Progress. It doesn't mean a number on a scale, or a size on your pants.
To me, it means making strides toward a goal.
And I'm doing it.
I started my experiment several weeks ago, and I'm keeping up with it. The number on the scale and the size on my pants have stayed about the same.
In the past, that would have scared the shit out of me.
This time, I'm grateful. Grateful for my own patience, grateful for myself, grateful for time, grateful for my family, and grateful for my good friend, Angie.
Angie has kind of turned into my life coach (whether she knows it or not.) She has been a rock. When I feel out of control, or sad, or happy, or I'm in pain, she knows just what to say and how to say it. She sends me the most perfect articles or websites that she knows I need just at that moment.
Angie has been teaching me how I need to take care of and love myself, before I can help others, or even move on to my own goals.
Although I'm somewhat of a perfectionist and have no patience, she knows how to put me in my place and tell me to slow down. She can even make me calm and relaxed when there is a jackhammer digging up the street right outside the window.
And I need that, at least for right now.
I'm making progress. I can feel things changing, and I can sense that, deep inside my soul, there is a stirring. Something needs to come out. I don't know what, but I'm so excited to see what it will be.
