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Like the ceiling can’t hold us.

Before I even make my coffee this morning, I want to share what my life affords me.

I woke up this morning to this.

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There are clean dishes in the drain board from 24 hours ago. There’s crap on the island. A day’s worth of dirty dishes in the sink. Nothing’s been disinfected.

The living room was scattered with papers and some haphazard books. Gym blocks in disarray. Bath toys littering the carpet. There’s a load of laundry to be folded and another yet to be washed.

You want to know what this represents to me?

A day well spent with my attention elsewhere.

My life–my amazing freaking life–my I practice and practice and practice life–my I get back up again life–affords me this moment. I could focus yesterday without micromanaging all of the home tasks. I could eat a meal without care if the dishes were washed. My routines (even taking a day off from them) afford me only an hour of catchup time today to get everything back to normal. My mindset work afforded me the ability to not even consider that someone else should wash the dishes yesterday. Never did I play the victim and think, “well, if no one can even give me the damn day, I guess I have to stop this important conference to wash a dish.” Never did I even think to entertain “I just want to watch the speakers, but L wants attention too and now I have to give up my dream!”

No! I am so much more than that.

I didn’t give a shit about the dishes. I didn’t think someone else should do them. I was grateful for the times Chris took L to play in the other room, but I was just. as. grateful. for all the moments L spent with me too! I incorporated him into my conference. I welcomed him. And he loved it! He felt loved.

My conference ended around 6:30. I was freaking glowing. Chris was on a call outside and L and I danced around the living room for the hundredth time, as my calves burned from the day.

I could have cleaned the house then. I even considered it. Wanna know what I did instead? I went outside and I played with my kid. Because even tho I spent a great part of the day with him, my attention was split. My life affords me that too. So we went outside and chased monsters and threw Spiderman webs and enjoyed the beautiful weather.

Later we went to the store. Still no clean kitchen. Later L went to bed. Still no clean kitchen. Even later than that Chris and I had amazing freaking sex. Still no clean kitchen.

And it was never a freaking thought in my head.

And so today, when I woke up and saw my home. It was the prize. It wasn’t the burden. It was the freaking prize. Because yesterday I lived in abundance. And I loved in abundance. And today my house, which is easily pickup-able, represents all of my progress. All of my glorious progress. And there is just nothing better than that.

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A drop in the ocean.

I never understand how my dog gets herself so bent in half.

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She always falls asleep so deeply like this tho, usually right at my feet.

It’s been in the back of my mind for a couple months now that even tho I’m still wearing the same size pants (12s and 14s), that my weight has maybe gone up significantly (and maybe even irrevocably) and so I’ve been afraid to weigh myself.

Last year this time I was on a journey from the 170s to the 140s, and the thought of being back there again hurts. I had a doctor appointment last week and I knew I’d get weighed and I would navigate it when I had to. But not before. I was 157 and I wasn’t upset about it. I assumed it would be 160s and it was actually motivating to find that I wasn’t.

I haven’t had a lot of body issue issues recently. No, I don’t necessarily *want* to be this size. But also, when I look in the mirror, I don’t feel bad about myself. In fact, most of the time I look in the mirror and feel pretty average. It’s a strange thing. I know I’ve been at this size before and felt fat and ugly and unlovable and undesirable. But I don’t right now.

Sometimes I do wonder how my husband contends with having had me in my 130s compared to the 170s. Sometimes I do think “man, I felt so much sexier in my 140s, when my stomach was flatter and my ribcage was more pronounced; how on earth does he not think this is gross?” But also….so what? He doesn’t and who am I to question that? He’s had ups and downs too and it doesn’t really come into factor in a tangible way for me.

Confidence certainly factors in. He feels more confident when he’s more fit. I get that. So do I. There’s a glow that comes when you are working to achieve a thing and successfully achieving it. So, the reverse is true too. There can be a dulling when you aren’t working toward self-happiness. The dulling can be, by design, not as sexy.

But I digress.

I am simultaneously content with my body as is, because it’s mine and allows me the luxuries of being alive and living, and also I would like to be kinder to it so my body and I can have more time being alive and living.

Today I went thrift shopping for jeans because I have no pants and it’s getting cold. I found a pair I was content with. I was willing to spend the six bucks on something now that I didn’t love, but liked enough. Turns out the blue tag was 99 cents today. Score! Turns out too that once home, I really love the jeans. And I’d like to think it doesn’t matter….but it was a comfort still to know that they’re a size 12. Maybe it’s not irrevocable after all.