Several things this week, folks. Several not so great things. First, I had to drive up to Portland and sit in an office for seven hours. With very nice people, but still. Then I had to drink a beer because a co-worker wanted to treat me to celebrate that I'm retiring next week. Next I hurt my knee somehow and hobbled around pitifully for several days. As if that weren't enough, the termperature in Salem spiked to a point which is humanly unreasonable, leading me to 1) lie around whining about the heat, and 2) crave ice cream. And then there was the fact that my sorry scale was not reflecting the great sacrifices i was making, including giving up ice cream in this heat, for five whole days.
In short, I have been frustrated. I have been fretting as well which caused me to make up a brand new word: fretstrating. At least it's new to me. It's a word I may be using a bit for the next six months as I whittle away at the weight. But to be honest, I've rediscovered some other words as well, one of which is patience. Patience to move gently, but keep moving until my knee recovers. Patience with myself as I learn to say, 'No thank you.' Patience to wait out the heat and the sorry scale to find on day six I've lost a couple of pounds.
I like to think of myself as a patient person (also kind, generous, and, certainly, humble), but i've found this first week I'm not as patient as I had thought. When I find myself becoming 'fretstrated' in the future, I'd like to remember that patience will take me a lot further than getting bogged down in the whys and wherefores of how things are not going as well as I had dreamed. If I don't remember this very basic thought, I may find myself someday soon furtively opening the freezer with a big spoon in my hand, trading my fretstrations for the cold, sweet taste of failure.