As I pondered my writing of this post, I realized the tangents and rabbit holes that I found myself within. It took me a bit too long that what that meant, was a series. So here you have part one of this new series, "What Are We Doing?". Today's post will merely set up a scene. We'll see where this takes you...
School is back in session. What this means for me is that I definitely want to get my workouts done earlier. Okay, that's not true. As the sun takes its time to rise, I too would prefer to sleep a bit later. Although this summer taught me that I do not like to run when the sun is up, I still could afford a few more minutes in the comfort of my bed. The problem with that - I then workout when kids are heading to the bus stops. I know, that sounds pretty ridiculous. Who cares if the kids are at the bus stop? I do. They're obnoxious. Just today I was privy to hearing a girl screeching for no reason other than to hear herself screech. Who does that? My own daughter wanted to go outside and kick children for being so loud and obnoxious (gosh, I love her). For some reason, children forget that rules exist when it is time to wait for a bus. You might be thinking, "Where are the parents?" I'll just stop you there. That's a whole different rabbit hole that I don't feel like diving into right now. So I will just say, I don't know where they are, but if I did, it probably wouldn't do much good anyway. The reason why this post began is not because of the children at the bus stops, but more about the parents of those children. This week, I've had the joy of watching a mother carry her daughter's backpack to the bus stop. Two separate days I was close enough to them to witness. I don't know, maybe the mom just misses the days of throwing her backpack on and heading to the bus. It's all nostalgia. But all I wanted to do was rip the bag off of her back and tell her to make her kid carry it. Over the years, I've seen this a lot. Parents carry their kids' backpacks for them. They carry it to the bus stop. They carry it from the bus stop. They carry the bag from the house to the car. Stop. Just stop. Did we ever have help carrying bags from our parents? No! Our bag, our responsibility. Quit making excuses for your kids. It's too heavy. They have so many books. (They don't.) It's the size of them. (So get a smaller bag). It's a long walk. They already have so much. Blah. Blah. Blah. It may sound mean, but parents, stop carrying your kids' bags. If it truly is too heavy, take a look at what is in the bag and decide what doesn't need to be there. I've looked, most of the time, the heaviest thing in the bag, is their lunch bag. You can be all angry and out of sorts. That's fine. I'll take it. What I won't do, is enable my child. Yup. That's for part two. So stick around as I continue to offend you, and let me offer my perspective.
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This seems like a silly post to have to write about. Perhaps it will serve as a reminder. If it isn't, then I do hope you'll grow from it.
I have seen a great deal of people that seem to think that opinions equal truth. This is not the case. It has never been the case. It can never be. Truth is fact, not opinion. However, we convince ourselves that our opinion is the truth. We hear the phrase "Speak your truth" quite often. Or even, "My truth is..." That should make you think. As children, we learn truth versus opinion. It is very common from second grade on up to learn the difference between the two. It may start with something silly like knowing that a bear is not blue and flies in the sky, but it can get tricky. Snakes are scary. For some people that is completely true. For others it is not. Therefore, according to elementary education, that is not a fact. It is an opinion. Society has taught us that our opinions matter. They do. If my friend despises Japanese food, I'm not going to take them there. It isn't because Japanese food is bad. It is because I don't want my friend to sit there and not eat. My decision is made on her opinion. Simple. If I drive 23 mph in my neighborhood, someone might tell me I MUST slow down. That is their opinion. The law states I can go 25 mph. However, it is safer if I drive 20 mph. It isn't that their opinion is bad or wrong. It's just that it's an opinion, not fact. I am, by law, not speeding. Therefore, I am not in the wrong. We must, as a society, learn to separate our opinions from facts. We must learn to understand that just because it is our preference, it does not make it true, law, the end-all-be-all. It is still just our opinion. No matter how passionate we are about it, it is our opinion. Please do not get strung up that your opinion is right. Without facts and evidence, it is not truth. Once we learn to separate the two, we can better live our lives in a way that will be productive to society. I'll never forget the day I found out I had back fat. It was traumatic. Truly. I knew I had gained weight. I knew my belly was bigger. But I had never had fat on my lower back like that before. Ever. I didn't know what to do.
I was on a medication that made me gain weight. A lot. Quickly. I thought that it was just water weight, but apparently I was wrong. I was miserable. Love handles and back fat on a personal trainer are not what people want to see. So I decided I needed some changes. The first thing I did was ween myself off of the medicine. You may think that was crazy of me. After all, it was for my fibromyalgia. But the truth is, my body had become accustomed to the medicine. The pain was there. And the medicine made me foggy. I could fall asleep anywhere at any time. Worst of all, I was cranky (that's a lot coming from me). The medicine made me less human. I thought since the medicine made me gain weight that when I stopped taking the medicine I would lose the weight. I did... kind of. I lost about two pounds. So then I got on my calories. I dropped calories. And I lost weight. Then it happened. I did it. No, I didn't lose all the weight and get my abs back. I hit the dreaded plateau. So, I called in the big dogs. I hired myself to be my own personal trainer. I wrote out my workouts. I planned everything. I tracked all my food. And I found out I was in deprivation. I wasn't eating enough. Ugh. I added calories to my day. I gained some weight back, and then lost more! My workouts were stronger. I felt better. Things were coming together. And the back fat was gone. Recently, I tried to drop calories again. I lost a couple of pounds. But then I gained it back. I couldn't understand why. Then my belly got flabby. Not a fan. And it hit me! I was still in lower calories. You see, I can do a week or two at dropped calories, but that's it. Then I need to go back to eating. My body will keep the weight off and I stay lean. But when I deprive myself for any longer, my body rebels. Truth is, all our bodies do that. Maybe not in the same way, but it's all thanks to our brain. When our brain experiences deprivation, it makes us respond with binging. Not eating enough? Binge weekend. Not spending any money to be a good saver? Shopping spree. Not standing up for yourself? Goes on a rampage for the next 17 years to make up for taking crap from people. It's how our brains function. So I ask you: Where are you depriving yourself? Is the binge going to make it better? Life is supposed to be full, not deprived. On a fairly regular basis I wish that I had the talent of painting. I wish I could sit down at a canvas and easel with watercolors or acrylics and create the beauty I see in the world.
I've been known to be an early riser. I make my way to the bathroom to mentally and physically prepare myself for whatever workout lies ahead. I leave the bathroom, cross through the dark bedroom and enter the main house. I find my desk in the dining room and turn on the lamp. I open the Bible and hope that my mind is awake enough, and the Spirit strong enough to feed the goodness of God to my ever hungry soul. Then I begin the day. I take the dog for her morning walk. I exit my yard the same way every day. I turn east. There along the treetops is peace. And though some days may not be enjoyable, the majority of mornings greet me with a beauty that I cannot put into words. Dark skies lightening to a violet with stars speckled brightly. Deep hues call to me, while the dog pulls me along. Some mornings are a bit lighter and the sun is rising over those trees beyond in the east. The soft pink blending with the barely blue sky to let me know that everyone will be awake in my home upon my return. How I wish I could stop then and there to pull out paints and show the world the beauty that I saw. Some would say, "You could take a picture." That is true. And I have been able to capture a few gorgeous moments in the past. But I want more. Here I sit behind a keyboard and hope that I can display worlds to people that I've never met. I have read books that take me to far away lands and I feel myself a part of them. I have read others that leave me feeling lost. I cannot picture my surroundings. But I continue to sit behind the screen. I pray to make the words match the picture in my mind. I hope to show the world through printed word, all because I lack the talent to show the world in another way. This is all I know to do. I don't know if descriptions will ever be enough, but I do hope they are. |
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May 2023
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