I can't decide if I want to be happier about finally shifting the scale to 173.6 or making my second to last debt payment. I should probably not put this in writing, as surely a tree will fall on my car when I do, but it's sort of weird to me that I'm going to be out of debt before I'm at a reasonable goal weight. At the start both, uhm, problems were equally severe but I sort of thought I'd fix the weight thing first. I guess two years ago I wanted to be thin more than I wanted to be solvent. Or maybe I just thought it would be easier to lose 50 pounds than pay off thousands of dollars in debt. I imagined I'd always be pushing a rock up a hill on that one.
Have I ever mentioned exactly how much debt I had? No. I'd much rather tell strangers about my flesh rolls than leave that number to posterity. I suppose your weight is a more difficult secret to keep. When you're broke it's easy to pretend you're not, no one knows but you and your creditors. It comes to the same of ignoring a problem and having it snowball and then getting lost in an avalanche. Looking back, I don't know how I survived. I just don't know how I got through the days.
I've been doing a lot of taking stock lately, trying to appreciate what I have. All of my frustrations seem to be coming to a head at a very bad time. I suppose that's a little redundant because there is no good time for your frustrations to come to a head. "Frustrations" are by definition "frustrating". Otherwise they would be called "good times" and there would be ponies and mixed drinks and balloon animals. I like to think I've learned that you have to go through hard times to have good times but the concept is an easier sell when everything goes right.
This morning there was this thing on the radio about summing up your life in three words. We never listen to the radio. We usually listen to books on the morning commute but we just finished Harry Potter number four (Matt is very concerned about the return of this Voldemort character!) and there wasn't enough time to start something new. One of the radio examples was "running is prozac", which really resonated with me and how I'm feeling lately. I keep telling myself I'm not supposed to be running and yet I can't seem to stop. I've gone out every day since Sunday. There is some part of me that wants to be outside and running and it's screaming louder than my injury. I think I was supposed to hear the radio this morning and get some validation on my needs.
My three words: Meant to be.
What are yours?