Bring it - I'm ready

Friday morning. I was supposed to go to a Junior League Legislative Breakfast this morning - an opportunity to meet state and local legislators and begin the work that I'll be doing for at least the next year as a member of the political action wing of our chapter. I took the morning off, told everyone I'd be in by noon, and then toodled off. And then...then I came home, had a good old wallow in my desperation about my father and my life and every other important thing I could think of, and topped it all off with a steak and mashed potatoes dinner accompanied by a glass of a very fine 1992 Paso Robles Zinfandel.

I think I was hoping that the hearty food would somehow make it better, that I'd find that familiar, happy numbness, and surely the wine on top of it would just increase the chances of disappearing from this world - temporarily - that I don't seem to want to deal with of a sudden. Funny thing about hope is that hope is nothing without drive, without ambition. Hope on its own is just sad and pathetic. Which, incidentally, is how I felt after I'd finished dinner, watched my Netflix movie of the evening - Raising Helen, and headed down to bed. I think I'd gotten about two steps down the staircase when the tears came. Not graceful, quiet sobs, but great, heaving ones. I sobbed as I walked into my room, as I did my evening ablutions in the bathroom, and then, suddenly, as I was saying over and over again, "please no...please no", I had a sudden realization.

What I realized was that this is in God's hands, not mine, and that my seeming unwillingness to deal with reality was firmly rooted in a juvenile need to control everything which, of course, is simply impossible. I frequently believe that I am in control but that's just an illusion. The truth is that I can do anything with God's help but without Him - when I decide that, if only I try hard enough and worry enough and push enough, I can make things happen the way that I want them to - I simply can't attain my full potential. Many of you reading this may disagree with me, but this is my belief and it's built on 37 years of life, love, disappointment, and achievement, and I know it to be true for me.

So, where does that leave me? Well, I decided to skip the JL breakfast this morning and spend some quality time with me, which is just what I did. I got up early, I cleaned up the kitchen, I put together a breakfast from Starbucks (lowfat apricot-blueberry muffin plus nonfat decaf no-foam sugar free hazelnut latte) accompanied by some string cheese, and then I hit the treadmill. It was on the treadmill that I had my epiphany: It's time to finish this thing out. I've been diddling around with this fitness thing for months now - for whatever reason - and it's time to choose what I want, and what I want is a healthy life at a healthy weight, so it's time to get deadly serious and focus. When I decide there's something that I want and I get my priorities set up properly, nothing and no one can stop me. I cannot affect the outcome of my dad's surgery (next Tuesday morning at 7:30am Pacific time), but I can do what I need to do to take care of myself so that I don't end up the same way in a few years. I can set a good example for my dad of eating right and making movement part of my daily life. I can do this - I'm strong enough, I'm smart enough, and I know what I need to do.

So, as I said out loud while I was on my treadmill (to no one in particular): Bring it...I'm ready!