A Work In Progress

"This life therefore, 

is not godliness but the process of becoming godly, 

not health but getting well, 

not being but becoming, 

not rest but exercise. 

We are not now what we shall be, but we are on the way. The process is not yet finished, but it is actively going on. This is not the goal, but it is the right road. 

At present, everything does not gleam and sparkle, but everything is being cleansed." 

--Martin Luther

If You Want To Be Somone Else, Change Your Mind

There is a great, I mean great song by Sister Hazel called "Change Your Mind."

The chorus offers these magnificent lyrics to the listener:

If you want to be somebody else,
If you're tired of fighting battles with yourself
If you want to be somebody else
Change your mind...

And so, recently, I've been doing some mind-changing.  And I think it's changing my life.

Two things are helping me in my cause.  Actually, I should say, two people.

The first is Dave Ramsey.  Apparently lots of people know about this guy, but I just recently heard about him for the first time.  I've got my hands on a copy of his "Financial Peace University" lectures, and it's just possible that he is completely changing the way I think about the way I spend and save money.  Just by listening to him, I feel like I might be able to have a little more control over my finances if I wake up, pay attention, and DO what he is telling me to do.  (Wake up, woman!  This is YOUR life!!)

The second is my Grandma.  She's 95.  One of my heroes, because she is so sharp, so clever, so organized.  AND she drinks bourbon at 4pm every day.  Brilliant.  She possesses lots of qualities I'd like to have, but don't ever seem to be able to acquire. 

Recently, she was going through some jewelry and tried a bracelet on my wrist.  When it didn't fit around my wrist, I said to her "I have really big wrists."  (That is actually true.  I've never been dainty.  And it's not like fat really collects at the wrists.)  At this moment, she stopped, looked up from the bracelet right into my eyes and said without flinching, "You Need To Lose Weight."  "I know," I said, cheeks red, heartbeat quickening.  And then as suddenly as she said it, she went back to the jewelry.  The moment was over.  I wanted to cry.  Run out of the house and not come back.  Get out of there before tears bubbled up.  But I took a deep breath, had a little moment while she looked through the jewelry and went on.  It was a horrible, horrible moment.  I was angry at her, then angry at myself, then angry at her again.  That cycle continued for....oh wait....I don't think it's done yet.

And so, on return from the vacation that included the visit to her, I started to get serious.  The C25K running began again in earnest.  Fruits and vegetables were purchased at the grocery store.  The remaining oreos that were purchased for my husband's class at the beginning of the week are, miraculously, still in the cabinet.

I'm starting to change my mind.  I'm starting to think about taking care of myself.  For the sake of a daughter who needs a good example.  For the sake of my Grandma who dared to tell me the truth.  For the sake of me, who needs to be healthier and needs to wake up, take control, and change my mind.

Disney sponsors a Princess Half Marathon in February.  It might be the perfect excuse for a winter getaway. 

Maybe even bigger changes are just around the corner.

One step at a time.

Okay. Break's Over.

It all started a few weeks ago.  I came downstairs to find that the washing machine had been agitating for over an hour while my daughter was going to sleep.  (Scratch that....while my daughter was not going to sleep.)  The timer was just sitting there at the same place it had been when I had started the machine.  "Hm.  Weird," I thought.  The next morning, the next load, same business.  I had to gently nudge the machine to do its appointed task every 15 minutes or so.  If not reminded to stop, it would keep spinning and spinning and spinning for lengthy periods of time.  A call to the local appliance place gave us the sad news that this would be at least a $200 repair. 

So that turned into appliance shopping.  Another few days of researching, shopping, asking around for recommendations.  Two nights before they delivered the flashy new washer (and dryer....thanks to my Grandma's recommendation), I realized how much work it was to unload everything out of that tiny room.  And then I remembered the overwhelmingly deep desire to paint it only moments after beholding its formerly stenciled glory. 

Quickly, a gallon of paint was purchased.  A friend was called.  Late night hours were kept.  All in an attempt to get at least the corner painted where the machines would be.  Everything else could wait until after the delivery.  And did.

Being the mother of a toddler means that big projects such as these only get accomplished during the two hour window between her bedtime and mine.  And for at least a week, she did not cooperate on her end of this.  So the painting took longer than expected and was only completed by a dear friend who knew what he was doing and took matters into his own hands.

And then it was time to hit the road for vacation.  10 days.  One vehicle.  Two suitcases.  One gigantic box of snacks for the road.  One toddler who graciously took up as little room as possible to make up for all of the stuff that was required to travel with her in the first place.  Countless tote bags.  Countless tote bags.  (God bless you, sweet husband.  You're a patient man, and the best packer I've ever met.)  Three people visiting family and friends alike.  

All this to say that since the day that the washing machine kept on agitating, there has been no blogging.  No plumbing the depths of my emotions to figure out how to clean out my messy life. 
Lots has happened in that time.  Lots of new stuff has now been imported back to our little yellow house in the woods and so the boxes have, once again, grown, much to my chagrin. 

But I am renewed, refreshed, and ready to begin again.  As all journeys go, this one has had a bit of a setback.  But tomorrow is a new day, and I have big plans.  Bigger than what I've ever been able to accomplish before.  Break's over.  Time to get back at it.

C25K

Another goal of mine during this year-long decluttering process is to get off my butt a little bit more than I generally do.  So since today was a national holiday on which I had absolutely nothing planned, I decided to go for my normal walk.  

I've been considering the Couch Potato to 5K Running Program.
  http://www.coolrunning.com/engine/2/2_3/181.shtml
A number of my friends have tried it and successfully found themselves running 5Ks or even doing triathlons.  I've toyed with the idea of doing it, but never been able to really commit.  (This is normal for me.)  So a few days ago, I decided I'd never EVER commit to running if I didn't wear a sports bra while I was walking, so....sports bra:  check!  This morning, I had everything I needed:  baby in a good mood, socks and running shoes, water bottle, loose-fitting but moderately attractive workout wear, and the all-important (some might even say "sacred") sports bra.

On my way to my running location, I noticed a small group of about 7 people running.  Another block of driving and a glance to my left showed me that there was a full-fledged event taking place and those runners I had just seen were part of it.  This was my sign, I thought.  It's time to get my butt moving.  Today.  Looked up C25K on my smartphone and started running for 60 seconds, walking for 90, alternating for 20 minutes. 

Long about minute 15, I was pretty sweaty.  I stopped at a stop sign to let a pick-up truck pass (I never ever want them to let me go first, because then they'll have to wait for my sad, lumbering self to run across the street...) so I waved the driver on.  Pretty sure there was nothing close to a smile on my face as I did this.  And then, lo and behold, a sparkling silver moment in my day.  A smiling man leaned out the window and said "Keep it up, mom.  You're doing great!"  Big smile.  "Thank you!"  Motivation to finish the last five sweaty minutes:  check! 

Funny how sometimes the right thing comes along at the right time just when you need it.  Everybody needs an "atta-girl" sometimes.

Dear Mr. Pick-up Truck Man, Could you please come out on Friday and say that to me again? 
P.S.  You made my day.

A hole in my yoga mat

Years ago, I had a PM Yoga program on a VHS tape that I loved.  A soothing female voice told me how to stretch and relax at the end of the day while I watched her do those stretches in the middle of a calm desert scene.  It was absolutely lovely.  And every time I did the program, I felt like I had done something wonderful for myself.  I started wanting to do more yoga.  I bought a lovely deep-purple yoga mat.  And I used it.  For a while.

And then life happened.  I moved the yoga tape with me, every time I moved, and it sat with all the other unused workout tapes.  Same story for the yoga mat.

Recently I've noticed that my temperament is not where I'd like it to be.  I feel myself getting angry over small, stupid things.  I yell easily.  I say horrible things to myself in the mirror about my expanding body.  In short, I don't like the state of my spirit.  I want to feel more joyful, more buoyant, more like me.  So, I've been trying to do some little things to help. 

I tried to find my beloved PM Yoga on DVD, but no luck.  So, I took a wild risk and found a new one.
The new DVD has a different scene:  a lush garden with an ocean vista in the background.  Purples, pinks, greens.  More like me than the last one, for sure.  Similar soothing voice.  Similar program.  Similar feel-good-feeling when I'm done.  Nice.  Just one problem.  Where is the yoga mat?  I remember it got put downstairs with all the fitness equipment.  It's got some crud on it, so I throw it in the bathtub to bring it out of retirement.  I spread it out to let it drip dry and what should I find? 

A hole.

A hole in my yoga mat.

A hole that I can only imagine was chewed into being by one of the tiny critters that occasionally stops into our home for a break from the outdoors.

I don't like what a hole in my yoga mat says about my fitness regimen.  I think it's saying not only has my purchased equipment been getting rusty and moth-eaten, but my body's equipment has been doing the same.  Clothes aren't fitting.  Muscles are feeling stiffer and unused.

So, I'm doing my PM Yoga as a single step toward a better me.  If you think this has nothing to do with a spiritual decluttering journey, think again.  Two nights in a row, I did this soothing evening meditation, complete with pleasant feelings that go with looking at a lush garden with an ocean in the background.  Good stuff.

Last night, I got ready for company.  I got some clutter stacks out of the way that I've been trying to go through, dusted, laid out the ingredients for making dinner the following day, bookmarked the recipes I was going to use, and even set the table the night before.  This is the kind of thing an organized person does.

Behold the power of a little PM Yoga. 

So...there's a hole in my yoga mat.  It's probably going to get put in the trash, because I'll never be able to do yoga and not think about a mouse hanging out right where that hole is....but maybe that little hole is the springboard I needed to remember not to let caring for myself be low on the priority list.  After all, I'm worth more than a yoga mat.  So are the people around me who have to deal with Grouchy McCrankypants whenever she shows up.  So, here's to a new day full of soothing music and mindful breathing.  Namaste backatcha, yoga lady.

Blogging for Bucks

Just saw a report on blogging that reported a woman who started a blog after receiving a personal challenge ("you can't make any money doing a blog...") and now employs 12 people doing her blog.

Um...holy crap.

Here's hoping.  I'm hitting the shredder.  :)

A Comparative Study of the Similarities Between Doing Puzzles With a Seventeen-Month-Old and DeCluttering OR Things That Make Me Think I Could Develop a Drinking Problem

Occasionally, my seventeen-month-old notices the puzzles that are sitting in the entertainment center and decides she wants to pull them out and play.  And by "play," I mean take the pieces out and scatter them across the living room, and then bring out some books that she will angrily grunt at until they are read to her. 

When I think she has tired of the puzzles, I decide to try and return them to their proper home.  After putting a few pieces back into the big wooden base, she notices what I'm doing, promptly approaches me, and starts taking out the pieces that I have just put in.  So I start working faster.  And so does she.  And soon, I simply give up and leave the pile there until after she goes to bed, because I realize that the entire effort is completely futile.  Because of this, my living room is frequently not company-ready.  And if anyone were to criticize me for having puzzles out for a toddler, well....they would receive the verbal lashing of their life.  At least in my head.  Potentially out loud, depending on the level of sleep I'd had the night before.

This same principle seems to apply itself to my clutter.  As soon as I've decluttered an entire box of crap...suddenly there's another stack sitting on my desk, just waiting to be put into yet another box..and wait for a few years to go by before it's placed in the garage or on the moving truck.  YIKES.  I hate this pattern.  Hate it. 

I don't think this is unlike a lot of problems in life.  Ask anyone who has been through a twelve-step program and they will tell you that there are setbacks, cycles, ups-and-downs.  That every day they have to start fresh, admitting they have a problem, and that they submit to a higher power for help.

For those folks, there are meetings to go to, people to call in a crisis, coaches, counselors, helpers.  For clutterbugs, there are no twelve-steps groups, no meetings, no counselors.  Just book after book after book on clutter-busting, that if you spend the time to read, another pile will pop up as if magically while you sat down to read the book...about organizing.

I'm not whining and asking for a 12-step program for people with clutter problems.  (Because undoubtedly, one could possibly show up in the world.  I know there are other people like me out there.)  I'm just saying that no matter who you are or where you've been or where you're going, there are likely to be some things that you do that aren't the best or healthiest things you could do.  It could be alcohol, drugs, food, or even clutter.  It's just a matter of every day getting up, looking yourself in the mirror and asking God for the strength to make your life a little better instead of backsliding once again.   

So I'll let my daughter pull out the puzzles....because no matter what, she's learning.  And little by little, so am I.