A Dog is Always a Dog, But.....
I had a dream a few nights ago that has been invading my waking thoughts.
I dreamed that I went home for a weekend visit, home being the condo where my mother still lives. My bedroom, which is really now a den, was back to being my room and my sister was still living in her room, which is now really a guest room. My father was still alive in this dream and my mother was healthy and, contrary to anything that would be true in real life, I was glad to be home. There was a party happening downstairs and I was supposed to get ready and then join the hilarity.
Everything was great, but I was wistful. I told my mom that I missed Droopy, my childhood dog. My mom smiled and said, "He's back. He's just under there." At that point, Droopy, my old basset hound, crawled out from under my parents bed and ran to me, ears bouncing with each stride. I was so happy to see him that it didn't hit me at first that he was saying my name. Gradually though, I began to listen and not only was he saying my name, but other one word sentences that actually made sense. I looked at my mom, the question unspoken. "He's been doing that since he's come back," she said, as if it were nothing out of the ordinary.
I sat down with Droopy and told him how much I missed him and how I loved him, and as we talked his conversational skills grew, until by the time we went downstairs he was talking just like a person and making more sense than most. The party was going full guns and I noticed that people from my past and present were all co-mingled and that everyone was having a great time just chatting and eating and doing the ordinary party things. I tried to get people to chat with my dog, and to see what an incredible miracle this was, but most people just smiled and pet him, praising him for his cool new trick. Eventually, I quit trying and settled down to talk with friends, family and dog.
At the end of the party, as my dog and sat alone in the living room, I expressed my confusion. "Why couldn't they see what a miracle you are?" I asked.
Droopy, who would have shrugged his shoulders if that were actually possible for Basset Hounds to do, answered with these words. "I'm a dog. No matter what I do, I'll still be a dog." I was about to protest that he was now so much more when he stopped me, by continuing. "I am, however, a dog who's done an amazing thing, and anybody who cares enough to really look will know that. It's enough."
That's when I woke up.
So, yeah, that dream speaks to me. Of course it does, right? It was my dream. One of the things I struggle with is that I expect things to be different when I lose weight, saying things to myself like "if only I were thin..." Well, you fill in the blank. The last time, when I saw I was getting close, I stopped losing and gained most of it back. Part of me, I know, is afraid of what might change if I do lose the weight, and part of me is afraid nothing will change. The dream, however, was sent to remind me, either by myself, or yeah, okay, I'll admit it, I think by God, that it doesn't matter whether things change or not. I'll still be me. I'll always be me, but I'll be me that did something amazing.
So now for the report. This week I did not really exercise, nor did I drink enough water or eat enough veggies, but still, I stayed within my points despite yet another potluck, and being ill for two days, and therefore home with the food. I had a good loss
I dreamed that I went home for a weekend visit, home being the condo where my mother still lives. My bedroom, which is really now a den, was back to being my room and my sister was still living in her room, which is now really a guest room. My father was still alive in this dream and my mother was healthy and, contrary to anything that would be true in real life, I was glad to be home. There was a party happening downstairs and I was supposed to get ready and then join the hilarity.
Everything was great, but I was wistful. I told my mom that I missed Droopy, my childhood dog. My mom smiled and said, "He's back. He's just under there." At that point, Droopy, my old basset hound, crawled out from under my parents bed and ran to me, ears bouncing with each stride. I was so happy to see him that it didn't hit me at first that he was saying my name. Gradually though, I began to listen and not only was he saying my name, but other one word sentences that actually made sense. I looked at my mom, the question unspoken. "He's been doing that since he's come back," she said, as if it were nothing out of the ordinary.
I sat down with Droopy and told him how much I missed him and how I loved him, and as we talked his conversational skills grew, until by the time we went downstairs he was talking just like a person and making more sense than most. The party was going full guns and I noticed that people from my past and present were all co-mingled and that everyone was having a great time just chatting and eating and doing the ordinary party things. I tried to get people to chat with my dog, and to see what an incredible miracle this was, but most people just smiled and pet him, praising him for his cool new trick. Eventually, I quit trying and settled down to talk with friends, family and dog.
At the end of the party, as my dog and sat alone in the living room, I expressed my confusion. "Why couldn't they see what a miracle you are?" I asked.
Droopy, who would have shrugged his shoulders if that were actually possible for Basset Hounds to do, answered with these words. "I'm a dog. No matter what I do, I'll still be a dog." I was about to protest that he was now so much more when he stopped me, by continuing. "I am, however, a dog who's done an amazing thing, and anybody who cares enough to really look will know that. It's enough."
That's when I woke up.
So, yeah, that dream speaks to me. Of course it does, right? It was my dream. One of the things I struggle with is that I expect things to be different when I lose weight, saying things to myself like "if only I were thin..." Well, you fill in the blank. The last time, when I saw I was getting close, I stopped losing and gained most of it back. Part of me, I know, is afraid of what might change if I do lose the weight, and part of me is afraid nothing will change. The dream, however, was sent to remind me, either by myself, or yeah, okay, I'll admit it, I think by God, that it doesn't matter whether things change or not. I'll still be me. I'll always be me, but I'll be me that did something amazing.
So now for the report. This week I did not really exercise, nor did I drink enough water or eat enough veggies, but still, I stayed within my points despite yet another potluck, and being ill for two days, and therefore home with the food. I had a good loss