Weeding. Ughhhhhhhh.
We bought a new construction house that was built almost two years ago. The builders sodded the yard and while we've had the boasting golf green of a lawn these past two years, the grass grows quickly.
Like, if it even thinks of raining 100 miles from here, Jack has to mow.
A side effect of this awesome lawn is that it frequently encroaches on the bricked-in flower and shrubbery beds I lovingly created last year. Time to pull those bastardly grass roots from my landscaping.
Whenever I complete this particular chore, I'm sore for approximately 5 days. And 13 hours and about 20 minutes. So I have to plan it accordingly, when I don't have to do a lot of squatting, standing, or stairs.
It's probably a sign that one should exercise more when such weeding makes one afraid to have to sit on/get up from the toilet. Eek. Yes, I just said that.
So there I go this morning, weeding the flower beds. Because everything has been neglected for a while (thank you school and wicked crazy job), the weeds were overgrown and the roots ran deep. As I sorted through them, using my bare fingernails to isolate the weedy offenders, I got to thinking. As much as I need to weed my flower beds, I need to weed my soul. And my emotions. And my physical presence.
All of the stress of these last few years have taken their toll on me. I'm about 10 pounds above my favored weight (okay, maybe 12. 15?). I love my "new" body but I really cannot afford to purchase several suits in my volumptuous size. Seriously...curves rock and I've never really felt sexy before this point in my life. But my entire wardrobe is one size and I finally caved and purchased a few pairs of black dress pants in my "more lovely" larger size. I really don't care...I have made it this far in my life and if people are going to judge me for my body, go ahead and judge away. I have nothing to prove to anyone. If I'm at home in my body, that's all I have to worry about.
Pontificating aside, I want to feel better. I want to be able to randomly run a mile or two without dying or thinking my limbs are going to turn to pure, white hot ash as I push my body into some oblivious state of crap bag. So this "physical weeding" involves the uprooting of some not so healthy habits. I love midnight nachos. Midnight nachos have gotta go. One of my BFF's, Nurse Starbucks, agreed to help keep me accountable. No nachos. Oh, and no Cadbury eggs that I *may* have stashed in case a rainy day presented itself. More exercise. Fewer carbs. I'm here to *clap* wreck your foodie husband's gourmet meals [that sort of rival Paula Dean in the butter department.]
Emotional weeding is going to involve the uprooting of negative, self-doubting thoughts. My self-talk has improved drastically over the last year but I still feel those awful twinges of workaholism, nipping at my heels, like a pretend demon chasing me up the stairs at night [we all think like that, right?]. That voice that sarcastically reminds me that, "you only have value if you're working and accomplishing something!" It sucks. I hate that voice and its sultry reminders that constant productivity will make me happy! Fulfilled! Yeah, right. Please pass the blood pressure meds. Part of my challenge with this new position has been to tell that stupid voice that it has no power over me. Yet, it does. It sneaks in, like an odor that you don't notice is there until your whole kitchen smells like rotten Chinese food and you're wondering who forgot to clean out the fridge. I have to keep reminding myself that my job has changed (drastically). I'm no longer scored by the number of tasks I complete, the number of construction projects I successfully wrap (on time and under budget, thank you), or people I fire. I'm now judged on...well....I don't really know. Being an ethical human and helping those in our healthcare ministry discern the course of our patients' lives or clinical circumstances.
Yeah, no pressure. But it makes it hard to establish measurable goals. Hmmm....should my dashboard read "successfully avoided abortions" or "people we have counseled into allowing their parents to die with dignity and peace?" Sure. Why not?
I'm still trying to uproot the awful weed of workaholism. I'm not well versed in other addictions but I do think workaholism drains one's very soul. You have no value as a human being without having accomplished something for your company. It's so sad...and yet I see myself strugging with that stupid temptation. This is an area full of weeds...needing a lot of attention as I continue to heal from hospital ops and progress into my new life. I read a "nouveau" book from one of my former radiologists called the "Four Agreements." I don't agree with the theology in the book but it makes a few great points. Most namely, that people wake up in the morning thinking about themselves. Not you. Or me. So odds are, we have no need to worry about what others think about us because about 97.8% of the time, they're thinking about themselves. If you consider this, it's true. I am so hard on myself but no one usually appreciates the self-depreciating sentiments I give myself when re-hashing a conversation or thinking about a critical interaction with another. They're worried about their own self-depreciating sentiments.
I guess that's sort of a relief.
The last big area, spiritual weeding, has a life of its own. I don't mean to get religious but sin (or bad habits) remind me of when you find those tiny ants in your kitchen. You see one small one, then two, then 14, then all of the sudden, you have a line of them going across your counter (where you forgot to clean up the maple syrup you spilled at brunch). Each tiny choice throughout the day matters. Each small decision about what to eat, what to think, what to feel, what will offend you, not offend you, etc. gets you to some larger destination. I don't want to worry about having to flick ants off the counter. I want to put some bug deterrent around the base of my house so bugs can't even get inside. At the very least, I want to be able to recognize when an ant or two has somehow gotten into the kitchen so I can find the source and mend it there.
It's a Sunday night and even despite attending the "last chance" mass at 6pm and finishing chores at 9 pm, I don't have a case of the Sunday's.
I have a lot of gardening and weeding to do. But I'm ready to start shaping the beautiful mess that I've become.
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