Changes

It's funny, I used to think that I was a "fly by the seat of my pants" kind of gal. I used to pride myself on it. It took me until the ripe age of 35 to realize that I am anything but. I like structure; I like having a plan, a routine; in fact, I thrive on that. This can work well, to a point. If taken too much to the extreme, I've found, my routine can turn into a rut.

Whatever the reason, I realize that I have spent a very long time fighting change. I make countless lists: projects that need to get done, bills to be paid, schedules for chores, menus, grocery lists, you name it. I am obsessive about our finances, creating and recreating our budget into infinity; admittedly, I used to check our bank account balance several times a day. I have spent a huge amount of time in the pursuit of control... and I tend to freak out when something happens to upset the delicate illusion of said control that I have created for myself.

So, I entered into this new way of eating, this healthy lifestyle, in much the same way I have approached virtually every other area of my life: with a plan. And a set of rules that I created for myself that was above and beyond what was already laid out for me. In some ways, the plan has worked; it got me this far. But in other ways, it has backfired miserably. For the past few days, although I have not strayed from the Beach, I have felt largely demotivated. Not all that interested in the eating plan I've been working so hard on. Like I was walking on a treadmill, going nowhere. In a rut.

Note that a lot of what I have said so far has been "I" have done this, "I" have done that... for "myself." In all of my hard work to create a routine, to maintain control, to be perfect (oh, a whole other can of worms, which I will expand on another time), I have succeeded in isolating myself. I have become an island. This, incidentally, is not the first time this observation has been made; it has appeared on more than one report card and at least a couple of (ahem) work performance reviews. But it is probably the first time I've admitted it to more than just myself and Dave.

But slowly, over the past few days, I have been receiving more and more response to this blog -- all very positive -- and I have to say that it has touched me, and helped me to realize that there has been something very big missing from my approach: sharing -- truly sharing -- my experience with others, and accepting their support and feedback. It really is amazing how energizing, how reinvigorating, that can be. I have for so long avoided reaching out, I suppose because the more people I involve in my life the less "control" I have over it (yes, I realize how ridiculous that probably sounds), but it's very clear to me now how much I've been missing out.

I don't know, maybe somewhere inside there IS a "fly by the seat of my pants" personality fighting to get out. That could explain why a routine that for a time was feeling right would come to a point where it felt so wrong. And maybe, after nearly six months with an infant in the house, the concept of chaos has become less frightening.

But I do know that allowing others into my life to experience the changes with me has turned out to be far less scary than I thought.