In the recesses of my mind, insecurity lurks that you’ll bore of me – how can you not?- and toss me aside like an old toy. This leads to my fear that I can’t keep up with this blog or stay close to the people in my life.
What do they get out of hanging with me? Earlier, I wrote this piteous toilet paper stuck to my shoe, thought down, hoping to understand it. But still, I don’t. Why do I question the essential relationships in my life?
I’m in a stomp my foot, cross my arms, and stick my tongue out kind of mood. The kind where I’ll send “Valuable Feedback” to a company to share how I feel about their policies. Specifically, the YMCA and where they can shove their $50 membership fee.
Knowing me, I’ll pay for it. But not before I vent and complain, send a strongly worded email and add my “it’s about the principle of it” to this post.
Blistex, my hero. I’ll return to what I was saying momentarily, but first, isn’t chapstick the best? The fall’s chill has been especially hard on the ol’ smoocher, so the medicated numbing with the to-die-for icy hot-like smell is magical.
Earlier I wanted to plunge my wriggling, chittery body and legs under a rug, into the darkness, and into the nothing, to find a place where there’s zero responsibility or care. Now, I’m better, back online, and grateful to be more like me.
In session today, I got a big thank you from a client for helping them restore a relationship with their mother. Where once she would demand and control situations, she’s since learned to create a safe place in herself, and in doing so, she has become thoughtful of the timing, location, and how she comes off in conversations.
If you know me, you know I get excited and invested and am like a kid in a candy store when dreaming up ideas. And however extraordinary this excitement may be, I become borderline neurotic. After going to the moon and back researching workout equipment ideas, I’ve landed back down on earth and I am – drum roll, please –
I mean, I’ll add myself back to the YMCA membership and put a yoga mat, weights, and a mirror (all things I already have) in the bedroom. But that’s it.
No huge monthly contract at OrangeTheory Fitness or joining the Peloton cult camp for me – all of which is a relief.
Well, thanks for being here! See you tomorrow.