Learning to Fly

So, the disappearance of supports comes at a time where elder takes flight. He works two jobs now, each gained through his own volition and abilities. He will co-present with me next week at a conference (At age 17 is already an experienced guest lecturer and presenter). He held his own as a school event last night. His peers were kind, over the kind of social anxiety that he is now just learning to have.

He's behind socially. He's always been.

That said, he's blown the windows, doors, and roof out of every expectation ever had of him. He's in uncharted territory. Which is awesome and terrifying.

We're not at the summit, yet, but we can take a moment and enjoy the view....

Dawn of the 6th Decade

By my own reckoning, I shouldn't be sitting here.

I should have been dead dozens of times.

Yet, still here. God's not done with me yet. My kids are finally on the verge of independence, a place I never thought they'd get to. Elder starts his second job on my 50th birthday.  With a little guidance, he'll get through all the necessary hoops.  But I couldn't have planned any of the things that have happened for him in the last 6 months.

We've just been hanging in there. Doing the best we can. And I expect the coming days and years will be more of the same.

Putting myself back together

SO. I feel like the universe is asking me to pay attention to this stuff. Sometimes I feel like a bird flying against a building because all I see is the blue sky and not that it's just a reflection...I want the blue sky and I keep getting the glass.

Food is Fuel and Other Random Thoughts

I'm a foodie, and I cannot lie. I enjoy it, I savor it, it's a total sensory experience.

Food is also a fraught thing. I know I'm not alone in using it as a pacifier, a band-aid, or relating it to all I've ever loved and lost.  It's a handy drug, needing no script.

The upside is also the downside. The more you consume, the more you need, the more you fall apart.

Despite my own doctor's admonishments, I kept on keeping on. I'd think about making any necessary changes to my life and eating habits tomorrow.

Until the scale started hitting alarming numbers, even to me.

So on January 1, I undertook the following project. Mindfulness. Watching what I ate. Making sure I hit the gym at least 3 times a week. Making sure I walk 10-13 thousand steps a day. Making sure I remember to breathe. The stakes are actually fairly high, putting aside the thought I need to live until I'm 150, anyway. I'm trying to manage 3, or 4, or 5 medical conditions on diet and exercise alone.

Here's the update on how that's working out for me:

• Down almost 20 lbs
• Wine and beer consumption down 61% (I did the math twice)
• Improved strength and mobility

It would be really nice to get down another 10 lbs, but I'm feeling good, and happy (or at least as happy as I can be),

It's not a diet, it's a complete change to the way I approach food and exercise.  For me, there's no separation of how I feel physically from how I feel mentally and emotionally. The problems haven't changed, but my ability to deal with them has, for the better. 

Other subtle changes that have coursed from this are more real-time, in-person interactions, more time spent out in nature (enjoyed stopping with my younger one last night at dusk to admire the colors of the sky and the song of the spring peepers), and generally a more spiritual awareness of how my attitudes and interactions affect other people. 

Bottom line:  think small. Start small. Create one new good habit a day and make sure you consciously make it a part of your life. Great things begin with a single step. 

Gaslight

In the monumental task of deconstructing all the strongholds in my life, there's the gaslight.

Gaslighting is a hot topic, because that's happening in the world writ large. But gaslighting has been going on in my own private Idaho much longer than that.

I find myself awake in the middle of the night, ripping out the rot that has settled in my soul, from years--decades, really--of people taking advantage of my better nature.

And then convincing everyone around me that it never happened. And that I was crazy.

This has been an ongoing affair.  And up until now, I've been quiet, because, you know, my sanity might get called into question.

Except now the price for my silence is my sanity.

You see my problem.

But, if I cannot speak, I can at least act. Actions speak volumes. I can choose not to engage.  Yet, choosing to not engage is not enough.  I feel the overwhelming urge to call bullshit.

Will choosing not to engage call bullshit loudly enough?

Time will tell.