“Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.” ~Unknown
I’ve always believed in the benefits of having a healthy, strong body.
I admit, as a young adult my healthiness was driven predominantly by fear. Fear of being fat. Fear of being sick. Fear of missing out at events (aka FOMO).
So, I went to the gym, I ran, I dieted, I had strict rules, and if I followed them I’d be okay… or so believed.
From my daughter’s perspective, I wasn’t much fun to live with. She preferred reading and dabbled in ballet and horse riding. But the gym? Definitely not. Running? Hell no!
So, I did what any fear-driven mom would do. I exerted my will. I forced her to participate. Because I knew better! Didn’t I?
I coerced, cajoled, and even threatened.
In my limited view, she was simply being lazy. Nothing that a bit of “discipline” couldn’t fix, right?
She’d eventually do it. Begrudgingly. Just to get me off her back. And, no surprise, she hated it (and, probably, me too).
Continue reading PLEASE
Although being passionate about anything in that breath-taking way went out of the door with the mood-levelling medication I realised only on Friday last that when I haven't done any painting for a while I get really frustrated with life. And it was only helping children paint some wooden crosses for Easter!
No comments:
Post a Comment