Matter of Opinion

Everyone seems to have an opinion on what I should be doing. How I should be handling life.

And regardless of what I do, someone… somewhere… thinks I've done it wrong.

It's starting to get really flippin' old.


I'm continually pushed from all directions, squeezed until I can no longer breathe or find the oxygen I need to be me.

Instead, I become a shell of myself… keeping all but those on a "need to know basis" out of the loop and in turn, denying myself the ability to live life the way I would. The way I want.

Don't get me wrong. Some of the changes are wonderful. Some opinions matter more than others.

Overall, life has been fantastic.

But the last few days have been hard again. Maybe it's just growing pains. Maybe it's just a rebalance of energy… of life. People push and I have to find the strength to push back.

See, the stupid thing is, I get myself into this mess… because I care.

I care about my family's opinion. I care about my husband's opinion… my kids', my friend's. And when they clash in their opinion, no matter what I do, someone will be upset with me. And really… the only one hurt is me. I feel like no matter what I do, no matter what I choose-- even if I know it's right-- it will be somehow, some way… wrong.

After a while… it wears on you.

It's as if I'm not allowed to have my own opinion. My own life. Make my own decisions.

But I'm done with that.

This is my life.

The only opinion that matters in the end is mine. I will take all others into consideration, make no mistake.

But do not ever make me feel guilty for differing my opinion from yours.

It doesn't make you wrong. It doesn't make me wrong.

It makes me independent.

Cursed Complacency

Those of you who follow my blog, know that I adore Jillian Michaels. Her philosophy on life is so in sync with mine that I wish we were friends in real life.

That better be organic veggies on your cardboard pizza. 

That said, I've fallen into complacency.

Health complacency, that is.

When I've had pizza for the fifth day in a row and I can't remember the last time I ate an actual vegetable... Well, we have a problem.

And I doubt I'm alone in this.

My life gets hectic. And so does yours.

There are never enough hours in the day. Ever. When I go into crazy writer mode, the first thing to suffer is my health. Which is stupid. It's the catalyst for my writing in the first place.

I feel very strongly that when our health is strong... when we eat right, exercise regularly (and vigorously), our minds flourish. We are more creative, more in tune. We all around function better. So why, then, is it such a pain in my ass?

Probably because it takes time. In order to eat right, you have to meal plan. There are recipes involved, the buying of actual food... then there's the prep and following said recipe; which involves work. Chopping, slicing, mixing and dashing (yes, dashing!). And it all takes time away from what I want to be doing------> (WRITING) To add insult to injury, there's the "I just made a meal for four, but produced enough dishes for twelve, cleanup." Gah!

*headdesk*

The thing is, I know I have to get back on track. Even my workouts have slipped to three days a week and that makes me cranky. (Ask my kids.)

For all the sitting I do, I have to push myself in my workouts. Call me a glutton for punishment, but if I'm not doing mountain climbers and crow pushups, I don't feel like I've done my job properly.

So, here's where you come in...

I need to get myself back on track.

You probably do, too. Am I right?

Despite the obnoxious time it takes to meal plan (at least it's not folding laundry! YUCK!), I want to get that beast under control. I also want to recommit to my five days a week ass kickers. Uh, I mean workouts.

Who's with me? 

We can skip gleefully into a healthy future together. Or something like that.