As I contemplate shutting down the computer and heading to the gym, I’m recognizing my body’s soreness (the good kind) from last night’s yoga class. I got another email saying my latest yoga class card was about to expire. I couldn’t believe it had been so long already. I was determined not to let it lapse with a vehemence that arose as much from a desire for personal wellness as from sheer embarrassment.
It’s been quite a month. On the heels on my grandfather’s death, my grandmother passed away after a long and degrading illness. Grief mixed with relief at knowing her pain was finally over.
My relationship tripped, faltered and stumbled into a week long separation. The good news is that we’ve uncovered all sorts of baggage and bad habits and are well into our second honeymoon phase. And in the interim, I was supported by friends and family who made me feel safe and loved.
During all of this,though, I completely neglected my physical health. I stopped cleaning the apartment and watering the plants. I certainly wasn’t going to the gym, or following through with any self care or yoga. I began a torrid love affair with carbs.
As much as I hate to admit it, vanity is getting me back on track more than anything else right now. My blue mood led to gaining a pants size (or so). And now that I’m happily skipping rocks, I’d like to be able to put on a pair of pants.
So here it goes again. The treadmill, the yoga mat, the vitamins, the water, the apple cider vinegar. And in the meantime, dresses will have to suffice instead of pants.