Well friends – time flies when you’re flying around the country and not eating sugar. I am excited tomorrow is the last day of my sugar fast!
I plan to eat m&ms first (of course). I’ll probably drink a Jack & Coke during the day. I’ve strangely missed pop a lot. Ice cream will definitely be on the docket. And this weekend – blueberry pie, cinnamon rolls and those delicious Reeses peanut butter eggs (my Easter basket favorite).
Immediate challenge of today? MAKE IT ONE MORE DAY.
That little “A” word of anticipation seems to be the name of my game these days. It’s not like I’ve never had to wait for anything, but to be honest, it has been awhile since I’ve sat in the waiting room of life. But eating sugar again is one of many events I am waiting for right now. And it’s hard!
I want to give you the “safe” answers and explain why – telling you the anticipation of moving away from my full-time job in a month or so and heading back into the world of freelance has me anxiously nervous yet excited. I want to blame all of these feelings on the book I’m writing that currently has no publisher or even promise of making it to print. My heart is with friends on clinical trials, hoping their next scans show the treatments are working.
And I don’t know about you but while I wade in the waters of this hopeful anticipation, I discover the real reason I don’t like it:
It can bring out the ugly in me.
For all of the type As out there – I am sorry. I skipped a day. There was no Day 12 post yesterday.
I was too tired to write last night.
A fun, but full, weekend had me under the covers before 10 p.m. and my eyelids were so heavy, I could hardly make it through a full chapter of the book I’m reading. (Which by the way, check out Powered by Hope. Teri’s story is amazing.)
Deep down I hate that my “Day 12” blog post is missing.
But I actually think it’s divine. Because I’m on an unending quest to understand it’s good to be imperfect. (I’m a 1 on the enneagram if that explains anything.)
If things aren’t organized, formatted and following a nice pattern, I’m often not in my comfort zone.
But, I’m growing.
Have I mentioned I’m in the throes of writing a memoir? (I know – there’s a lot happening in my world right now.) As I write and reflect on the stories of my life, there’s a constant theme I keep running into: comparison.
I’ve taken big humbling gulps as I’ve uncovered the massive amount of time I’ve spent comparing myself to others.
I’m also finding grace for myself. How?
I’m watching my 7-year-old daughter struggle with the same thing.
Case in point – she wanted to wear a sparkly red dress with tights and shiny shoes to take a walk in the melting ice and snow the other day. Why?
Because she wanted to look fancy. For who?
Nobody in particular – it was just in case somebody saw her.
The temptation to compare ourselves to one another and the fear of man is so strong – even stronger than my desire to eat sugar right now. (Which after 10 days of going without it is getting pretty big.)
I did a little digging and learned the popular phrase “Keeping Up with the Joneses” dates back to a 1913 comic strip featuring the made up McGinis family who kept trying to prove themselves in comparison to their neighbors.
“Mama, why was I adopted?”
The weight of her question barely registered as my mind focused on the invisible checklist that appears every time I exit the car:
Purse – check.
Wallet – check.
Keys – check.
Dang it – where’s my cell phone?
In a flurry of my own activity, I nearly missed the opportunity I’d been waiting for – the moment my daughter was pulling me into a conversation about her adoption rather than having me (once again) push it on her.
Fortunately, before I completely missed the moment, I found a fast response: