For those of you that have read my Good Intention. Bad Execution. post, you know that not too long ago I found myself having an existential dating crisis on the cold tile floor of my bathroom. Dude. I know. Low point.
I decided soon after that fiasco that the next logical choice was online dating. You can thank that horrible decision for the creation of this blog. Want to laugh at my pain? Go read January-March posts and slam your head on your desk repeatedly like I did.
After those three eye-stabbing months, I started Project Peach Cadet on April 2, 2012. In short, I said to hell with everything else. I needed to get right with ME and only me.
Translation of my man-scrawl: You are right now reading the words of a non-smoking, CrossFit-ing, healthy eater who cut WAY back on the drinking. (NOTE: Shitty days don’t count in the moderation of red wine.)
Not so fast with the celebratory cheering. Everything checked off is physical. Getting oneself fit pales in comparison to un-fucking oneself emotionally. All I’ve managed to figure out so far via PPC is that my heart is a mess.
It’s no mystery why. It’s been conditioned by injury. I have no other choice but to swaddle it tightly and hide it from the potential risk of further pain. Protect it by all means necessary. Scratch and snarl at anything that dares to come too close.
But no more. I need to open my heart to love again. More gracefully. Less belly-flopping. No stupidity. I’ve agreed to go on a few dates.
On the non-romantic side of the emotional fix-age, flinging myself into the pool of Happy has been much more refreshing. I’ve begun to remember how to live fully, freely and without fear of judgment. Before moving South, my vacation days were reserved for family visits. Now that my loved ones are nearby, I am free to sate my wanderlust. If I want to go see the world, I can and will!!! Portland and Vegas, you’re first. Get ready for Peach!
But here’s the best news, EVER. Ready?
So, I may or may not have been gazing adoringly at Camp Mighty for a year. The weekend encourages dream-chasing, making possible the impossible, and attacking your life list with gusto – all with the help of people you meet there. You give of yourself and your own skills so that others may do the same. They have inspirational speakers that don’t suck. I’m so intimidated by its awesomeness that I never imagined I’d gather the ladyballs to attend. But I did it. I am registered for Camp Mighty! OMG.
Taking one last squinty-eyed look at my list, I am confident my physical changes have become a solid new way of life. Good. I may still be fighting with my impatience to be heart-healed, but while I work on that I’m going to keep swimming around in the Happy. I can promise you I’ll be getting all kinds of pruny, making sure the Happy gets all in my ears and up my nose… while gently allowing my heart to be a little braver every day.