I just came back from a night out at a work event/fundraiser that had me thinking about all of the things I am grateful for, things I take for granted every day:
A bed to sleep in
Access to healthcare
A running car
My mental health
The ability to read
There are many other things I could add to this very basic list but that’s all I have tonight. I need to appreciate what I take for granted.
I have spent a lot of time reading, listening and watching other people’s journeys on 75hard. A common theme I have seen is that the farther along you are the harder it is mentally to complete it. I took note of it but ultimately didn’t want to or frankly need to believe my experience would mimic theirs.
I have walked in the rain, in the cold, the sun, have avoided cars who didn’t care about my pedestrian status and didn’t fall out of love with any bit of the outdoor part. I have drank 52 gallons of water, lifted weights, done yoga, danced by myself, gone back to the gym and read the books. Besides random left ankle pain here and there, my body has held up.
Last night after a meeting, I came home exhilarated and the last thing I felt like doing was a second workout. But I did it. I went to bed and woke up with tremendous pain in my right ear. I usually start the day outside but couldn’t today.
I eventually got up, went to work and barely made it through the first half of my day. I expected to come straight home and pass out but I feared doing it because I knew I wouldn’t be coming back outside.
As I was turning into our neighborhood, I vowed to put my sneakers on and do 45 minutes. And I did it. I earned those minutes. I also don’t feel it was coincidental that I felt it so acutely this late –with only 23 days left. If all the challenges are coming for me, in the last few weeks, I may not welcome it but I choose to believe this is why the challenge is so long– to ensure those who take it are guaranteed to fight battles and be ready to slay the dragons that enter long after 75 has passed.
I am sitting in a cafe waiting for someone to come who could be passing through my life (highly doubtful) or be a force to steer it in a direction I never knew I wanted until this year.
So now, I am writing and staring at art meant to provoke joy, a trip back in time to a local record store and thoughts about the way the scales of justice tips.
I am wondering if I knew everything that was going to happen, with all of the certainty only the Almighty can ensure, would I live it all of the same?
I am sure the answer is No.
I wouldn’t be open to all of the lessons, the heartbreak, the connections, the opportunities and the maturity that the uncertainty brings.
Today is day 50 of 75hard challenge.
I woke up and wanted to run today. Even as I saw the temperature was at freezing and the bed was calling, there was something greater in me this morning telling me I had to move.
My run may resemble more of a slow jog but one day that won’t be the case. I will find that my willingness to drag this body out of the bed into the frigid cold daily will mean discipline and showing my entire being the love it so richly deserves.
Today, I was discussing possible opportunities to participate in a physical competition and to follow through on a writing collaboration I’ve been dreaming about for many months. It was pointed out to me that not executing on either one of those things might mean playing small.
Playing small, minimizing, hiding all mean the same thing.
Another year of an unrealized me.
Another year of doors I tell myself I cannot open.
Even though they are already ajar.
I’m writing this post-workout from the sauna. I had a long morning. Hubby and I spent that time having the kind of conversation I believe all married couples should. We went in deep, talking about things we promise do differently, pushing ourselves not to shut down when an issue comes up, as comfortable and as easy as that may be sometimes.
To shut down. Stay silent. Wait until one of us feels like talking and the tension clears to be “us” again. By the end of our talk, I told him I could never be in that kind of relationship.
I never want him to not know what I am really feeling. How his words or lack thereof or his action or lack thereof affects my mental health and my perspective on what we have built and are continuing to build together.
If I hold it all in, I will inevitably explode or maybe worse- say nothing for so long I become fearful to broach the subjects I need to.
I am guessing this is what relationship looks like for so many some days. Working through the awkward silences and the vulnerable admissions, choosing in our own way to say “I do” everyday.
I am fortunate most days are mixed with a healthy dose of routine, laughter, affection and the occasional surprise.
I am blessed to love someone who will tread those murky waters with me, confident our love is strong enough to meet us on the other side.
I’m so full right now.
I just left a workshop facilitation training at Life in 10 Minutes taught by Valley Haggard.
I got to hold space with people who are eager to give of themselves.
I was challenged to be a stronger listener.
I thought I knew how to listen but now I can see where the holes are and with time, they will be filled.
I now know if I had tried to teach before, I would have walked in with many more blindspots.
I come away from the workshop believing artists feed one another and grow together, especially if we are creating in service to others.
I knew I needed the education but I didn’t know I was going to be gifted with the breadth of wisdom that the room gave me today.
It is incredibly satisfying to leave an experience with questions answered I didn’t know I had when I walked in.
I am not as scared of what comes next even as my heart predictably races and doubt threatens to creep to the surface.
I am not living this life or challenging myself to teach and participate in the healing of the fresh and decaying wounds of my future students so I can be settled and silent.
I am not sure what good I would be then.
Never stirring this soul of mine up.
I debated whether I would take the challenge this year. It would be my third year participating in bloglikecrazy (created by See Jane Write founder Javacia Harris Bowser) but beyond talking about 75hard, an upcoming birthday and time spent with family, I didn’t feel like I had 30 days in me this year.
And then I took a walk.
I slept in and decided to go to a local park for my first workout of the day. It was much cooler than previous mornings but I was grateful for the ample sunshine. I noticed the parking lot was full for a Friday morning. I saw a group of well dressed people gathered on a landing overlooking the lake. A few of them smiled at me.
By the time I walked another lap, I saw the group surrounding a slender woman with a beautiful afro in a silky emerald dress and a white fur shawl draped around her shoulders holding hands with a man, presumably her groom.
As I continued to walk around the park, I walked with more intensity, buoyed by the sight of an unanticipated wedding.
I realized blogging (for me) has always been a place to share not just the musings and thoughts about writing, plant-based living and mindset but a record of the beautiful, the random and the unexpected.
Saturday morning I went for a walk/jog with a friend and afterwards told myself I was on my way to Whole Foods to grab breakfast/lunch and then home for some well-deserved rest and binge watching.
I was wrong.
Somewhere between the track and the store, I found myself wondering if today would be a good day to visit my friend Brian Tucker’s noon class at Hot House Yoga. I remember telling him I would drop in on a class one day but like some other things in my life, I just “hadn’t gotten around to it yet.” Not because Brian didn’t seem like a quality teacher or I didn’t want to get back into yoga again but because I was making excuses not to push myself.
And if there is one thing 75hard has taught me is to push myself. As ridiculous as it might seem, I spent the next 30 minutes or so at the store and driving to his class, trying to convince myself there would be a better time.
I think anyone reading this already knows: there is no such thing as a “better time.” All we ever really have is now.
And I couldn’t put up much of a fight. I was already in the proper clothing. I had my yoga mat in the trunk of my car from when my co-workers and I decided to follow a beginners yoga YouTube video on a lunch break a couple weeks back.
Here is what followed:
A big, beautiful hug and welcoming smile from Brian who was genuinely surprised to see me.
Watching my friend who shared dreams of teaching yoga just a few years back gently command a room with skill and intention.
After experiencing a half-hour of heated movement, my body told me to take a break. I walked out and then back in but found the nausea was too overwhelming for the moment so I was back out again.
I am glad I listened to my body as I sat quietly outside of class, waiting for the session to finish so I could go back in and collect my mat.
I had time to let the right thoughts settle and to sit comfortably with the knowledge that I tried. I didn’t talk myself out of a challenge and I had the blessing to experience something much greater:
A friend walking in his purpose.
Today is my halfway point of the 75 hard challenge. What’s surprising is that it has been more about taking care of my entire self and less about weight loss–whether it is in the form of therapy, a haircut and signing up for more events to expand my knowledge of the creative process, writing and health. Yes, some weight loss has come with these changes but for the first time in a long time, I just believe it will happen as long as these changes are real.
That there is a reality after I complete the challenge where the habits I am forming now will be sustained. I can’t see myself working out twice a day but I can see myself getting up in the morning and starting my day outside. I am finding no matter how tired I am, my will to get up, rain or shine, is far stronger than the temptation to hibernate underneath my comforter.
And I know I need every day of this challenge to make it stick. It is often said it takes 21 days to form a habit. That has never been true for me. It’s always been months for me to be confident a change I have made is permanent. It is how I knew plant-based eating and writing was real. It was the time and the commitment. I am willing to give it 75 days and everyday afterwards to ensure that I can add fitness and an evolution to that list.
Side note, I also find it fitting that The Storyteller Project: Digital Storytelling for Women of Color was finally published in the journal Liminalities this week. I am incredibly proud of the work we all did, what we created during our time together. There was pain but a palpable joy in making “A Walking Color.”
This past weekend, I attended the 2019 James River Writers Conference. I walked in this year feeling different. I didn’t care I didn’t have a book to pitch and all I wanted was to hear about was quality writing in all of the many forms it takes. I took some notes but I realized what I needed was to be around other writers.
I needed to catch up and laugh with some of my friends.
I needed to be reminded to set aside time for myself each week to put pen to paper and let this particular truth deliver a gut punch: I shouldn’t be devoting more time to my blog than to all my other writing.
Which is exactly what I have been doing for several months now.
Every novelist, screenwriter, memoirist, short story writer, journalist, poet and agent reminded me that there was story still beating inside of me.
The keynote speaker, the incomparable Marita Golden, emboldened us to celebrate ourselves as writers even if we are not published or under contract. This wise woman had me at the edge of my seat telling us how she had been birthed twice. Once on the day of her actual birth and again when her mother told her she was a writer. I also was blessed to hear her on the panel discussing memoir.
Marita shared that sometimes you need to write the memoir to free yourself to write fiction. The vulnerability in memoir panel impacted me emotionally the most. I love how they brought three writers with wildly different tales to share their points of view. I wish I could take classes regularly from Marita Golden (Migrations of the Heart), Mary Bonina (My Father’s Eyes) and Jon Pineda (Sleep in Me).
A special note about this year’s conference: It was beautiful to see the level of cultural diversity this year. James River Writers Conference has come light years in this respect, especially since my first year as an attendee in 2016. Thanks to the chair, Robin Farmer and co-chair Sonia Johnston for not only creating a conference that ignited my fire to devote more time to my craft but for creating an experience where I had the distinct pleasure of seeing faces that reflected the real world around us.
Kristina Hamlett writes to connect, heal, and be a force for change.