This blog title is stolen from another blog title that I saved to favorites when I discovered it. I laugh just as hard every time I read it. "Social Entrapment."
I'll be attending a Christmas party tonight -- an all girls party -- and there will be a lot of women there that I haven't seen or talked to in years. I hope I don't find myself in "entrapment mode." Of course, if I do, it may not be as awkward with a glass of wine. Our inhibitions always make awkward moments more -- well, awkward.
My long-time friend (since SECOND GRADE!) texted me recently to invite me to the party. I was a little hesitant to respond at first. I wanted to think this one through. She followed up the text and my short reply of "Sounds like fun...call me" with a phone call, giving me more details, and urging me to come. Then she unloads this:
"Oh, and by the way, we were all talking the other day (she and many of the women who will be in attendance) and wondered if you would be willing to help us with an overhaul. We all want to lose weight and start an excercise program, and we don't know where to begin. We decided you were the ideal person to help us, if you're willing. We'll pay you, seriously. Would you? ... And can you bring along with you a list of things to discuss with us? And would you be willing to meet with us once a week to go over questions, our progress..."
Have I been shammed?
Is this entrapment?
Is this the only reason I'm invited to this all-women Christmas party?
Is that good or bad?
Do I wanna take them on as a project? All of them? Yikes.
And where do I even BEGIN?
Yes, I'll most definitely be taking a bottle of wine.
This leaves very little time to shop, wrap, cook, clean.
Is it any wonder my house is trashed right now?
EYES WIDE SHUT
I pretend not to see that
and focus instead on the tree
and the lights
and the sparkly stuff.
The plan
is to be vigilant & proactive amidst the partying.
mitigate
any
potential damage pumping iron
One party down, two to go. Last night I was very good, choosing only
low carb/sugar food and snacks, and had only two ounces
of vodka -- no red wine on the premises -- and I made it to bed
feeling guilt free and on track.
So far, so good. Hanging on and finding balance through it all.
compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with the striving,
and tolerant with the weak and the wrong.
Sometime in your life you will have been all of these.
-Dr. Robert H. Goddard
I have heard this short little request countless times over the years. My grandmother used to say it all the time to us, the grandchildren. It was pure joy to receive a visit from any one of us, short or long. The length of the stay didn't matter. Just to see our faces when she opened the door, her genuine smile and laughter lighting up her entire aging body. And even when she could no longer answer the door and her weak and failing body laid helpless in a bed, we'd still hear her little voice say as we turned to go...
"Come see me ..."
That haunts me. Still.
My own mother began tacking that on the end of her phone conversations the last few years before her passing...
"... okay ... well, come see me…"
Sunday afternoon I made some festive Christmas brownies and placed them in a decorative container. I attached a bag of Russell Stover chocolates to a grapevine wreath adorned with an adorable stuffed Santa, making it appear to be his "bag of goodies." I signed a Christmas card and included a warm greeting of love, enclosing a family picture of the five of us taken at The Union Grill after one of Big G's games. (Voila! We have a decent picture of all five of us. Mission accomplished!)
It was pouring the rain on my drive home from work yesterday. I pulled into the parking lot of the assisted living home, gathered my goodies, and headed inside. Once in the reception area, I hear the faint sound of a TV in the adjoining gathering room and notice a nebulous odor that is indicative of elderly homes. Why? I've never understood why that can't be masked. More candles, air fresheners... surely someone has tried.
I sign the guest book, noting my check-in time, then head in the direction of the TV and quiet conversations. I hear very few voices, mostly from the gentle questions of caregivers to the residents. My eyes search the room and then I see her. She is one of the stronger, livelier ones. She's straightening a tablecloth on a table (that doesn't need straightening) where she's been seated beside another woman sitting wrapped in a blanket with her eyes closed. As I make my way closer, she turns slowly, carefully, and then she sees me. Will she recognize me today? A bright smile adorns her face and her arms stretch wide to welcome me. We hug. I kiss her on her soft cheek. She squeals with joy at the sight of me -- and the Santa wreath I'm holding for her. She comments lovingly about her Christmas surprise, and she shows the wreath to her friends nearby.
"Look! Isn't it darling!" Some respond with an empty look in their eyes ... no one is home, sadly ... and others smile and oooh and ahhh. Then she happily and proudly holds her wreath and urges me to follow her to her room.
We spent the next half hour in her small room. She showed me her bed, her lamp, her blankets, her dresser, her little frig stocked with yogurt and fruit and juice ("...but I have no spoons!" ...), her tiny Christmas tree and manger scene by her bed, cards she'd received from friends, photos of her grandchildren and family, her laundry basket -- she pointed that out to me two or three times -- her private bathroom and shower liner.
Taking delight in her opportunity for Show and Tell, with a smile of approval I responded, "How nice everything is....You've taken such good care of your room and it's just beautiful! It's perfect." She asked me to hang her wreath on the wall and then she opened her card. When she saw the photo, she teared up.
"Your mother would be so proud of all of you. She can't be here this Christmas. It's such a shame. I miss her, and Mother too."
She glances at the photo again then she smiles once more, that familiar grin. I've seen it before on my own mother's face. Her sister has that same funny little grin when things amuse her.
I give her the tin of brownies. "For me? Ohhhhhhh-myyyyyy. Oh! They look so delicious!" We talk and visit and laugh and remember. I tell her funny and happy things. I reassure her, comfort her. I hold her hand and smile. We talk about the weather. We talk about her laundry basket. A lot. She reminds me again that she has no spoons to eat her yogurt and fruit. She tells me at least three times. I assure her that she'll have a spoon before I leave. (I later learned from her daughter via a text to me that she has tons of spoons but she hides them and then forgets where they are.)
We reminisce. We talk about the past and those who have gone before us.
I glance up to see my mother's picture above her bed and I blink away the stabbing pain of longing in my heart, smiling instead -- for her sake -- and reminding her how much my mother loved her.
As I get up to leave, I hug and kiss her. She thanks me over and over for the gifts, the brownies, for visiting and talking with her. And, as if on cue, as I turn to leave she pleads with me ...
I sympathize with
alcoholics. I've said this before, but honestly I do. Or any addict, for that
matter. Name your addiction, whatever it is. Addictions are nagging,
controlling, relentless, and they demand extreme discipline and vigilance.
Can they be overcome?
Yes. But it is NOT easy.
No man should judge
unless he asks himself in absolute honesty
whether in a similar
situation he might not have done the same.
-Viktor Frankl
author, neurologist and psychiatrist, Holocaust survivor
(1905-1997)
I think about how good I feel
when I eat clean and make good choices. I feel better, move easier, sleep
better, my skin is clearer, more energy ... the list goes on.
Why do I allow the sin of
temptation to sneak onto my shoulder at times and try to maniuplate me with its
taunts?
"Oh,
you poor thing. You can't eat THIS, can you. How tragic. It is so delicious...
Remember how it tastes? Remember how satisfying it is? But YOU can't have it
now. It's off limits to you....You just have to eat the same boring food over and
over and over..... Don't you get bored? Aren't you bored? Don't you feel cheated?
Look around you. Everyone is eating [this] and having the time of their life.
No one cares if you eat it or don't eat it.....You're just inflicting this pain
and deprivation on yourself. You're the only one who is suffering from it, you
know.....Just think how happy you'll feel when you eat [this]. It's really too bad
that you can't have such pleasures in life...shame..... What a pity..."
On and on and on, the taunting comes and goes.
When I'm strong, I thumb my nose at the voice of temptation. I ignore
it. I refocus my thoughts on how I good I feel when I'm eating clean.
And then there are times when I falter, fail, and feel sorry for myself
.... woe is me -- I begin believing the lies of The Voice.
And the self-sabotage happens. I suffer the consequences. And then the
cycle begins again.
I had this conversation with a friend of mine last night at the gym. We
laughed about it. Yeah, I suppose it is funny. But it's a demon that many of us
face on a daily basis.
I was searching for recipes
online the other day, trying to find a yummy appetizer recipe to wow my friends
at an upcoming Christmas party. In my search, I saw tons of delicious recipes
for cakes, cookies, breads, carb-and-fat loaded appetizers -- oh, the
temptation. I wanted it all. I found myself saving recipe after recipe to my
laptop.
Why? Am I gonna bake
all of this junk over the next few weeks? Just because "well, it's the
holidays, after all ... live a little." Really? That's the reason?
But what about AFTER
the holidays? When life returns to "normal" -- whatever that is -- and
people go about their daily lives, back to work, winter sets in, days drag on
...
Where will I find
myself?
With the extra weight
and sluggishness from the holiday indulgences?
Or will I be enjoying
the endorphins of clean eating, regular exercise, sufficient and uninterrupted
rest at night?
.... longing for what we miss what we cherish a longing for yesterday a longing to hold on and never ever let go a longing for a chance for a "do over" to say what we wish we would have said then and would give ANYTHING to say now.
Familiar conversations recalled over and over again in my head then shutting my eyes to silence them Choosing to suppress their surfacing the longing... unable to deal effectively with the hole in my heart just keep moving smiling boldly singing loudly running feverishly from here to there and back again desperately trying to mask the restlessness of longing...
Distractions redirect my helpless thoughts traffic chores errands music children's laughter simple pleasures and sunsets and warm crackling fires and cardio definitely cardio!
And when that inner storm of longing subsides and the lens comes into focus I am forced to count my blessings shamefully certain that I am indeed blessed beyond measure and knowing that life and love will go on.
My heart warms as I hear the distant and soft melody and I feel the Wonder of Yuletide... Christmastime has come once more.
My Saturday morning began with a HIIT session on the hill into our subdivision. I power walked to the hill (10 mins), then did eight high intensity intervals sprinting up the hill, then walking back down, then power walked back home. Felt wonderful, esp since I hadn't done HIIT in way too long. All set. I got in some exercise early, assuming I wouldn't have time for the gym today considering all that was on my list of to-do's.
Hoping to be ready to work lower body again by Monday evening. My leg feels SO MUCH better. I played it safe on Thursday and Friday, working arms on Thursday, and back on Friday, plus four sets of medium-heavy BB deadlifts. It was great being back to my game.
The rest of my Saturday was spent finishing up my decorations, and I gotta say, I've not enjoyed my decorating more in --- well, I don't even know how long. It has just all come together. I.LOVE.IT. All of it! I listened to carols all day as I decorated. I blasted one of my favorite CD's, Aaron Neville's Christmas, on my drive to Lowe's and Hobby Lobby to get some last minute things I'd forgotten. It was a beautiful sunny day, and I was on a SUPER high, filled with the Christmas Spirit, a sense of bliss, anticipation, giddiness even. (I think getting back to the gym served to enhance all of that as well!)
Speaking of Aaron Neville, I adore his version of "Go Tell It On the Mountain." If you can sit still why listening to that song, you're dead. Not breathing. You've checked out.
The day coming to an end, we showered and headed over to The Wine Valley around 7:45 to have a few glasses of wine and enjoy their live music. That place is ROCKIN'. So happy to see it doing well. Standing room only...they seriously need to expand. Since being there last they'd added more touches and flavor with the decor. Pure class. Nice ambiance. It feels so "big city." A nice way to end the day.
A few more finishing touches today, and my Christmas decorating will be all done. I can sit back and enjoy. Make this last... the season is never long enough. Never.
I'll be attending a Christmas party tonight -- an all girls party -- and there will be a lot of women there that I haven't seen or talked to in years. I hope I don't find myself in "entrapment mode." Of course, if I do, it may not be as awkward with a glass of wine. Our inhibitions always make awkward moments more -- well, awkward.
