|I'm the blonde wielding the "weapon" which, incidentally, I keep by my bed.|
“I will not hide my tastes or aversions. I will so trust that what is deep is holy, if we follow the truth, it will bring us out safe at last.” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
[In celebration of Ralph Waldo Emerson’s 208th birthday… we pledge to write... #Trust30.]
Think of a time when you didn’t think you were capable of doing something, but then surprised yourself. How will you surprise yourself this week?(Author: Ashley Ambirge)
In high school, every single time I went to tryouts, I never thought I would make the sports team for that particular semester; which, had you known me in high school, you would realize was a completely ridiculous notion. Beth in high school = Jock. I was naturally athletic.
I remember finding out in first grade that our school had a “Sports Day” and I was fascinated. That day is when I discovered I could run a sprint faster than anyone in my class. Oh, I had been good at kickball and other P.E. Class (physical education) games but this was different. The next year, in second grade… at the age of seven, my friend A.S. and I trained for Sports Day. TRAINED. We took it very, very seriously.
Still, as I got older, every tryout was unnerving. Every one a chance for failure. Yes, every time I made a team I was truly surprised. [Except track, of course, but I assumed responsibility for track events personally. After all, track isn’t exactly a team sport. I was on a team but it was individual performance that mattered most. The other two sports of my choice were basketball and field hockey.]
Then I lost my mojo. The reasons are numerous. Among them are an incredibly difficult pregnancy in which I gained over 70 pounds, a generous amount of time spent in the bowels of self-loathing (aka: depression) and living with someone not so keen on the idea of me losing weight or rediscovering that mojo I was missing.
I have written here, on this blog, over and over again about how “now is the time” for me to take control. I will no longer allow the excess weight to define me. I will no longer use the pregnancy excuse or the inevitable bipolar medication weight gain excuse. True? Yes. Still excuses. I get fired up. I get ready to make a change. I stick with daily exercise and a healthier diet for two weeks… maybe a month… and then my good intentions fade into oblivion. I have motivation issues.
The urge to do this is reclaiming my every thought... again. Wouldn’t it be lovely if I surprised myself this week with the motivation of my seven-year-old self and the mojo to back it up?