I have been avoiding writing this all day because I don’t want to see myself. I don’t want to reveal all the ways I do a disservice to myself.
A year ago today, I hugged a tree for the first time. It’s “my tree” now, and I visit it, at times. See, I didn’t say often. I don’t go into nature often. I think I should, and I know it does me good, but I also avoid it, in the same way that I avoid other things that are good for me, and that I want (or think I want – I suppose this needs deeper examination): going to bed early, eating more veggies, eating less sugar, and not snacking at night. Everyday I face these bad habits, and watch as they kick my ass, again. And again. And again. When will I finally say enough is enough, and take control of my life?
Reframing the habits is a start. Even if the habit doesn’t change, the difference between saying, “I’m incapable of going to bed early”, and “I choose to stay up late”, is one of choice, of control, of knowing that I define my life by my choices and that I do have control, or at least, the illusion of it.
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Drawn From the Fire 