Getting a Grip

Do you know how? I have come to a few conclusions myself.
1. It must be done repeatedly. It is not a one time deal.
2. I used to be really good at it.
3. Not so much anymore.
4. Life changes mess up with one's ability to get a grip.
5. Changes such as kittens and their toys.
6. Random water stoppages due to construction.
7. Changes in income... aka getting a part-time check vs that lovely full-time one that was enjoyed up to June 1st.
8. Changes in health... aka what's the deal with this whole not feeling so hot thing... to be expected, but not enjoyed.

Getting a grip means admitting that you've lost yours. I, my friends, have totally lost my grip. I am currently sitting in my bedroom with the door closed. I'm shutting it on the laundry, the dishes, and the cat. I can hear Oscar playing in the kitchen. And while he is fun and entertaining and sometimes even cuddly, I'm just not in the mood to deal with him today. I am longing for that peace that I used to have. That inner peace where you're cool with the world and the world is in turn cool with you.

Getting a grip usually means making some changes. I may move my office to another bedroom instead of the downstairs living room. That way I have the ability to shut the door. It's kind of interesting how Oscar's perfectly capable of entertaining himself while I'm gone but just can't leave me alone when I'm here. This not feeling so hot things has also altered my reality. It may just turn me into a night person rather than a morning person. I find myself sleeping longer, as if that will actually help.

Getting a grip sometimes means re-incorporating things back into your routine. On Monday I braved the gymn. Crazy right. I even decided to tell that pain in my foot to take a hike. I decided to ignore it should it raise it's ugly head. Turns out it was fine. In fact I even ran for like 1.5 minutes. Do you know what happened during that 1.5 minutes? I hurt. But not my foot. It was my fat. That fat that has been leaching it's way onto my body since November when doctor's orders were to stay off of the foot. That fat that has been groomed to full saddle bags with hormone injections and mood swings controlled by food. That fat that has made it impossible to wear the one and only pair of shorts I own that are decent in public. It hurt. It was moving up and down completely out of control. I had no grace, no style. I shudder to think what I looked like from behind. I was like an injured llama trying to run. It was ridiculous. It made me realize just how lazy I've become. Complacent. My goal was always to "move what I got". Meaning I may not be the skinniest thing in the world but at least I can move what I have. I will now adjust that to "Move what I got with minimal pain involved."

sigh.

I am slowly regaining my grip. I am slowly adjusting to things that are now very much a part of my life. I am slowly coming to terms with my own reality.