Probably past time... Sorry for the absence (if you care lol). I have had to blog for work, so that takes all my writing time and brain power. Seriously though, I haven't even been able to keep up with that blog, so it's really a lame excuse. I feel unable to say how I really feel, or able to post things I know will piss people off, because of my business. It's really new to me, and I really don't like it. That doesn't mean I won't drunkely blast someone in a status on FB (I am still hearing about my comments after 3 beer about our local minor hockey association....), but I am so much more careful than I used to be. Owning a business sucks a bit.
I had a bunch written in my head about marriage, but now I want to punch my husband in the throat so I doubt anything I typed would be of great value.... I felt I needed to write something, but what?
Perhaps I should write about my apparent lack of time management skills. I feel like the last month is a blur of work, kids, kids sports, trying to clean and cook and drive everyone everywhere they need to go. I am not sure why I feel more out of control and like I have less time (I work 9 hours a week plus 2-5 admin hours. Where the hell does the rest of the time go?!?!). I simply cannot imagine working full time. It boggles my mind. I don't sit around and eat cake with my other mommy friends while we ignore our children, as my husband has suggested during a routine fight (see why I want to throat punch him?). I wish I did that. I don't workout for hours anymore either. I wish I could do that too. Then perhaps this late 30's body would fuck right off and I could look like ME again. Wait, that's wrong. I do look like me. I look like almost-38 years old me. I just feel sometimes like this skin doesn't fit. I haven't felt like that for a long time.... since I turned 35 ish, things have started to wrinkle, and dimple and sag. It's the typical aging stuff. Maybe I looked so much younger for so long that I just don't know how to deal with reality. The reality of coming up fast on 40. It's not like I cry myself to sleep about getting older, or approaching 40, but I do pull at my eyelids while waiting at red lights. I used to text, now I look at my crows feet and my puffy lids. I usually remember to check my upper lip hairs, but if I miss it please let me know.
Can't be old AND hairy. Speaking of, I need to go check the chin hairs. Those bitches are coming in fast and hard as well.
See how I went WAY off course there? As usual. start at one place, ramble a bit and end up who knows where... it's the way I roll.
I have been thinking a lot about radical self acceptance. Accepting oneself as exactly we are. This idea is so foreign to me, it literally took me months to even bring it into my consciousness. My lovely Yogini Michele brought it into a course I took from her. Promoting radical self acceptance. Yeah, the concept sounds so fabulous in theory- like signing up for a marathon or organizing closets. It sounds AMAZING, but how the fuck do you actually do it??? We all want change in some way. We all have ideals, and how we think things/ ourselves should be. I'm usually pretty good at creating paths to get where I (or clients) want to go. I am very much a Do-er. I am not a "let's talk about it at length"er. That is a surefire way to get me to flip out, or lose interest. But for this.... radical self acceptance. What the hell does that plan look like?
I don't have an answer. Sorry if you came this far and are now wanting to punch ME in the throat. I don't have a plan. I don't have an A-to - B map for you. Or for me. All I know is, I am thinking about it. Every day it gets a little stronger in my brain. Every day, when I am ripping into myself for something (weight, pants not fitting, saggy eyelids, workouts being less intense than they used to be, not being able to run because of my back, or because I am simply tired or whatever... ) I remember the idea of self acceptance. Every time I say it in a yoga class, the idea becomes just a little more clear, and I spend just a little less time in front of the mirror. A little less time holding up my ass to where it used to be, and realizing that where it is is really ok.
Maybe that is enough.
For now anyways.
