Sunday, October 26, 2014

If Mama Ain't Happy......

I know I’ve talked about walking, my weight, and health issues; none of that has changed.  I’m still over-weight, my blood pressure still runs high, and I’m still walking on a fairly regular schedule. The weather has cooled down, the sun drops sooner, and the whole deal is more tolerable in these early months of fall.

But what I’m going to talk to you about today has nothing to do with any of that. How is your mental and emotional state of health? That’s what I’d like to know.  Are you happy where you work? Do you like the people that you work with? Because you know, you spend more of your waking hours with those people than you do your own family. And depending on how well you like all of the above, including your own family, is exactly what will propel your mind to be in the state it is at any given time.

Now I don’t know about the rest of you, but I have to talk about my feelings in order to feel better. The stresses of my job, my family, and just life in general; well, they just have to come out. To keep all that bottled up inside would cause a self-implosion for sure. I try and “share” my day with my family, and they “act” as if they are paying rapt attention to my every word; but ask them to repeat any of it back, and they would choke and turn blue trying to remember enough to recite it.

That’s what a good walking partner is for by golly, no headsets or ear-phones for me, no sir!  I want a live human being walking next to me, listening to my stream of struggles, my berating voice describing my horrendous day that started with me over-processing my curly, ratty hair, to hitting the huge pot-hole in my work parking lot and simultaneously splashing muddy water all over the side of my freshly washed truck. To dropping my too hot-to-touch lunch all over the break-room floor at work,  and finally, arriving home only to find out I had washed and dried my sons brand new pants with an ink pen in the pocket, which was now ALL over those pants, as he stood in the living room, holding them up for me to see.

Those are the things that walking partners share. Along with talk about husbands whose sensitivity gene is on the blink, children who never seem to have received a sensitivity gene at all, and both of who are only concerned with:  what’s for supper, when is it going to be ready, along with scrunched up faces to imply that’s not what either of them had in mind, as you come dragging in from work.

Walking is for my physical health first and foremost, but also for my mental health, because I’m sure jail-time wouldn’t allow me the hair products necessary for my “delicate” mane, or the Revlon Orange-Flip lipstick that would PERFECTLY accessorize with that outfit. Rational thinking? I’d say so. 

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