It's hard to focus on physical wellness - healthy eating and exercise - when my head and heart are in such bad shape.
I miss my kids. I miss living in a house they've always called home. I miss my cats. I miss my in-laws. I don't miss my ex, but I miss enormous swathes of the life we had together.
I've seen both of my kids within the last week. I had an especially good visit with my youngest, whose school is a long way away. We shopped for clothes and had a wonderful dinner and fussed with some things in his dorm room and had brunch and set up some things on his laptop, talking the whole time. And now I miss him even more acutely. We've texted every day this week, so it's not like we are out of touch. And I'll see him again two weeks from tomorrow.
But right now, that doesn't help. I want my babies back.
Thursday, February 26, 2015
Monday, February 9, 2015
Snowmageddon 2015
Snow day #5. Both schools and the gym are closed. The heat is on (it wasn't for last week's storm). The wireless is working. I'm in my pajamas. It's really no different from a non-Snowmageddon day, except my butt is pretty much welded to the sofa.
I live on a small hill. My driveway is flat and leads to a garage at the same level as the basement. Don't ask me how, but the garage is ancient, older than the rest of the house. The doors are old and cantankerous and threaten to fall apart if you so much as look at them wrong, so opening one is a delicate balance between yanking it hard enough to open it, without yanking so hard that you end up with a pile of matchsticks, Usually, I don't bother. I just leave the car outside and take stairs up the hill to the front door.
Before the first snowstorm, I piled everything in the garage at the very back and then attempted to pull the car in. To do this successfully, you have to verrrrrrry carefully push the door up as far as it will go, and slowly, so it doesn't bounce back down. And then you have to unscrew the antennae from the car, because is an extra four inches the garage door can't take. And then you pull in, inch by inch, because the door tends to slide back down and scrapes the hell out of the roof. And of course, if you go out, you have to go through the same thing, opening the door verrrrrrry carefully and backing out and then getting out of the car to close the door, walking on eggshells to get the stupid door shut but still intact.
And honestly, this is all too much work for me, so I'm staying inside.
Monday, February 2, 2015
Three Questions, No Answers
1. Why are my posts so long? Am I that long-winded in real life? Is there anyone I can ask who would give me an honest answer? Even if I did, would they be able to get a word in edgewise?
2. It's deeply repellent to me to find mindfulness studies in the Harvard Business Review (or any business review.) Mindfulness/mediation are - should be - about living more fully, right? Not so we can be more productive at work and increase someone's profits, right? Co-opting spiritual practices for profit makes me gag. Is this crazy?
3. If this MBSR thing works, am I going to forever regret not moving heaven and earth to do it all those years ago? Because that's the last thing I need.
2. It's deeply repellent to me to find mindfulness studies in the Harvard Business Review (or any business review.) Mindfulness/mediation are - should be - about living more fully, right? Not so we can be more productive at work and increase someone's profits, right? Co-opting spiritual practices for profit makes me gag. Is this crazy?
3. If this MBSR thing works, am I going to forever regret not moving heaven and earth to do it all those years ago? Because that's the last thing I need.
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