What Words Mean

That’s right: morning peeps. Do you read that and think 1) MPs – that’s just the name of the thread, or 2) MPs – she’s saying Good Morning People, or 3) MPs – she’s writing (peeping) in the morning?  My original intention was number two – sort of like Robin Williams saying, “Good Morning, Vietnam!” I’ve also come to think of myself as “peeping,” and that seems relevant since I’m usually watching the birds come to life as I write.

What do our words mean? What do we mean by our words? These questions are with me constantly. Before smartphones and apps, I always carried a dictionary in my car – in all three of our cars. I needed them not only to decipher the “intelligent talk” on public radio but also for the words that popped into my head. Whoa, where’d that come from, I’d think. Then, upon investigation, I’d discover it was just the word I needed.

Reparenting My Inner Child

"When you learn how to reparent yourself, you will stop attempting to complete the past by setting up others to be your parents.” - John Bradshaw, Homecoming: Reclaiming and Championing Your Inner Child.

Wow! Those words sent a flush of recognition through my body. How many times have I done that? For sure with every therapist – and a handful of other people too. How many times has it been successful? Zero. Zip. Nada.

Desires, needs, longings of my wounded little girl? Normal. Expectation that someone who truly cares and understands will fulfill these for me? Trouble. Others can help with some of this, but no one can truly be there 100%. I will never be someone’s top priority. I am the only one who can be that for me. I am always with myself. I am always interested in myself.  I’m the one who must step up to the plate.

Pay Attention - It Matters

The triangle with the exclamation point inside lit up big and red on the dashboard this morning. Hmmm, I thought, I don’t think that’s supposed to happen. The dashboard display was dark, but the car seemed to be on. Hard to tell, though, since the hybrid Prius is silent running on battery alone.

Sitting in the car in the garage, I pulled out the manual to decode the symbol. Turning from page to page, see this, see that, refer to such-and-such a section, I finally found a limited explanation. The one sentence description was long, the punctuation confusing and I couldn’t quite decipher the meaning. Was this a fatal event or a simple warning? I pushed the power button to turn off the car. Then pushed it again to restart. No red triangle. Good, I thought, nothing’s wrong.

Optomistic Zumba Queen

I got on the scale this morning, and I’d lost 2.8 pounds. Very happy, indeed, to finally see the graph lines move south. My last weigh-in was two weeks ago. I generally like to weigh every other day, but that requires remembering before food or beverage passes my lips, because I certainly wouldn’t want a sip of water to tip the scale. Plus, the scale is downstairs and it’s cold down there and I always weigh in the buff – so you see the dilemma. Still, I have only been back in my regimen for three weeks, and I’ve kept up with my Zumba classes, so I’m satisfied.

It’s been hard to get back into the exercise routine. I first started classes back in 2011 when I weighed about 240. It was hard, but I learned to really like it. I used to stand in front of the two foot section of wall that was between the rest of the mirrored wall – so I wouldn’t have to look at myself. Surprisingly, it took only a couple of weeks to learn the routines. I would watch the petite, fit instructor and as we both moved in time to the music, I imagined I was inside of her, light and able. Sometimes I actually felt that way.