Goal Time...

Yesterday's blog marked the 156th nonfiction piece of the year. Which was the number I needed to hit in nonfiction to make my overall goal, assuming I write all of the fiction pieces. 

I thought it was a funny day to make that goal considering I was talking about my year of being instead of doing in part of that blog. Hit the goals while preparing to not have goals to hit. 

When I told Brent I had already hit that number so I should actually sail right past the total this year he said, "Well that's typical for you. You set a goal, pad it so it's more of a stretch and then just go beyond it anyway. It's kind of how your mind works."

It is.

It's also why WW didn't work for me. Oh if I lose 5 pounds I get a star? And it doesn't matter how often I do that I keep getting stars? Cool! I will hit my goal weight and keep getting those stars! Yee Haw!

Oops.

It's important to know how your brain is broken, assuming you have a broken brain, so you can work with it.

When I was trying to lose weight I couldn't track calories because I quickly turned it into a game. How few can I eat and still function? If I got a "good job" from the tracker yesterday for 1200 calories how about today at 1000? And if I was fine at 1000 how about 900? And so on...Intermittent fasting became the same thing. Well if I'm not supposed to eat for 8 hours how about 10? 12? 20? The baggage I carry around weight is too high for me to be able to safely do a lot of those things. 

Which I'm really trying not to anymore anyway. I'm trying to always focus on how healthy I am instead of how "thin" which honestly even at my lightest weight I'm not really thin. I'm not built that way and my brain refuses to see me that way even when it happens. So trying to reframe around health is a really good thing for me. Gives me something to focus on that isn't so problematic. 

So my arm being bunged up is causing me a little bit of a problem. See I can't lift weights. I can't grip things. Especially heavy things. I can't carry things. Until it's healed I'm really limited. I can't even do body weight stuff if it's reliant on arm usage (pushups and such). And at 55 muscle tone fades at an alarmingly quick rate.

When the doctor told me it could take between 18 months and 2 years to totally heal I about lost my teeth. What? He laid out all of the percentages and the reasons for why it takes so long to totally heal. He gave me the options. And I went home thinking well we will do the most conservative let's see if maybe I'm in the 12% that it heals quickly and on it's own. Talking to Brent about it and the time lines I said, "Oh, if we go to Hawaii this spring I'm not going to be able to kayak."

That's when I called and got the price for the PRP therapy that has the 80% success rate in 12 weeks. 

Because I want to be able to kayak. 

I want to do the physical things that bring me joy for as long as I possibly can. 

That's what being healthy is to me. Wow. By George, I think she's got it! 

Hopefully. Hopefully I can hold on to that mindset. Maybe MAYBE at 55 I've finally broken free from the broken part of my brain that my mother, my aunt, every magazine, and pop culture laid in there that thin is the most important thing to be.  

Can you even imagine?

So today is the 157th nonfiction blog. Sailing past that goal number. Wrapping up the last of the year of goals to be ready for the year of being. And still discovering how I want to be.