CHOOSE NOT TO
Back in April or so, during the deeper parts of the quarantine a strange peace came over me (and others). All of my businesses were shut down and a strange easy wave of “what’s the worst that could happen?” washed over me. I realized, not much. This was both invigorating and freeing in a lot of ways. Over the past month or so, the last salty remnants of that wave seemed to have dried and left a residue. Unknowns I guess have returned to being knowns and fear, in one shape or another, has returned.
I say fear but that’s not 100% right. It’s anxiety. It’s always anxiety, but I’ve been positioning it against choices. What are the things that I do everyday and what (fear) keeps me from doing what I know I should?
What I’ve realized is these choices are so small and simple, yet rooted so deeply in our psyches that they can feel giant and insurmountable. I refuse sometimes to do something that would take five minutes and alleviate the stress it creates.
WARNING! petty self loathing to follow.
I’m up about 15 lbs this year. I can chalk it up to drinking too much and age. I know I can both remove drinking and eating like an asshole very easily, but I don’t. I come up with excuses and just don’t. I also know I should likely spend time recovering from some tight hip issues and work on strength training. Again. I don’t. Why?
Why?
The reasons (excuses) we come up with are myriad, but the other day while considering a health program a friend and I discussed, it came down to “I choose not to.”
I choose not to.
Whatever other layers you want to mortar in are up to you but this is the crux of it. Period. Most of the time we decide we’d rather just do what we are doing and be pissy about a thing then take the necessary steps to improve.
I’ve found this year that goals aren’t working for me this year. I mean I still have them but it’s like my mind has finally convinced itself that they don’t really matter. That none of them matter. There’s some brutal truth in that but I’m not ready to “go sweatpants” just yet.
As I approach 6 months to go towards my 50th birthday, I’ve worked exactly none toward s the things I said I wanted to accomplish in this my 50th year on the planet. Y’all hear that?? It’s coming around the corner. It’s loud and whiny. You guessed it. It’s the “WAAAAAMMBULANCE.”
There is good news. There’s six months (and 21 days) to cross the 50 year old finish line with some of the goals achieved, though an about face is necessary.
Is there irony that this post falls on a Monday, aka, “start over” day? Maybe. It’s too soon to tell.
The baby steps are out again. Choosing “to” instead “not to” is on the menu. In the words of Animal House’s Dean Wormer, “Fat, drunk and stupid is no way to go through life.”
Guess I’ll choose something different.
#hugsandhi5s
