Interrupted

My Life Thus Far
2016-10-14 07:17:28 (UTC)

The Challenge Threshold

Even though I wrote earlier, my day just doesn't feel complete unless I write before I go to bed. I feel like talking now, I didn't really earlier. I felt somewhat blocked. Perhaps because I felt a little like I was writing out of duty, instead of from a place of genuine desire. I was doing it because I felt I should. Not to say writing ever feels like a duty (I'd just skip a day if that were the case), but there are definitely times when I feel pulled to write because my OCD hates skipping days! It's so silly. No one cares but me. I suppose that goes to show that I truly am harder on myself than anyone else could be. I even force myself to do arbitrary things. Like, write in my diary daily. I'm also very aware of how skipping one day potentially turns into two, which turns into abandoning my diary for 5 years, when really I need it more than ever (true story. I did that). Hindsight is 20/20, of course. I didn't see how much I needed it then, I'm fully aware now.

It was a lovely evening, just me and the little ones (Annie had work, dad was watching a movie on his laptop with ear buds in, and Snookums was napping before his graveyard shift). The power hasn't gone out yet (it's flickered a couple times), but at that time we thought an outage was imminent, so we scavenged the fridge for dinner. Eating what was left of the meals I made earlier this week. 13 bean soup, Mexican rice, veggie stir-fry, and tofu scramble. It was an interesting meal. They thought it was fun, making such strange combinations. I saw it as preventing waste. Because if the power does go out, all that food would otherwise be tossed.

Keenan asked for a fire. I pretended I was doing it for him, but really I had had every intention of lighting one. We lit our yummy fall candles (cranberry smash, pumpkin pie, and cinnamon roll), and hung out in the sitting room together. Kiki and Keeny worked on homework. I worked on that scarf I mentioned earlier. It's still a work in progress. A few more rows along, though. I might have made more progress if my yarn ball hadn't brought every cat from every corner of the house! I forgot how tough it is to crochet with 7 cats around.

Before I knew it, the babies bedtime rolled around. Which is when I do my very best to take care of myself. I swear, it's so hard sometimes. I can barely bring myself to shower on the really tough days. Everyone compliments me on my self-love and self-care, but I wish they could really know how I feel. How some days I hate the face in the mirror. How I wish I was anyone but who I am. How I want to run away from myself (which is so not possible). I oscillate between impeccable self-confidence and utter self-loathing. It has little to do with physical appearance, and everything to do with how I feel inside. Yet somehow that yuck feeling on the inside makes me hate the outside too. Today was an okay day. Other than battling some physical pain, the self-loathing was at a minimum.

My back is KILLING right now. Actually it's better than it was, but only because I did a full hour of yoga. Focusing on spinal twists, shoulder stands, and any pose my back seemed to respond to. At first I was feeling very restless and a little frustrated with my practice. Poses were sloppy. I was fighting the stretch (which can be challenging at times. Inducing discomfort when you're already uncomfortable makes for an unhappy frame of mind). I know that there is no growth without discomfort. Not pain. Yoga isn't about being in pain, but there is a level of self-awareness necessary to knowing how deeply to go into a pose. How long to stay there. How quickly or slowly to come out of it. The challenge threshold. I firmly believe that the pose you want to do the least, is the one you need to do the most. Tonight that was the back stretches and inversions. Particularly anything that targeted the lower back. Precisely what I didn't want to do, but needed the most. Instead of the usual 10-15 count. I held each pose for a count of 30, two repetitions, and a long rest in between. Either in shavasana or child's pose. I did my best to glue my belly button to the floor, and exhale everything out of my body. The restless messiness I felt in the beginning gave way to a feeling of achievement and appreciation for the improvements I'm seeing in my strength, flexibility, and patience. Each session I practice a little longer than the last. I'm sure that won't always be the case. Some days I won't be able to get in a full hour or more. That's fine. I'm just pleased at the fact that I have the patience to get back to that point. I'd lost it for a long time.

When I was done bending, I gave myself a good scrub down with African black soap (a delicious blend of unrefined shea butter, plantain, and the bark of a tree I can't remember the name of). It's ideal for problem skin, and for whatever reason my eczema is acting up something fierce. It's so soothing. Afterwards, I massaged in some Patchouli and Buriti oil infused shea butter, then rubbed a little Jamaican black castor oil on my eczema patches. I'm relaxed, clean, moisturized, and not itchy (for the moment). I hope this means I'll sleep well tonight. I've done my best today.




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