This morning I got up and did a short, soft stretching routine for 15 minutes before going on our walk. Today is “going back to work” day so time is always crunched for me, but I felt stiff and sore.
The fact is that if it weren’t for Keely, I’d probably have no exercise at all in my life. I am not good at the self-care thing, but my responsibility for Keely pulls me out of my head and gets me on my feet.
I’ve not been eating well either for the past week, mostly junk food and sugar, and I’ve been reminded yet again how that directly impacts me physically: lethargy, over sleeping, achy joints, acid reflux and poor digestion. But sometimes the feelings of helplessness, and hopelessness, overwhelm me. Stewing my brain in the “quick hit” of serotonin highs has been my coping mechanism since childhood. Short term fix with long term, even medium term, harm.
All of which is a round about way of saying this walk was slow and bland as I faded in and out of self-awareness. I’d like to wake up in my life again, and I know how to do it: stop with the junk and start with the dancing and the yoga. Such simple things. My resistance to being kind to myself is my reality.
Keely, of course, sees none of these faults. She’s happy to go on walks, happy to sleep, happy to eat, happy to be cuddled. There is a legend that dogs are bodhisattvas, the most enlightened living creatures, and I tend to believe that is true when I spend time with Keely instead of just existing around her.
Perhaps my goal should rather be to find peace in my present state instead of constantly trying to escape it.