So I’m nearly a week into Lent, and apart from the occasional craving for a nice chilled glass of verdelho, I’m doing OK.
I’m not just giving up one thing up for ole JC this time. Oh no. I have a whole list of things I have either eschewed or have vowed to do for the sake of my health, and whilst I’m not going to bore you with all of them, I’m pretty much keeping to most of them most days, in particular the challenge to walk 10,000 steps every day.
A simple idea based on the well know theory that one needs to walk at least 10,000 steps in order to stay healthy, but it’s benefits appear to be multifold. There’s the improved fitness of course, and calorie burning, but I’m also (hopefully) keeping my hereditary/potential death by stroke/s at bay. I’m saving money on petrol/parking/public transport too and of course, unless I want to wear out my carpets, come rain or shine, I have to go outside.
So on some days, when even the most robust, hyperactive mutt is being throttled half to death and getting carpet burn of the bum hole whilst being dragged out by it’s owner for it’s daily constitutional, you’ll find me doing laps of the park in a wind cheater, hood up, squinting at my pedometer, cussing like a navvy as I stride through the deluge and dream of hot tea and Easter eggs.
I’ve also rediscovered my love of yoga. Not with Guru https://sistasertraline.wordpress.com/2013/01/18/reach-out-and-touch-faith/ and the heinous hippy chicks I hasten to add, but at my local studio where there is no wizened old tortoise boring my ass off for England and proclaiming to have been at Christ’s crucifixion (yes, he really did allude that), no cliquey covens where you are meant to buy 100% into everything they believe, buy their fart inducing food and hand over your first born son, plus let them treat your home like a Premier Inn.
No. Just some pretty learned, die hard, hard core practitioners that just bloody well get on with the lesson and expect no more from you than that you pay, turn your mobile phone off and put your mat away.
And it does my heart and my head good. Because when I’m concentrating that hard, the mind monkeys don’t get a look in. Plus the unspoken communion with other like minded souls is wonderful.
My diet is better and without alcohol, I’m waking up a little more alert of a morning but to be honest, the trippy dreams are still happening.
In fact they are getting worse.
As for those group counselling sessions I was promised, I’m still waiting to hear something, so I’ve decided that instead of chasing/weeping/pleading with the NHS, I’ll just wait for them to get in touch with me.
I appear to be learning to accept that I cannot control everything and I’m going to try and just allow things to be and evolve when they’re meant evolve.
And when I get anxious and start to fret, I’ll just strap on my back pack, grab my water bottle and keep on trucking.
And the dreams? I’ll just watch them as impassively as possible and write them down when I wake up. Perhaps I’ll write this decades version of Eraserhead, make a fortune and retire to my dream cottage/mill/lighthouse in the country/by the sea. 🙂
I’m also trying to interact with fellow human beings face to face every day, and have agreed to do some voluntary work later this week. I may even think about what I’m going to do with regards to paid work in the future.
So whilst things aren’t exactly perfect right now, and whilst I’ll no doubt be frothing at the mouth and ranting away at you again tomorrow, I think I’m taking a step in the right direction.
One day at a time, sweet JC….