The Illusionist

I shocked myself today. I was thinking through my week, planning days, mentally tallying the rotating to do list that never seems to really be finished, when I realized that I may not be able to get to the gym on Tuesday.

I work out junkie, I feel a sense of accomplishment at my "5 day a week" routine. Keeping healthy physically, to keep sane mentally, became a cheaper source of therapy around the time of my separation over two years ago. It came to replace the wine and Sex and the City addiction that had been gradually eating away at my practicality and my waistline, and for that, I am thankful. It was a healthy decision. So of course, it has stayed that way. Losing weight, feeling good and working out became a small stepping stone in the bigger lesson of living my life with discipline, dedication, and confidence that I had lacked when I was in my early years of youth and decision making. It was one of those few things that become a healthy habit that gave me that small sense of accomplishment leading me to bigger, riskier moves.

With all that as an understanding of what my "healthy habit" had brought me, what really shocked me is that as I realized I might not be able to fit a workout in, I actually thought about skipping a class to go to the gym. Okay we have just reached critical level. I would be willing to skip a class at a school that is costing me $40,000.00 a year, for an hour of cardio. 

"Hi my name is Sara, and I am a gymaholic." 

It got me thinking two important questions: 1) Why is this so important, and 2) where the hell are my priorities?

The priorities thing doesn't really shock me. As I continue to grow through a delayed sense of adolescence, more and more I see the selfishness I wear like a Cynthia Rowly dress and it is starting to piss me off. 

I had a conversation with my brother the other day, and we were talking about my generation and the sense of entitlement that a lot of my peers carry around. "The MTV generation," he said. "You all grew up on Spring Break, Cribs and My Sweet Sixteen." 

I laughed as he said it if only because I had been addicted to Cribs for a while in high school. He was right though. I am apart of a generation that is all about what they can get, how they can get it, who they can manipulate, how they can show it off and then how can they discard it for the next shiny thing. And I... am no different. That being said, continued talking about the lust for drama and attention, and some women never grow out of it. I revealed how even though I am an attention addict, thousands of dollars of therapy have helped me chip of a section of it enough to not be a total ass to hang out with. He said he grew out of it when it started volunteering. 

I almost wet my pants laughing while at the same time wanting to throw something as I realized that while I had spent thousands of dollars on intense therapy, my brother had spent nothing, and given time with the same outcome. Awesome. I am a product of my environment.

The only reason I tell that little ditty is because it was a great example of my priorities. If it is between getting my hands dirty and doing something for someone else, or spending  a ridiculous amount of money for an hour dedicated to talking about myself... well lets just say, I wish I had stashed the money, shut my mouth, and learned I wasn't that important by making someone else important. The irony cuts like a knife.

The second question is more interesting, but still, just as revealing of the same fact. Why has it become so important? The illusion of control and success. See I jumped off a cliff the other day. I took a little bit of a leap and did something I am not sure I am comfortable with yet, but going to get there anyways. 

I quit my job. Not that I was making oodles of money there, but it was enough to get me through the stressful times or the worries about upcoming expenses. It was a "cushion" if you will. Well, not that it was a demand, but God definitely laid it on my heart to give it up, and open that time to Him, and the worries about finances at His feet. 

Well, since I lost control of one area, why not freak out about another? Awesome. Just awesome. 

Even though it is all an illusion, and even though I know I was hiding behind to the job, the loss of time and the ease, I can't anymore, and I refuse to let the gym (which I don't even make money at) become a habit that turns into a vice. 

How I am going to do just that I am not sure, but we shall see. 

I will say though, if I get fat, I am going to be pissed about that.