Back in the Saddle

I've been mapping out my #Project15 goals on a weekly basis, in pencil, and when I achieve the daily goals - be it a wellness mission or a creative one - I go over the pencil in permanent marker as a visual reminder of the accomplishment. 

This past week has looked a bit... different in terms of my tracking.

At first glance, this looks like a loss. Complete and utter failure. Thankfully, a very insightful man (who I happen to be married to) just reminded me that there's actually a significant win here.

And that is this: the best part about getting super sick is how much it makes you appreciate being well. How much it drives your desire for wanting nothing but good health. And clarity. And an appetite. And exercise. God, I'll NEVER bitch about working out again. I will embrace it. Daily. I'm gonna hard core make out with the fact that my body can run, leap, jump, dance. I'm gonna move. Move. Move.  

Traditional meds are great, and I will certainly finish the antibiotics and prescription-strength cough syrup as directed, but I'm adding a strong dose of mind over matter to my routine. I'm evicting sick. Effective immediately. 

So thanks pneumonia. 'Prec the life lesson, you little rascal, you.

Consider yourselves warned, world. I'm officially back - maybe not twice as smart, but definitely twice as strong.

Finding Your Voice

I started losing my voice today. Just my physical one, courtesy of what I won't admit is a chest cold that's leaving me with, at best, a dead-on impersonation of Kathleen Turner circa 1980s.

That's not necessarily a bad thing. 

By 3pm today, I had reached my lowest point of audibility. So I stopped trying to talk, and focused on my work. And listening. Some of the conversations around me made me laugh, and even that, to myself and soundless, hurt to do so.

That's also not necessarily a bad thing.

There are other types of voices, too. Mental. Spiritual. Creative. Physical not with your vocal cords, but with you body. So sorry, Universe: you managed to wrestle one away from me today  - temporarily - but you can't have the others.

Fresh squeezed, post-work juice from Greenleaf followed by quality time with Sonja. Then on to Pound at Pulse PDX (this may have not been my best idea, in hindsight - so sayeth my chest right now).

Cap it off with a twilight walk with my 13-year-old stepdaughter, who is having very real and very valid and very challenging moments that come with the territory. At that age, the last thing you want to hear, "You'll get over it," even though you are 99.7% they will. 

You just. Want. To be heard. 

So I listened. To her voice. Grateful to let it take it's rightful place, and to be a part of it.