I have soooo many posts in draft and so many ideas for posts I want to write, but they’re not coming out today. Instead, today’s post is brought to you by serendipity.
Courtesy my stupid slipped/bulging/herniated/diffused (why are there so many terms for this?!) disc in my lumbar spine, I spent the whole day (12 hours!) marking, lying down in bed. I have a really good system for this, but that’s not what this post is about.
Anyway, my iPad was running low on battery and I can’t bend down to plug things into the power outlet (thanks, back!), so I plugged my iPad into my laptop to charge it and up popped iPhoto. And I was prompted to import this picture.
This is me, holding one of the little loves of my life, at her baptism (she’s cropped out seeing this blog is public)… My beautiful, divine, strong willed, fierce little niece. I love her and her twin brother so much that sometimes I feel like I’m going to burst just looking at them.
But that’s not why I’m posting this photo. I’m posting it because I aspire to be the person I was when this photo was taken. A person who is actually a lot like the baby in those arms and a lot like the amazing little person that baby has become. Strong willed. Fierce. Determined.
If you’ve seen me recently you’ll know I’m carrying a LOT more weight than I was when this photo is taken. But it’s not the lower weight that I aspire to.
At this time in my life, I was healthy. I cooked proper meals, went to yoga classes, worked out with a personal trainer at least once a week, saw a physiotherapist, and looked after my food intolerances by working with a dietician. I worked hard and was committed to my work, and I still worked long hours when I needed to, but I stopped living for work. A couple of times a week, I knocked off on time and then I went and kicked the shit out of a boxing pad or sat in my own little bubble of calm as I practiced my yoga breathing. I planned meals and I bought good, wholesome food, and more importantly, I cooked these meals and actually ate them.
I still had headaches (it happens when you’ve had a bad case of whiplash), but I rarely got sick and I had more energy. I could also tell you I was happy, but that wouldn’t be entirely true. In some ways I was. We’d just finished renovating our house, work was good, and I generally had myself sorted. But it was actually a pretty tough time (for reasons I won’t blog about here). But the thing I remember when I look at this photo was how *well* I felt. Well in mind, well in body, and well in spirit. I was the fittest I have ever been and I’d broken through the barrier of hating exercise and I actually (shock! horror!) liked and craved it. I went from vegetable-phobic (seriously, vegetables made me involuntarily wretch) to vegetable-accepting. I learned to cook. I did stuff for me.
And then I stopped. All of this stuff. Every last bit of it.
There are lots of reasons and even more excuses for why things changed. But today, this picture reminded me that I *can* be healthy, I *can* be fit, I *can* feel good, I *can* manage my pain (with less drugs!), I *can* have energy (beyond what I need to just plod through the day), and I *can* be deeply, truly happy with myself, with my life, and with how I feel in my own skin.
It’s not about looks (although that is a seriously good haircut I’ve got going on there!). It’s not about weight. It’s just about being committed to being healthy.
30 posts in June: 19/30