Our Bodies, Our Shelves or Mission: Back on the Wagon

Does anyone remember a couple of years back when I made it abundantly clear that I have trouble finishing the things I start?

Um...yeah.

Well, on the plus size...I mean side, plus side ...at least I've never lied to you.

So, what the hell have I been doing in the 20 months it took me to blog again? Well, for those of you who haven't yet been initiated, I started a channel on YouTube while living in New York. Which you can find by clicking here www.youtube.com/JahairasMission . I began making videos in the hopes that one or two people might find me entertaining, and a surprising number of people caught on. I'm still blown away by the support that I've received on that channel, and for those of you who have come over here to read this blog, I thank you from the very bottom of my heart.

      I also moved to Boston for a few months, which was yet one more gross error in judgement (in case I've been lacking in that department). I've since relocated to Kentucky, which is probably the first decision I've made that actually seems to be the right one for me. In an astonishing moment of clarity, I came to the realization that I'd never truly lived alone in my adult life. Whether there was a man or a child involved, I'd always been in the company of another. Which made focusing on their needs and not my own a whole lot easier. So, as is wont to happen with women the world over, my needs went on the shelf for a while.

Listen, I could give you 150 excuses as to why I let this mission/my mission/myself go, but the bare-bones truth is deceptively simple. When you are not a priority in your own life, you will find any number of reasons why something external is more important than you, and the pathology oftentimes runs so very deeply that those reasons seem perfectly logical. As for me, eventually, I just got tired of making excuses for my own damn behavior.

I don't know how many of you are like this, but for me, the feeling I get when I'm determined and the feeling I get when I'm pissed-off are remarkably similar. I'm 32 years old now, and I want to achieve SOMETHING. I'm not a homeowner, I don't know how to drive, hell, I can't even whistle. And this mission directly correlates whether or not I'll see 50 years old. Which, if only to prove to myself that I can, is something I'd really like to do. So I'm getting back on the wagon, people. And I'm not stopping until the fat lady can sing her way into a size 18. I'm not putting a time limit on myself, screw the 100 pounds in 1 year. I may have failed at that, but I will not fail at this.

Because this time...it's about me.

***Author's Note:. I wrote this blog shortly after midnight on September 11, only now recognizing the 10-year anniversary of a morning that forever changed America. Perhaps one thing has nothing to do with the other, but I would be remiss here if I didn't acknowledge the brevity of such a day, and stand in remembrance with the rest of the country.  America, like myself, is learning to heal. - JC