We Interrupt This Life. . .

Yesterday was full of interruptions. Outside interruptions, internal interruptions, over and over and over. I just couldn’t get into a rhythm of working to save my life. Today I am tired and aching. No, I don’t have the flu. It’s a combination of hypothyroid symptoms, chronic poor sleep, working out a tad too hard and pretending I can keep up with a two year old.

Still, I heeded the message from my body: if you don’t take a nap in the very near future, you will be sorry. So, I ignored all the monsters shouting about how I can’t rest until I’ve earned it and blah, blah, blah. I took an hour-long, juicy nap and awoke if not completely refreshed, at least more recharged. Yu know, like when you see your cell phone has one bar left and you can only charge it part way, but it’s enough to keep it going til you can plug it in over night.

This set me up for an afternoon with my nephew and some household chores, although I was cautious not to overdo it. I also went to bed an hour early and discovered a) what’s keeping me from shedding the layer of flab my thyroid caused me to add and b) my body and mind do a lot of detoxing in the first couple of hours of sleep.


I’ve had this little war going on inside me concerning how best to lose this little 8-10 pound layer that has settled on my tummy, hips and thighs in the last year. On one side is the thought that only hard work (lots of running and strength training) and deprivation (1200 calories/day) will do the trick. On the other side is the thought that if I just relaxed a bit more, the fat would just melt away.

I’ve mostly gone the first route, out of the fear that if I relax my guard at all I’ll wind up stuffing my face and living on the couch. Plus, when I’ve been super strict I’ve managed to budge the number on the scale the teensiest bit. I haven’t had any real results though. I am getting in better and better shape, but it’s still camoflauged by the fat.

I’ve had this nagging suspicion that relaxation is what’s really going to work. When I go on vacation and just let myself move and eat according to what I feel in the moment, I almost always wind up losing weight. I’m usually eating more and moving less, so all I can conclude from this is that just letting go makes the difference.

I had this mini-epiphany last night: you can’t mold a lump of clay that’s dry and rigid; it has to be soft and malleable (relaxed) before you can even begin to really do anything with it. Aha! Metaphor magicked–I now have an image to keep me on my relaxation path. It’s scary, this letting go. But even if it doesn’t help with the flab, being in a relaxed state is still good for the rest of my body (and mind).

Detox a-go-go

*TMI Alert*

I have been sooooo frustrated by the fact that no matter how little I drink and how often I visit the loo before bed, I still wake up a couple of hours in with a busting bladder. I’ve also been waking up from nightmares/anxiety dreams. Conclusion? My body and mind are doing a hell of a lot of detoxing in those two hours. Detoxing is good, won’t last forever (I hope), and so I’m just going to go with it (hee, hee–should have put a  “bad pun alert” above, too).

Here’s the new routine and how I’m turning it into a positive:

  • Drift off to sleep.
  • Wake up from a terrifying dream with heart pounding and bladder busting.
  • Head to loo, scrawl notes from dream (which seem like they would make for some good short stories).
  • Shake it off and head back to bed for some decent sleep.

In short

Interruptions=annoying but useful for learning. Naps=good. Go with the flow=hot, happy body. Also, the bad pun gene I’ve inherited is alive and well.

* * *

Comment about anything you want, but what I really want to know is: what’s your favorite pun?


  1. The “loo?” Can we say, are you married to a British guy?

    My favorite pun? When Aunt Kathy dropped a can of shaving cream on her toe in the shower and Uncle Mike asked her if she wanted him to call the “tow truck.”

    Check out Dean Ornish’s newest book…Spectrum or something. You’ll like it.

    • For one whole year!

      That’s a good pun. I mean good one.


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