not another dream!

It's the ones that seems important, or uninterpretable, that I want to write down.  So :p

My dream was watching my son follow in my footsteps, literally, and forget to do his own life.  Him and I were at his school.  There were things I needed to take care of I guess, because I was staying there and walking around his campus, trying to find teachers and such... and Gabriel was staying with me.  Sooner than later it was after noon, after their lunch time, and he was still with me, and I was actually waiting in a line to talk to his teacher, when she saw him in line and called him over to inquire why he wasn't in class.  It all sort of shocked me then, I guess I wasn't really paying attention to his needs or his schedule.  He wanted to hang with me and I didn't mind that at all.  Realizing that I had been so wrapped up in my to do's that I had completely not paid attention to making sure HE took care of HIS to do's... it was just strange.  I felt dirty, like a bad parent who has been called out.

So that was not a fun dream!  Who wants to dream about being a selfish, self absorbed parent??

exercise

Yesterday was my ... (goes to count on calendar) sixth day at running as much as I could of two miles distance.  NOT in a row, I go three times a week, missed one Saturday.  It was also day 27 of my renewed exercise routine which is 6 days a week.  Also though, I did miss two days one weekend.  Still, I AM rocking it.

I don't remember ever trying running before.  It's hard!  My lungs are SO not used to taking in that much air.  That's what stops me after 3 blocks or so is the needing to catch my breath before I can start again, walking another 2 blocks til I can go again.  Yesterday though,  yesterday was the first day that I felt a difference.  I could go farther.  It felt better.  Just a smidgen, and by the end I needed a longer cool down, but my two blocks running two blocks walking turned in to three blocks running and one block walking.  And now, my legs, oh god, I feel it in my legs.  It's a good pain, I promise.  Still, it's an amazing thing, actually feeling my body start accepting something new.

K... here is the greatest thing about working out.  When I started, I was quite self aware the whole time, in the back of my mind  wondering what people were thinking,  how they must be judging or criticizing me.  That is going away, which is what I wanted so badly to happen ~ to get so into what I am doing that the world sort of disappears for a brief time.  Yeah... it's happening.  And that makes me so damn happy.  It is becoming mine, totally a me time thing.  Yeah.  I love it.

Sticking with it, I know it's going to be tough.  Gabe comes back on Saturday, and I get to learn how to incorporate new things into the "family" schedule.

OH, I forgot to mention, Monday at my training session (I only have three left, too poor to buy more) we did kick boxing.  Umm, helllooo, that was fun!

childhood idols

It's been filtering through my mind lately, this though about my idols growing up.  It was cool to be hard.  I don't think I ever was as a kid; I was soft, affectable, feelings easily hurt.  But I aspired to be that gal that was super fun and witty, yet had the ability to be unmarred by other peoples stupid actions, sort of rising above it all.  Later that morphed into trying to emulate the really selfish people.  Madonna I worshipped because of her hard edged self-centeredness.  I believed that if you acted like you deserved the best treatment, you would get it.  Unfortunately, my childhood had already preordained that I should play the victim role; the misunderstood and blamed one, the scapegoat.  I perpetually laid myself down to be walked on, so that I could recreate patterns from my childhood that were comfortable I guess.  Each time I would follow this by blaming myself for not being hard enough.

How many years of my life did I spend trying to be someone I am not?  Most of my life.  Somehow having a child allowed me to open up to the possibility that I am already who I am supposed to be, inside, buried underneath so many years of self effacement.  I look at my child and I see... I see a beautiful, amazing thing that is strong and delicate at the same time.  I look at him and I think of all the shame based identities I took inside of myself, and I think how could I have done that, if I was as glorious and amazing a child as this child is, how could anyone have wanted to destroy my spirit?

In my soul I can feel what is real truth.  In my heart I can feel what connects us all.  My sons spirit glows with love, he loves that he is so loved, as he should, as should we all.