Worth It

Disclaimer:  My purse is slung over my torso making my girth much wider than it is in reality.

Is my reality, really reality?  Much time is spent pondering this notion.  Is how I am viewed in this world congruent with my thoughts about myself?  I think not. 

“I am really shy,” I admitted to a long-time dear friend.  She burst out laughing, not able to hold the hilarity of that statement within. I am really, really shy, I thought.  

When I was a kid, I remember being pretty confident and sure of myself.  Somehow, somewhere along the way, I have lost this.  Sometimes, I stand on shaky ground. I go through periods of confidence and then it vanishes and I have to fight to wooo it back to where it should reside within.

I see other busy mothers working out at the Y.  They make time to exercise, relieve stress and tune-up their bodies.  I can’t seem to sustain a focus on myself month after month, year after year.  There are too many other bodies I am responsible for nurturing and protecting.  I know, I know that is a cop-out.  This self-care thing has been an elusive goal that I grasp for a year or so at a time, but them I flail about over and over like trying to get the wooden ball attached to a string into the cup.  Impatience gets the best of me.

Writing is one way I take care of myself.  The act is purely spiritual.  I bought myself an orchid, a deep fuchsia-colored orchid.  We both need attention on a regular basis-my orchid and me.  My body, mind and soul need to be revered and nurtured.  My incongruent reality, does it really matter?  My current focus:  I am worth the bother.