2011 is over. Mostly. 99% over. And I say good riddance. I won’t dwell on the things that didn’t happen that I wanted to happen. I won’t dwell on what is negative and painful and in the end, inconsequential. There really isn’t even anything to rehash here, that was how boring the year truly was, and in some ways I pity those few of you brave enough to have made this voyage with me. We have made it. Posted once again 500 words every single day. Sort of like the postal service, only without the jazzy uniforms. It is possible. This is what it proves. It – whatever the thing is that you want to commit to – is possible in one day increments.
Today we made the usual decisions. Tomorrow, everything changes. Tomorrow, everything is new and fresh and we exist with purpose once again. I rode with my sister to her traveling job, not wanting to sit at home with my glutinous thoughts and before our first stop, I got a call from my mother who has been in talks with the great whatever (she and somebody have been parleying about something) and has decided that she would like to help me “get on track.” It’s a funny thing because on the face of it, it seems rather overbearing that my slender mother would decide that she’s going to make my resolutions for me. But that crashes right up into my determination to do this anyway and wanting her support, wanting that thrust of energy and planning and shopping and kitchen space and…belief. Knowing that helps. But. She wants me to do low carb. That’s a very different plan than the one I have going. Very different and I know that works, but like anything, it works when you stick to it. It doesn’t work if I decide I want a ricetastic Chinese dinner for my birthday with red velvet cake – which I do – or a drink now and then or to be able to deal with the standard deviations that come with real life food eating. And I know that I have to be able to say no to things, I just want to do this on my own terms. So I told her tersely, I’d call her back.
And I thought about it for a couple of hours. I can’t throw off the plan I’ve invented just because my mother wants me to lose weight in the manner she thinks is fastest/most effective. I have to remain functional. I have to remain grounded and alive and I have to resolve myself to the epic struggle of changing my habits. So eventually I called her back and think I found away to ask her to still help me and let me have some room to do this full-throttle my way. And she didn’t lose her very sweet enthusiasm, which relieves my poor daughter’s heart.
So we’ll see. We’ll see because I’ll show.
It doesn’t feel like the end. It just feels like a new day. A new chance. A new beginning. Everything is a little bit sorta more possibler. I don’t want to waste it by
Guitar. Orlando. Mumford. Writing. New floors. Clean, happy house. Driving fearlessly. Smiling inappropriately. Laughing myself out of trouble. Having way too much that makes me happy to do to worry about eating myself sick.
Just give it another go, darling. Give it another go.