I bought a treadmill last weekend. I have owned it now for nine days. I have been on it ...uh, I'll be generous and say three times.
My pseudo granddaughter was on it more Saturday alone than I have sine we lugged it home (I use "we" euphamistically). Then again, what seven-year-old could resist what is essentially an escalator in your own living room? Even her stuffed puppy took a ride or two.
But I digress.
I also got a fancy gravity lift thingie that is really quite fun. I've been on it, um, say five times. The first time it hurt me. There is a plant on it right now.
This morning I intended to be good (Mondays are just like that)and set my alarm for 5 am. I finally dragged my ass out of that nest of a bed at 7. Then for breakfast my man fixed me giant slices of french toast (with the bread he made yesterday) slathered in syrup.
In the midst of another child emergency at lunch today, I scarfed a bowl of honey-nut cheerios. We're on a carb roll now!
Later the inevitable carb overload - I want to eat my arm - hunger kicked in and I ate what was supposed to have been my lunch in the first place - a nice, healthy Kashi frozen meal (Lemon Rosemary Chicken). It was yummy, but still not enough so I continued on with the yogurt and the carrots and everything else in sight. Because what I really want is chocolate and damn if I don't wish I hadn't discovered the vending machine down the hall with its siren chorus of kit-kat, reeses and snickers voices.
Because I know I will go home and eat what my man has lovingly fixed for me, which will inevitably be fried and accompanied by potatoes, probably also fried.
I'm doomed.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Friday, February 2, 2007
Full moon part 2
Today was a big day. Groundhog day and all. Our local prairie dog may or may not have seen her shadow this morning. It matters not. At the time she deigned to look it was around twenty below zero. Spring ain't comin' any time soon, that's fur shur!
BRR!
It was also a big day because I found myself sitting on a counselor's couch. (Which is WAY comfy. If he wants to get people out of his office on time, he'd better switch.)
The event had been planned for ages as a way for my honey and I to get some perspective on our relationship and some new tools for improved growth. Calling in a specialist to help us clear our garden of rocks, etc.
Well, my man couldn't come. He hadn't slept in nearly 30 hours by the time of the appointment, what with helping baby calves be born and live through the nasty shock of leaving a cozy one-hundred degree nest for negative 30 degree exposure. Poor babies. {I have officially been in Wyoming too long. Or I've officially become a Wyomingite. What's with the "what, with helping"? What happened to my grammar??}
So anyway, I went on my own, which turned out really really well. It was supposed to be a consultation to see if the two men could get along (I already knew the counselor). Consultations are normally 15 minutes. My comfy ass didn't shut up for nearly 90. Whoops!
It was a really great conversation and he highlighted for me some of the things I am doing to sabotage my relationship and also my own well-being. Top of the list is feeling the need to carry the responsibility for other people. {That train's leaving the station, so get yur bags and get OFF, other people's crap.}
He also referred frequently to a psychologist named Schnarch, which I have to admit kind of sounded like a dirty word to me at first. But Schnarch's theories are pretty right-on. Basically he says we are defined by our relationships. How we react to them is the primary driver of our own personal growth.
I was also fascinated to hear about the idea that all the self-help talking and reading in the world doesn't do anything. I was surprised at first, but once it sank in it made a lot of sense. Only experiences can really "retrain" our brains. Talk never leaves the cerebral part of the brain where we toss around ideas and think about things. Experience, by contrast, maps how we react to situations and controls what choices we make. Apparently this has all come out of studies of post-traumatic stress disorder. Fascinating.
"Talking will not fix it," says mr. smart man with nice couch.
"Huh," says intelligent, articulate woman sitting on it. "Hmmm. How 'bout that."
He left me with a parting gift: a small business card he clearly keeps handy because there are lots of people like me who are more fragmented than differentiated. Look at me with all the lingo.
So here's the nuggets of wisdom in case you don't get a chance to sit on the comfy couch.
Four characteristics of the differentiated self:
1. A clear sense of self in the presence of the other
2. The ability to regulate one's own anxiety.
3. The ability to remain no-reactive to partner's anxiety.
4. The willingness to tolerate pain for growth.
There ya go! Now go differentiate yur bad selves!
- keepin it real, here in Wyomin'.
BRR!
It was also a big day because I found myself sitting on a counselor's couch. (Which is WAY comfy. If he wants to get people out of his office on time, he'd better switch.)
The event had been planned for ages as a way for my honey and I to get some perspective on our relationship and some new tools for improved growth. Calling in a specialist to help us clear our garden of rocks, etc.
Well, my man couldn't come. He hadn't slept in nearly 30 hours by the time of the appointment, what with helping baby calves be born and live through the nasty shock of leaving a cozy one-hundred degree nest for negative 30 degree exposure. Poor babies. {I have officially been in Wyoming too long. Or I've officially become a Wyomingite. What's with the "what, with helping"? What happened to my grammar??}
So anyway, I went on my own, which turned out really really well. It was supposed to be a consultation to see if the two men could get along (I already knew the counselor). Consultations are normally 15 minutes. My comfy ass didn't shut up for nearly 90. Whoops!
It was a really great conversation and he highlighted for me some of the things I am doing to sabotage my relationship and also my own well-being. Top of the list is feeling the need to carry the responsibility for other people. {That train's leaving the station, so get yur bags and get OFF, other people's crap.}
He also referred frequently to a psychologist named Schnarch, which I have to admit kind of sounded like a dirty word to me at first. But Schnarch's theories are pretty right-on. Basically he says we are defined by our relationships. How we react to them is the primary driver of our own personal growth.
I was also fascinated to hear about the idea that all the self-help talking and reading in the world doesn't do anything. I was surprised at first, but once it sank in it made a lot of sense. Only experiences can really "retrain" our brains. Talk never leaves the cerebral part of the brain where we toss around ideas and think about things. Experience, by contrast, maps how we react to situations and controls what choices we make. Apparently this has all come out of studies of post-traumatic stress disorder. Fascinating.
"Talking will not fix it," says mr. smart man with nice couch.
"Huh," says intelligent, articulate woman sitting on it. "Hmmm. How 'bout that."
He left me with a parting gift: a small business card he clearly keeps handy because there are lots of people like me who are more fragmented than differentiated. Look at me with all the lingo.
So here's the nuggets of wisdom in case you don't get a chance to sit on the comfy couch.
Four characteristics of the differentiated self:
1. A clear sense of self in the presence of the other
2. The ability to regulate one's own anxiety.
3. The ability to remain no-reactive to partner's anxiety.
4. The willingness to tolerate pain for growth.
There ya go! Now go differentiate yur bad selves!
- keepin it real, here in Wyomin'.
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