Oh, I know how this story goes, by now.
Step out...plunge into something new... the jitters, the doubt, the nerves... overcome! And then another, and another. And then... splat. Pie in your face.
Hello resistance, old friend.
So, I've been a busy bee. I am editing Wild Horses and Mistakes, going back to the beginning with a fine-toothed-comb... and in-between sections, to keep myself bubbly and moving along, I started a podcast. Cuz I just don't have enough to do. I mean, they made it look so easy, and it was! Not the most professional and polished thing ever, but real, coherent, even a little entertaining? I think so...
I'd also turned a corner with my workout routine. I've been lifting heavy and getting so dang strong. Last year was such a drag, literally, healing through injury after injury, and I was bouncing around like a nymph without pain. I was just so happy to not be in pain all over. And I still am. However...
The universe has a way of balancing things out. Or testing us...maybe.
I was, no-joke, doing the Travolta strut this morning. (Cue Saturday Night Fever theme...) It was one of those times where I just felt on top of the world. Just... alive, inspired, turned-on, motivated, calm, and balanced. And then lunch...oh, the lunch break. And this is where I caught pie in the face, or rather... asphalt in the palms, knees, elbows, ankles. I tripped while descending down my front stoop and tripped face-forward onto the blacktop. I managed to plant my pushup-strong hands into the pavement and break my fall pretty well, which was...pretty rad. But my left ankle took a mean twist. Yowsah.
So...there it is again. The start, the momentum, the challenge, the success! The fall on your face. Or...ankle, in this case. So, I've been here before. And I'd think... I need to slow down, take care of myself. Watch Netflix and eat Halo Top. And I would... and I'd get so far off course and far from my goals and from that sweet momentum, that I'd lose endless amounts of time and focus.
So, I'm approaching it differently this time. It's an ankle. It only aches when I walk on it, directly. I'll get X-rays and so on tomorrow, but I am by no means an invalid that needs bed rest. I mean, go crying to this guy, right:
I'm resting my ankle, I'm going easy on it. Yes. But I'm also doing what I can do... while enjoying the resting part. And I think that's the difference this time...setback as challenge, rather than as an excuse to loaf and lay around like a dirty sock. What if choosing to live more into every moment, regardless of fumble, WAS self-love? What if self-love was also not giving up on yourself and your goals... and wasn't just about candles and pampering and indulgence and soft synth music?
Here's what working out hard taught me... that I can do hard things. That I can persevere. That I can finish, even when I feel the urge to quit. That I can get stronger and grow more capable. That I'm tougher than I thought I was. That I'm still a stubborn tomboy chick from NY that can deal with life when it sucks. And it does sometimes. But it just feels so good...not to stop. To write. To read. To edit. To pack lunch for a four-year-old who just called me Wonder Woman, just now, watching me hop around the kitchen on one foot, laughing, while making his lunch. (Hey, it's like plyo...)
And for that... it feels worth the scrapes and bruises and sprains. To be a superhero to my growing boy who thinks... we can do things even if we fall down and get hurt. We can stand up, compensate, be smart, and do what we needs to be done.
Hello discipline. I'm listening. Onward...
PS...here is the podcast, below, if you're curious. Had a lot of fun with this, and will be posting new stuff every Monday. All things creativity, anxiety, and all the bits in between...stay tuned.
And um... yeah. Here ya go. ;-)