What if I choose myself? What if I choose to do the things that I know are right for me? What if I stop sabotaging myself? What if I stop letting myself down? Just what if…

It’s spring. The sun and my toes are out, the air is fresh, and I’m feeling pretty good today. My world is filled with possibilities and hope, and I feel like it’s time for me to start blooming. It’s time for me to choose me.

Whenever  I start writing on this blog, I am so very hopeful that I will make writing a priority in my life again. I used to love to write. Scratch that — I used to make time to write. I used to speak of my muse, and I used to take fingers to keys and let my mind go crazy. I used to exhale onto the page, and I could feel the physical relief once my thoughts were expressed. I used to pursue my passion…

But then…

I used to go to the gym for hours a day on my way home from work. I used to ride the recumbent bike for 45 minutes, then take a 45 minute step class.  I used to take kickboxing classes where the sweat would pour off my body, and then go home and make a healthy dinner.  I used to have a coordination and stamina that made me feel alive. I used to put the effort into getting stronger…

But then…

There was a time when I visited a naturopath to find healthy ways to improve my health. I used to spend days at a yoga retreat in Massachusetts, walking barefoot in the grass. I used to eat only natural foods, and I stayed away from gluten. I used to drink water and all kinds of tea and organic goodness. I used to care deeply about protecting my body from toxins…

But then… but then… but then I stopped. I stopped exercising and I stopped thinking about how different foods affected my body and health, and I stopped writing. I know when it started, but I am still not certain — or ready to admit — why I stopped choosing Reese. What I do know is that I am so terribly sorry I did.

It’s easy to blame this whole demise of caring for myself on my womanhood. It’s so easy to say that marriage and motherhood took my eyes away from me.  It’s unbelievably easy to blame my husband’s kidney failure and the challenges of my four stepchildren, and everything that goes along with being the second wife and the stepmother for my choice to nurture others before myself. It’s easy to blame the hormones and the madness of womaning for all the ills of my life.

It’s easy to say that the long, daily commute to work and the long work days have taken a toll on my free time. It’s easy to say going out to lunch every single day makes it acceptable to make bad choices. It’s so easy to come up with excuses. Why isn’t it just as easy to choose what’s best for myself?

I have definitely made some bad personal choices in my life. I have chosen bad friends, bad foods, bad churches, and a host of bad mates, and suffered the many and varied consequences of each bad decision. And I am so very tired of wallowing in puddles of mistakes.

I am a self-help junkie. I love the inspirational quotes, motivational weight loss transformations, any book written by Elizabeth Gilbert, recommended by Oprah, or mentioned by Glennon Doyle Melton.  I love watching people pursue their passions, and I’m interested in books and articles about how artists of all kinds have followed their dreams. There’s a reason I’m drawn to stories of growth and transformation.  My heart craves growth. My mind desires renewal. It’s simply time to choose goodness for myself.

So… today, I count as my day 1 to finding out what happens when I choose me. In the recent months, I’ve taken baby steps towards bettering my physical, mental and emotional health, but today I’m committing to choose me, and I’m committing to make time for me, and I’m committing to do those things that benefit my health. And to keep me on track, I’m coming back to my happy place  ( no, not the mall…). I’m coming back to writing.

Today is a good day.

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