Get Off Your Cinnabons

How many of you have quiet days when your brain will simply not shut up? My brain has a mind of its own (yes, I know that’s redundant). It sometimes does not listen to reason, pleas, or threats.
 
And unlike my body, it also does not respond to chips, ice cream, or Snickers bars.
 
I think the hardest part of being alone is battling your inner demons. And you have to know those demons are not always angry and nasty. But they are incessant. For me, they always second-guess my every action.
 
It is this voice that nags and nags and nags. It is reminiscent of those days when my Mom would repeatedly remind me to clean my room. And in my mind, it was clean. I mean, why chase away dust bunnies when they just come back?
 
But as an adult, these voices are more antagonistic. Why are you being so lazy? Why are you crying over spilt milk? Why can’t you lose those last five pounds? Get off your Cinnabons and do something.
 
Every once in a while, though, I do hear, “You’ve got this girl. You’ve earned a break. Take four and a half minutes but no more than five!”
 
So, in the last five minutes I was awarded I found myself yet again lost in yesteryear remembering a magical time when I was starstruck by a certain young man.
 
I remember attending a junior high track team pool party and holding hands for the first time. In reality, I was probably petrified, but in my memory, I grinned like a mischievous Cheshire cat. I felt like the luckiest girl there. Even though we were two of the least likely kids to be envied for our connection.
 
Oh geez, I loved the innocence of my adolescence. Memories often serve us well, don’t they? If we manage them efficiently, they can melt away all of the day’s misgivings. And I have become a master of memory management.
 
But then, the break is over, and life dangles its challenges again ever so relentlessly. You stand up, listen to your knees whine, and hope that soon the touch of a loving hand will give you new memories for future breaks.
 
And you smile. No matter the hardships we endure, life is an angelic gift. If you ever forget that, just look around you. As soon as you learn to kick the voices to the curb, I am confident blessings will abound. Ah, but that is fodder for yet another rant.
 

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