I never know how to start posts. I feel like I need to open with a joke or something. Okay, so knock knock. Who's there? Pizza. Pizza who? Pizza poop. I must confess that this is in no way an Original Meghan Joke. Unfortunately. It was told to me, on numerous occasions, by a 5-year-old black boy. The only reason I mentioned he was of African descent is because, let's face it, li'l black kids are the cutest. So are Asian children. WELL, THEY ARE.
Now that I've gotten the introduction to this post out of the way, let me conclude it with a moral. Oh wait, I guess I need to fill this in with something. There's always a middle, isn't there? There is. Knock knock. Who's there? Hippie Meg. Hippie Meg who? Hippie Meg is slooooowly returning. I may be moving like a glacier towards a "better version" of me, but at least I'm moving. And thanks to climate change, I am melting at an alarming rate. Point is, my icy heart is becoming a compassionate one once again. Sorta. Like I said, it's a slow process.
I am embarrassed to admit this, but the biggest hurdle I have to overcome is exercising too much. I know for a lot of folks that seems like the lamest hurdle. And to many it doesn't even seem like a hurdle. Exercise is good for you, yeah? Yeah, sure. But when you do it as a means to escape any and all negative emotions, no matter how small, the benefits begin to dwindle. And then when running becomes a punishment, a way to purge, it definitely does not fall on the beneficial side. And then there's the whole I-can't-miss-a-day-even-though-I-sprained-a-muscle-in-my-back thing. "Oh, looks like you had an apple. Better run an extra 3 miles to make up for it." "It's so so so heartbreakingly beautiful outside, but too bad. You have to run on this ecologically unfriendly conveyor belt in an ecologically unfriendly building surrounded by assholes and jarring noises. YOU HAVE TO. I am your inner critic and I am a dictator and I am the REAL asshole here!"
So this needs to stop.
I am stubborn, to put it mildly. And if I am able to follow these strict rules day in and day out, then I have it in me to break these rules and survive -- no, thrive. Instead of demanding perfection from myself, what if I demand kindness? Specifically kindness to myself. Eventually I won't have to demand anything from anyone and can instead be a blissed out melted iceberg who steals crass knock knock jokes from enchanting ethnic children. I can do this! I can I can I can.
Moral of the story/post: I can.
I am hopeful. I hope that I am hopeful. I hope that I don't become discouraged when my hope is hidden away somewhere. It will return, it always does. I am a warrior with a world of possibilities waiting for me.