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Have you followed my new page?
I am moving my blog to this address! Please stop by and follow, eventually I’ll be taking this one down.
What’s it mean to grow up anyways? Pay your bills on time, get up for work without being hung over, accepting and handling all responsibilities?
What I want to be is a person who leaves a lasting impression. Someone who, years from now when my name is mentioned, someone says, “Yeah, I know her!” and proceeds to tell a memorable story involving a personal encounter that only I can deliver.
I want for people to be glad that I passed through their lives, whether it be short or longterm.
I also want to be myself without apologizing. I want people to see who I am despite my visible flaws and accept the human that that’s behind them.
I don’t see myself as a people pleaser, but I do prefer for people to enjoy themselves when they’re around me.
I want to live a life that challenges and inspires me, and everyone around me. I want to want more than what I have, and work to near exhaustion to get it.
I guess in short, I want to be the best at being me.
Along with a large population of people my age, I’ve spent a lifetime sifting through my mommy and daddy issues.
Through this, I have come to realize that I have gotten a lot of amazing qualities from my parents.
I have daddy’s ability to quietly watch and access situations.
I have mama’s ability to announce what I’ve noticed without worrying about what happens after I’ve said it. It get’s me into trouble from time to time, but I like to think that it’s more of an act of bravery to say what you’re thinking. Foolish bravery, but bravery nonetheless. Thank God that as I become older, my delivery is much more appropriate and colorful.
I have both my parent’s sense of humor. They are hilarious.
I have mama’s silver tongue. We spent years on our polyester-ish sofa that my parents brought back from Germany laughing at Eddie Murphy or Robert Townsend. We did a lot of things together, and laughing was a daily occurrence in the McGill house. Weekends that we weren’t busy with sports, we all sat in our den watching movies and television shows on Fox that may have been deemed inappropriate for children our age, laughing our asses off.
I had cool parents. They weren’t the ‘cool’ parents that let you have boy-girl sleepovers or get drunk “as long as we don’t drive” they were cool because they listened to cool music. They had cool interests, and they did cool things together. They had hobbies that fit their personalities and unique talents.
My dad used to bring home to my mother sketchbooks from his job. I remember her always getting excited, and would go to work almost immediately. I don’t ever recall seeing her draw, but she always let me see the sketchbooks after she was done. She drew things that she was passionate about, and each sketch depicted such personal, sometimes haunting stories that I can to this day see in my mind. I was probably a teenager the last time I saw those sketchbooks, but I’ll never forget the one depicting abuse. I was probably seven or eight when I first saw it, and was always drawn to it. I studied it, studied the shading that she eventually taught me to do on my own.
I wanted to draw as well as she did. To me, everything she drew had life. It could have been just a single object, but I was always inspired to give it a story, a purpose. My parents bought us all sketchbooks and paints, so I set to work. I couldn’t draw hands or noses, and grew frustrated. I decided I would rather describe them instead. My sketchbook was full of crude drawings with written stories surrounding them. I didn’t realize until now that my mama was in part responsible for my love of writing. I wanted so much to be like her that when I couldn’t exactly mimic her powerful drawings, I chose to dictate what her sketchbooks made me see instead.
Thank you, Mama.
In seeking the best in you as a child, I was able to bring out the best in me.
I can only hope that in the years to come Blake can find out what’s best in him through his favorite things in all of us.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mama.
I love you.
But… If you don’t exert yourself in your plans to get healthy, it’s not going to work. I’m sorry. I know I’m going to sound like a self-righteous a$$hole after this is over, but I am speaking from experience.
You already know my story if you’ve read my blog, if not, click here. I had a hot body until I was about 20 or 21. Then I got really fat. I also became diabetic and spent the end of my twenties on a plethora of medication. I tried diet pills, I tried fasting, I tried drinking body cleanse stuff, I tried colon cleansers. News Flash: I WAS STILL FAT.
I wasn’t doing enough. I wasn’t trying hard enough. I wasn’t giving myself the opportunity to excel at becoming healthy because I didn’t want to accept that I wasn’t doing it right. So there was this cycle of lose some, gain more.
Everyone’s body responds differently to things, and this is my personal account.
I didn’t receive a bit of positive result until I started working out. I started out small, but I didn’t stop. You can’t stop. Body maintenance is a daily chore that you can either choose to love or hate, but you need to do it daily. From the food you choose to eat, to your activities, you need to work towards being healthy EVERY DAY. Do you have a rule that you don’t leave your house without mascara? Well add a new rule. Don’t end your day without exercise.
Am I saying abstain from everything you love? NO. Indulgence is natural, and encouraged! I indulge in many things, but I’m also up every morning making sure that I am giving my body the exercise that it DESERVES.
Which brings us to this: What you choose to do or not do is often determined by your mind. You can train your brain to coach you through some things that you didn’t think your body could handle, because you may have never done it before, or it’s just been a while. Either way, unless a doctor says you can’t, you probably can.
Do you think I’m over here enjoying my pushups and lunges? Hell naw! I do nearly 200 pushups a week, and each one is more difficult than the next. I don’t smile at the mat as I’m coming down and pushing back up. In fact, I don’t smile until I’m done, drenched in my own sweat, and the color of a chocolate covered strawberry. I smile even bigger when I’ve recovered and realize that I can do more the next time.
When my legs start burning towards the end of my run, my brain chimes sometimes in “ Hey, you did good. You did all this stuff today. Let’s stop” My brain can be a wimp. I can’t even tell you how many times I have cussed out my OWN brain for trying to make me do less than what I think I can do.
Living an unhealthy life has given a lot of us (myself included) the opportunity to stop when things get ‘hard’. It’s not just in the gym, it’s life in general. Before realizing what all I could do, I was half-assing my entire life. I had a ton of things written that I never finished, my house was always a mess, and most things that required extra thinking or work went undone. 24 hours in a day is plenty of time to better your life. Would I like a few extra hours to tie up some loose ends? Sure, but I always have tomorrow.
My main theme today is: Stop limiting yourself. You can, and you won’t until you do it. Motivate yourself to give your body the health it deserves, and take pride in yourself for doing it. Take pride in the fact that you are reaching milestones and surpassing them.
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In a few words?? Impossible. Wait...come to think of it, 'impossible' sums me up perfectly. A rookie's take on marriage, motherhood, and "going green"
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