I have a thirst for self-improvement. I also have a healthy love for audiobooks. In this manner, it allows me to follow many great teachers – Cheryl Richardson, Dr Wayne Dyer, Louise Hay, etc. Any tidbits I can soak up and retain in my daily life will serve me for the better. We can always enrich & improve our lives…taking things from here and there, that we can apply to ourselves.
Liken it to walking through a beautiful garden, overflowing with flowers of all kinds. We approach those that catch our eye, or capture an appealing sense of smell, and put each into a basket.
After a while, we’ve got a bouquet. If we’re not improving the quality of our lives by watering these flowers, we go dormant and stagnant. Our petals wilt, and that once gorgeous bouquet becomes bare and lifeless, drained of its vibrant colors.
I find that every time I stray from my path for betterment, I’m stuck in a muddle of quicksand. It saps my positivity and brighter outlook on life. It’s very easy to wander off the path…much like that squirrel who continues to venture out when it thinks better things are elsewhere, instead of being mindful and grateful for what it already has in front of him – that bounty of nuts.
We can easily get mired down by that sludge in the quicksand, when we feel complacent and slip back into old patterns. I’ve done it countless times. We’re all creatures of habit…but we’re also just as capable of forming new ones. Yes, it takes practice, persistence, and a conscious effort to keep the motivation going.
For me, if I let one day pass, it too easily turns into another day, and the next, and pretty soon, I’ve lost the habit and steered myself into the mud again, where I feel the heavy burden of knowing I took my hands off the wheel.
And so I start again. At times, it’s a struggle, because I’m a very insular person. I can be both withdrawn and yet incapable of hiding my true emotions.
Growing up was difficult for me, like so many others…my father was an alcoholic, who eventually got sober, and my mother was a toxic narcissist. I had a younger brother, but the family dynamics were stacked against me. My diaries from back then are filled with angry, sad entries. I had to be my own advocate, since they all ganged up against me…my dad blaming me for the state of his marriage falling apart due to his drinking, my mother constantly pushing her will onto me, with me pushing back & insisting on being my own person, and pitting brother against sister.
My writing provided an outlet…it was something I felt innately drawn to from an early age. I could sit in my room & escape, or at least document my emotions.
When I think back, I’m in awe. I’m actually proud of myself. Against all odds, I somehow maintained my own sense of self, even in the face of daily ridicule. I refused to conform to my mother’s wishes. We always had to ‘keep up appearances,’ and my weight was a constant ding on her record. After all, what would people think if they knew the owner of several Diet Center franchises had a fat daughter?
Subconsciously, that was probably another form of rebellion on my part. Since I had no control over circumstances or day-to-day living in that household, I could control my weight as it climbed out of my mother’s reach.
