It’s true what they say about the best-laid plans, they usually go kaboom. So why do I insist on running my life according to self-imposed schedules and checklists instead of letting go, and letting God? Oh yeah, I’ve got OCD and must have things just so. “Just so” in this case was to plan every little detail for my cottage get away, from my flour, wheat, and sugar-free menu, to the topics I wanted to write about. Sounds well-organized and efficient, right? Wrong. The menu was smart, but controlling the creative process, wasn’t. I realize my time away wasn’t necessarily meant solely to write, but was imperative for my spiritual, emotional, and mental health growth… and I didn’t plan on that!
In researching for this month’s plan, I went from reading the 12-Steps, to subconsciously working through some of them, like Step Four, which says, “Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.”
Hmmm, a FEARLESS moral inventory of me… the REAL me. I’m not sure I want to face the things that cause me to hold on to grudges, pain, guilt, shame, anger, resentment, remorse, self-pity, or envy. Can I skip this step? I promise to do Step Two twice to make up for Step Four!
Step Five is even harder…. “Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact natures of our wrongs.”
The anxiety I felt just thinking about doing these Steps had me wanting to swan dive into a vat of marshmallows and eat my way out, or die in there! And it was for this reason alone, I realized I had to set my personal agenda aside, and work through these Steps. Clearly, whatever I want to suppress with food, was exactly what I needed to face.
I love ya readers, but I’m NOT going to admit the exact natures of my wrongs on the blog, but I will to a confidant when I return home, and have already done so with God this morning on the deck overlooking the lake. And you know what, there was no fire or brimstone… that came later.
I ended my confession with the Serenity Prayer and asked for release of the guilt, pain, and shame I still hang on to, and as I did, a hummingbird flew about 2 feet away from my face and startled the beejeebers out of me! I think it’s a sign to ditch the stringent plans, forgive myself, allow more joy into my life, and trust the journey of “searching for my (healthy mind, body, and soul) after”.
Now, this is where my post should end, but my day got weird immediately after my breakthrough. It has nothing to do with weight, but I think it will amuse you. Let me preface – I did not find it funny at the time.
Ahem, where was I? Oh yes, not even half an hour after the hummingbird (which I named Serenity) flew out of my life, did three teens with shotguns, sail in. They motored passed the cottage waving their guns, shouting, “We’re pirates! We’re pirates!” I lost sight of them as their boat sailed into the trees that obstructed my view, but it looked like they were headed right for our dock. Moments later shots rang out, magnifying across the lake. I jumped out of my skin, and prayed, “Serenity now! Serenity now!” while dashing into the house for cover.
I started packing like I was on high on sugar! They were still out there somewhere firing. Holy moly! There was so much to do to close up the cottage before I could high tail it out of there! (I know, I know, I realize the problem with my thinking here.)
The shots kept ringing out. Really?! I make peace with myself only moments ago, and now I’m going to die at the hand of three pimply-faced pirates, before I can enjoy one guilt-free day?!
I kept packing. I got everything piled by the front door and looked out the window at my car. MY CAR… OUTSIDE… where the pirates were! Thoughts were rushing through my head – and not one of them was, “You know what would help in this situation? An Oreo.”
I took a deep breath, grabbed the first of the four totes and zig-zagged to the car…. That’s what you’re supposed to do when you hear shots. ZIG, followed by ZAG. Repeat.
I zigged and I zagged three more times until the car was loaded, but I couldn’t leave as the dishwasher was halfway through its cycle. (Faulty thinking, but one thing is for sure, I’m dutiful, even in a crisis.)
Ah-ha! The garbage and recycling still had to go out! I grabbed the bags, zig-zagged back to the car, and peeled my 12 year old Honda Accord out of the driveway in a way that would make Starsky and Hutch proud.
When I got to the bins, a groundskeeper was tinkering with a tractor. He cocked his head, and stared at this dishevelled vixen zig-zag her way towards him holding a bag of recycling in one hand, and garbage in another.
I tried to play it cool. Then we heard another round of shots. The cool left me… I think it ran down my leg.
“It’s the first day of duck season,” he said.
Tell that to my pants, I said (in my head, of course). I nodded and walked straight to the car, but in my freaked out heart, I was zig-zagging all the way.
To view my Week 42 food journal, click here.
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