Heather O’s post over at MMW got me thinking…
I’m basically lazy. Oh, I get tons and tons of things done- I’m creative to a fault- I have a million projects going at any one time, and I have more ideas for more projects than accomplishable in this lifetime. But… It happens in it’s own time. I’m just along for the ride- and when I try to force it, it’s usually a disaster.
My business comes in fits and starts. My pattern tends to be: let things go until I am burried, then open up a can of crazy and run like a madwoman. I do that with little things, like housekeeping, dishes, laundry- but also with big things in life. I waited until I was 29 to have a kid- then I had 3 of them in four years. See? It’s feast or famine.
In thinking about my struggles with my weight, this same pattern fits. For years I just float along, sitting in a big innertube floating down a fat, lazy river. Then, one day, something will click, and I decide I have to do something. That something could be Weight Watchers or any new diet- I’ll join a gym or go Jazzercize at the community center, beat my brains out, and start feeling pretty good. I’ll lose some weight and get some praise from loved ones. But this is a struggle. It’s a constant, daily effort to resist gravity and keep myself moving in a way that does not feel natural.
It feels like pushing an enormous Boulder up a mountain. I keep waiting for the point where “exercising” becomes part of my identity- like the way “artist” or “mother” or “good cook” have become threads in the fabric on who I am. Yet it just never happens. It always feels like pushing that Boulder is something I’m doing while waiting to get back to my real life. I’m strong, and I can muscle that Boulder a long way up the hill- but the problem seems to be there isn’t a place to set down and rest- a place where I can park the Boulder on my journey, enjoy a little time doing something else, and then pick back up and continue up the mountain.
I doesn’t seem to work that way.
What happens is, I want to pay attention to something besides the Exercise Boulder, and it rolls back down the hill, and I have to start all over. Or worse. It seems the people who manage to love their Boulder, well, that’s what their lives are about- pushing that damned Boulder. How do I push the Boulder, and still take some snapshots of the flowers on the side of the mountain? What if I want to have a camp fire, or swim in a sparkley alpine stream? Nope, gotta push that Boulder.
And for me, life is full of such amazing things, I get really tired, really quickly, of looking at the ass-end of a Boulder.