Sunday, May 21, 2006
Mostly, there's just one bad thing about being in my late-40's--
I can no longer spend Tom's week-off eating Burger King, Mc Donald's and Taco Bell--and get away with it. No, it's official now... In my late-40's I pay mightily for that kind of devil-may-care behavior.
Last week I think I broke my hormones. Or, at the least, I think I knocked them all out of alignment.
Poor me...I have been paying. Aching joints. Sad thoughts. Snapping at Tom like a rabid dog. And there's been a sort of reunion going on in my head, one in which my old feelings of insecurity have returned for a riotous Old Home Week. I've found myself wildly thinking, "Must... have... more.... jade-ite.... Must... collect... more... than.... anyone.... else...."
"Must.... read.... more... books.... Must... have... the... longest... list... of... books... read... this... year..."
You know... those sickening, high-school-revisited feelings spinning in your head, driving you to catch-up with people (the popular kids) who appear to be more, have more and do more.
Well, that's not me. Not the real me. Not anymore, anyway.
So since yesterday, I've been giving myself a spa weekend. No, not at some fancy, schmancy place on a beach. Nah, just here at home. I'm trying in just two days, to get myself sane again. To re-align these old, abused hormones.
So what takes place at a spa weekend at Debra's house?
You sit outside in the sun, quietly, peacefully. You heal. You listen--to birds, to breezes, to God.
You use your trowel and putter in some garden dirt.
You take walks around the block and breathe-in deeply.
You read comfort books.
You eat good food. You eat from the list of foods which are good for your blood type and good for your moods. You do a little more research and print out lists which you take to the supermarket.
You drink glasses of water, fizzy and non.
You take your vitamins.
You take baths. You pray.
You watch old black and white movies.
You do not lecture yourself for having pretended you are still in your 20's and can get away with eating junk on a plate.
You give yourself a break. You treat yourself with kindness.
You learn from your mistakes and make hopeful promises not to repeat them.
And then you skip-hop back into Real Life wiser, healthier, more peaceful. And while there, you pause as often as you can to listen to birds, to breezes, to God... to never again stray so far away from common sense.