timer and secretly put 8 just to be spiteful.
Oh, oops, that was all me! Who is spiteful to a 5 year old you ask with doe-like innocence and wonder in your eyes. That would be me, I am sorry to say.
When is the last time you checked in with yourself to see how you're doing? Or better yet, when is the last time you checked in with another friend to see how each of you are doing? Time has got to be on the list of endangered resources these days, and I know it can be hard to find even a half hour to sit down and take stock. But if you can bear the thought- just hear me out for a sec- if you can bear the thought of leaving the dishes in the sink and the laundry unfolded just a little while longer. If you can let the kids run in the yard *gasp* semi-unsupervised, or *bigger gasp* set them down in front of a show for a bit, maybe you can find someone to talk to, to pray with, to kvetch to, moan, cry or laugh with for just a little bit. Or take the time to sit alone and be quiet.
Quiet reflection and talks with friends- I have been missing this big time lately. Big, big time. With all of the busy-ness there just hasn't been time for the "frivolous" self-care or self-assessment. But guess what, I'm a stingier mom, and a grumpier wife when I foolishly assume that it's impossible for me to make time for me. If I don't sit down to think, journal, pray, trouble soon follows. I am slowly learning that.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Dear Chubby Girl
Dear Chubby Girl,
Put your big girl panties on and walk away from that fool.
OK, that's a little harsh, and a little simplistic and possibly a little narrow. But really, maybe it's not. I'm a chubby girl too. To be fair, 'chubby' is what people say when they want to make terms like overweight and obese sound cuter- whatever, doesn't matter. Whatever you want to call it, I'm that too. But, the title of this letter could easily read a hundred different ways: "Dear shy girl, Dear girl with a big nose, Dear girl with crooked teeth, Dear not- the-brightest girl, Dear girl with a past, Dear fill in the blank with whatever adjective you most fear someone will point out at a party. All of you, put those bloomers on, or if you prefer, your micro-fiber hipster panties- and walk away from the loser (I know, I know, he's not, he's misunderstood, he needs you, he doesn't mean it, he's not always that way, I don't know him like you do, he LOVES you) that keeps telling you that all of the aforementioned titles (chubby, big nose, crooked teeth, less than impressive wit, unmentionable past) are what make you lucky to have his mediocre 'love.'
Now, I recognize that people can grow and change and work through things, and I am not a fan of the ever popular cut and run tactics that most of Hollywood (not to mention the rest of American society) employ in the arena of marriage. Primarily, though, I am not talking to the woman who has weighed the pros and cons and decided to commit to an imperfect man (aren't they all, aren't we all?) for better or worse (what to do then is a topic for another day entirely...), I am talking about the girl who has that irksome feeling, that little voice that's telling her "you don't deserve this, don't keep dating him, don't move in with him, don't marry him" but is tempted to listen to the louder, harsher lying voice (ever notice how people get louder and more emphatic when they're lying? Same goes for the voice inside.) which says "remember, beggars can't be choosers."
It's true, beggars can't be choosers, (well except for that time when I was walking through the Lexington Ave tunnel on my way to catch the 6 Train and a homeless man asked me for money because he was hungry. I had a fresh, uneaten, sesame-egg bagel with veggie cream cheese- hello, heaven!- folded neatly in a brown paper bag. I offered it to him. I was coming from an evening church service and was feeling all kinds of good samaritan-y. The man, who did not smell quite as fresh as my bagel, refused my love offering, citing "too many carbs". I was pissed, "what the hell?! Too many carbs?! Whatchu on the Atkins' Diet??" Bye Bye good samaritan, hello Xena, defender of NY bagelkind!) Generally speaking though, no, beggars cannot be choosers, but you are not a beggar, at least not a beggar of love from a man who doesn't want to give it freely. If you want to beg, beg grace from the almighty, I won't argue with that. Beg for patience and strength and the grace to be kind to others when it's hard. Beg for peace and acceptance and love for who you who have been made to be, beg for self-control to stop the bad habits and patterns you've fallen into (we all have them) and the perseverance to change into the woman you want to be. But beg a man to stay with you when he's already shown you that he doesn't want to? No. Don't wait for him to leave you (he probably never will- you give him everything and require nothing of him) don't walk on pins and needles trying your best to eliminate all of the things that you think make him uncommitted and uncertain about you, trying not to give him a reason to leave. You choose- choose love, choose life.
Now's the time in this letter for me to tell you all the reasons why you are worth loving and why you should "believe in yourself". But, I'm not going to- maybe I'm not in the mood, or maybe I know that it can't come from a letter from some stranger or maybe it's because I've never been good at gentle words of encouragement (kick in the pants being my preferred style). And maybe telling you to put on your big girls panties, and walk away is harsh. Or maybe it's exactly right.
Love and life,
From a friend.
Put your big girl panties on and walk away from that fool.
OK, that's a little harsh, and a little simplistic and possibly a little narrow. But really, maybe it's not. I'm a chubby girl too. To be fair, 'chubby' is what people say when they want to make terms like overweight and obese sound cuter- whatever, doesn't matter. Whatever you want to call it, I'm that too. But, the title of this letter could easily read a hundred different ways: "Dear shy girl, Dear girl with a big nose, Dear girl with crooked teeth, Dear not- the-brightest girl, Dear girl with a past, Dear fill in the blank with whatever adjective you most fear someone will point out at a party. All of you, put those bloomers on, or if you prefer, your micro-fiber hipster panties- and walk away from the loser (I know, I know, he's not, he's misunderstood, he needs you, he doesn't mean it, he's not always that way, I don't know him like you do, he LOVES you) that keeps telling you that all of the aforementioned titles (chubby, big nose, crooked teeth, less than impressive wit, unmentionable past) are what make you lucky to have his mediocre 'love.'
Now, I recognize that people can grow and change and work through things, and I am not a fan of the ever popular cut and run tactics that most of Hollywood (not to mention the rest of American society) employ in the arena of marriage. Primarily, though, I am not talking to the woman who has weighed the pros and cons and decided to commit to an imperfect man (aren't they all, aren't we all?) for better or worse (what to do then is a topic for another day entirely...), I am talking about the girl who has that irksome feeling, that little voice that's telling her "you don't deserve this, don't keep dating him, don't move in with him, don't marry him" but is tempted to listen to the louder, harsher lying voice (ever notice how people get louder and more emphatic when they're lying? Same goes for the voice inside.) which says "remember, beggars can't be choosers."
It's true, beggars can't be choosers, (well except for that time when I was walking through the Lexington Ave tunnel on my way to catch the 6 Train and a homeless man asked me for money because he was hungry. I had a fresh, uneaten, sesame-egg bagel with veggie cream cheese- hello, heaven!- folded neatly in a brown paper bag. I offered it to him. I was coming from an evening church service and was feeling all kinds of good samaritan-y. The man, who did not smell quite as fresh as my bagel, refused my love offering, citing "too many carbs". I was pissed, "what the hell?! Too many carbs?! Whatchu on the Atkins' Diet??" Bye Bye good samaritan, hello Xena, defender of NY bagelkind!) Generally speaking though, no, beggars cannot be choosers, but you are not a beggar, at least not a beggar of love from a man who doesn't want to give it freely. If you want to beg, beg grace from the almighty, I won't argue with that. Beg for patience and strength and the grace to be kind to others when it's hard. Beg for peace and acceptance and love for who you who have been made to be, beg for self-control to stop the bad habits and patterns you've fallen into (we all have them) and the perseverance to change into the woman you want to be. But beg a man to stay with you when he's already shown you that he doesn't want to? No. Don't wait for him to leave you (he probably never will- you give him everything and require nothing of him) don't walk on pins and needles trying your best to eliminate all of the things that you think make him uncommitted and uncertain about you, trying not to give him a reason to leave. You choose- choose love, choose life.
Now's the time in this letter for me to tell you all the reasons why you are worth loving and why you should "believe in yourself". But, I'm not going to- maybe I'm not in the mood, or maybe I know that it can't come from a letter from some stranger or maybe it's because I've never been good at gentle words of encouragement (kick in the pants being my preferred style). And maybe telling you to put on your big girls panties, and walk away is harsh. Or maybe it's exactly right.
Love and life,
From a friend.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)