Ever have one of those days where you didn't do much more than go from one mood to the next, generally before you had time to process said mood? I am not even sure why I insist on processing moods, I just do. Today was one of those days and currently the mood is very good. It's as if I've had too much and too little on my mind at the same time to make much sense of anything today.
So that's what we're doing, we are processing the various moods that flitted through my world today. I am working very hard at understanding my moods these days, as opposed to controlling them which often ends with the opposite result.
I suppose one of the benefits of being kicked off the island is that I now have time to sit back and think about these moods, or feelings, whatever term you are most comfortable with. I've found that the self reflection that comes almost without thought lately is both funny and enlightening in many cases.
I was kinda down in the dumps this morning, dreading "having" to go clean up the Kingston pasture, complaining about "having" to go to the grocery store. There was no real reason for me to take my mood out on the pasture or Albertsons for that matter because frankly I liked them both. I wasn't pissy cause I "had" to go to the grocery store and I sure wasn't pissy cause I "had" to go to Kingston, see two of the most beautiful horses I've ever met and spend an hour and a half exercising in the fresh air. I was pissy cause I wanted answers to questions that likely have no answers yet. That being said, I know the answers will come, I anticipated a slow process before the asking. It still makes me a little nutty and prior to my island departure I'd attempted to "control" these moods/feelings. The resulting behavior would likely have been the same, I'd have bitched about "having" to clean the pasture about "having" to go grocery shopping however I would not have thought so hard about why I was being so pissy. I'd have been pissy in my head, all by my lonesome, perhaps snipped at someone whom didn't deserve it or toss out a sarcastic remark at, or about, someone that didn't deserve it and pretend it was stress, and likely congratulate myself for my very sharp (and sometimes hurtful) wit.
Today however I thought about it and realized I was simply anxious for the answer to a question I didn't expect an answer for right away.
It helped that a friend sent me the littlebudda.com email about patience and waiting.
It helped that I've started this process of trying to understand rather than control.
I did not enjoy grocery shopping however it wasn't the act that I didn't like today; I've always loved to grocery shop. I've always loved to cook but I LOVE to grocery shop, always have. I didn't like it today because the budget wasn't "pretend", it was real and that pisses me off. It's been a long time since the budget was strict and not simply a guide line for my math games in the grocery store aisles. And that my friends pisses me off, I understood that standing there trying to decide between seven pounds of apples vs. five pounds of carrots. I felt much better once I got it; I didn't like it anymore than I did before the realization but I felt better.
I always enjoy Kingston and today was no exception. I understood what the problem was there well before I turned in the drive and hauled the wheelbarrow out of the truck. I started feeling all "poor me" about money and questions left unanswered and drifted into "and now you have to go shovel shit, lovely". I even spent half of the drive trying to come up with a cute t-shirt that stated something along the lines of "I might shovel shit but I sure don't take it". Silly no? Yes. It's not about money, it's not about shoveling shit, and the situation is a far cry from "poor me". I still went there for about half the drive. I did however understand my silliness; I resent this starting over bullshit etc etc. And sometimes even though I chose this starting over bullshit I get pissy about it. I did cheer up the minute I pulled in the drive and unloaded the wheelbarrow because honestly there is no where I'd rather be then taking care of "the ponies" and sucking the joy out of that for myself was downright hurtful.
After I finished in Kingston I went to a consignment store I had driven by many times. I have no jeans that fit right anymore. Well I have one pair that I feel decent in and maybe three others that technically fit; one of which fits for about five minutes than sags off my ass and two that I've hated since I made the mistake of buying them about four years ago!
I debated if I ought to stop, did I really "need" jeans? I don't go anywhere, I can do laundry every day if I want to (not that I do), no one cares but me that my jeans are falling off my ass. I stopped, I care and today that is enough for me. I don't care to the point of hurting the finances however I was talking a consignment store.
Long story short, after I stopped arguing with myself I pulled a couple pair of jeans into the dressing room, one was too short in the leg and one fit perfectly. I put the one pair back and paid a mere 10.85 for the pair that fit perfectly. There is nothing that feels better than a good fitting pair of blue jeans in my opinion. I was pretty damn proud of myself and unfortunately part of that pride came with the size of the jeans I had tried on.
Now I would have basked in the delight of a size three all the way home, not allowing myself to think too much about it. Actually that's bullshit, I did not want to think about why I was so pleased cause the part of me that refuses to shut up these days knew exactly why I was dancing about in the truck cab holding a bag that contained a new size three.
My mom called me before I could put the damned bag on the seat and start the truck. Eventually I mentioned that I "had" to buy jeans cause none of mine "fit me right" anymore. I hadn't gotten out of the parking lot before she was calling me on my bullshit. I offered up everything I could think of to counteract her point which was, there was still a part of me that LOVED buying a size three, and I hadn't even told her the size I bought (still haven't).
I blamed my brothers for calling me "Carol the Barrel" when I was a kid, causing this odd body image problem. She laughed and suggested perhaps it was control and not "the boys". I suggested that perhaps I wasn't losing weight just "redistributing" the weight. She laughed and told me that at least I wasn't claiming to weigh more than I did. I pointed out that physically speaking I did a lot more these days and we both agreed.
She was right, it was always control. The only difference today is that I am not controlling my weight (the inside) because I can't control the outside world. Today I know what I am capable of doing to myself so I don't "accidentally" or "subconsciously" drop weight.
I walked away (drove home) from that conversation knowing a few things, the obsession won't ever really go away however it does not have to hurt me. I can see it for it is and although I still think it's super cool to slip on a size three it is not who I am, it's not who I have to be, and if it is what my body is today I can sleep well knowing it's largely due to exercise and only a fraction is about control.
That's growth in my book :-)
So that's what we're doing, we are processing the various moods that flitted through my world today. I am working very hard at understanding my moods these days, as opposed to controlling them which often ends with the opposite result.
I suppose one of the benefits of being kicked off the island is that I now have time to sit back and think about these moods, or feelings, whatever term you are most comfortable with. I've found that the self reflection that comes almost without thought lately is both funny and enlightening in many cases.
I was kinda down in the dumps this morning, dreading "having" to go clean up the Kingston pasture, complaining about "having" to go to the grocery store. There was no real reason for me to take my mood out on the pasture or Albertsons for that matter because frankly I liked them both. I wasn't pissy cause I "had" to go to the grocery store and I sure wasn't pissy cause I "had" to go to Kingston, see two of the most beautiful horses I've ever met and spend an hour and a half exercising in the fresh air. I was pissy cause I wanted answers to questions that likely have no answers yet. That being said, I know the answers will come, I anticipated a slow process before the asking. It still makes me a little nutty and prior to my island departure I'd attempted to "control" these moods/feelings. The resulting behavior would likely have been the same, I'd have bitched about "having" to clean the pasture about "having" to go grocery shopping however I would not have thought so hard about why I was being so pissy. I'd have been pissy in my head, all by my lonesome, perhaps snipped at someone whom didn't deserve it or toss out a sarcastic remark at, or about, someone that didn't deserve it and pretend it was stress, and likely congratulate myself for my very sharp (and sometimes hurtful) wit.
Today however I thought about it and realized I was simply anxious for the answer to a question I didn't expect an answer for right away.
It helped that a friend sent me the littlebudda.com email about patience and waiting.
It helped that I've started this process of trying to understand rather than control.
I did not enjoy grocery shopping however it wasn't the act that I didn't like today; I've always loved to grocery shop. I've always loved to cook but I LOVE to grocery shop, always have. I didn't like it today because the budget wasn't "pretend", it was real and that pisses me off. It's been a long time since the budget was strict and not simply a guide line for my math games in the grocery store aisles. And that my friends pisses me off, I understood that standing there trying to decide between seven pounds of apples vs. five pounds of carrots. I felt much better once I got it; I didn't like it anymore than I did before the realization but I felt better.
I always enjoy Kingston and today was no exception. I understood what the problem was there well before I turned in the drive and hauled the wheelbarrow out of the truck. I started feeling all "poor me" about money and questions left unanswered and drifted into "and now you have to go shovel shit, lovely". I even spent half of the drive trying to come up with a cute t-shirt that stated something along the lines of "I might shovel shit but I sure don't take it". Silly no? Yes. It's not about money, it's not about shoveling shit, and the situation is a far cry from "poor me". I still went there for about half the drive. I did however understand my silliness; I resent this starting over bullshit etc etc. And sometimes even though I chose this starting over bullshit I get pissy about it. I did cheer up the minute I pulled in the drive and unloaded the wheelbarrow because honestly there is no where I'd rather be then taking care of "the ponies" and sucking the joy out of that for myself was downright hurtful.
After I finished in Kingston I went to a consignment store I had driven by many times. I have no jeans that fit right anymore. Well I have one pair that I feel decent in and maybe three others that technically fit; one of which fits for about five minutes than sags off my ass and two that I've hated since I made the mistake of buying them about four years ago!
I debated if I ought to stop, did I really "need" jeans? I don't go anywhere, I can do laundry every day if I want to (not that I do), no one cares but me that my jeans are falling off my ass. I stopped, I care and today that is enough for me. I don't care to the point of hurting the finances however I was talking a consignment store.
Long story short, after I stopped arguing with myself I pulled a couple pair of jeans into the dressing room, one was too short in the leg and one fit perfectly. I put the one pair back and paid a mere 10.85 for the pair that fit perfectly. There is nothing that feels better than a good fitting pair of blue jeans in my opinion. I was pretty damn proud of myself and unfortunately part of that pride came with the size of the jeans I had tried on.
Now I would have basked in the delight of a size three all the way home, not allowing myself to think too much about it. Actually that's bullshit, I did not want to think about why I was so pleased cause the part of me that refuses to shut up these days knew exactly why I was dancing about in the truck cab holding a bag that contained a new size three.
My mom called me before I could put the damned bag on the seat and start the truck. Eventually I mentioned that I "had" to buy jeans cause none of mine "fit me right" anymore. I hadn't gotten out of the parking lot before she was calling me on my bullshit. I offered up everything I could think of to counteract her point which was, there was still a part of me that LOVED buying a size three, and I hadn't even told her the size I bought (still haven't).
I blamed my brothers for calling me "Carol the Barrel" when I was a kid, causing this odd body image problem. She laughed and suggested perhaps it was control and not "the boys". I suggested that perhaps I wasn't losing weight just "redistributing" the weight. She laughed and told me that at least I wasn't claiming to weigh more than I did. I pointed out that physically speaking I did a lot more these days and we both agreed.
She was right, it was always control. The only difference today is that I am not controlling my weight (the inside) because I can't control the outside world. Today I know what I am capable of doing to myself so I don't "accidentally" or "subconsciously" drop weight.
I walked away (drove home) from that conversation knowing a few things, the obsession won't ever really go away however it does not have to hurt me. I can see it for it is and although I still think it's super cool to slip on a size three it is not who I am, it's not who I have to be, and if it is what my body is today I can sleep well knowing it's largely due to exercise and only a fraction is about control.
That's growth in my book :-)
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