EHFAR

My niece had a bumper sticker on her car that said : EHFAR, being unhip to the lingo which happens generationally, I asked innocently enough what is EHFAR?  careful to use correct pronunciation. She looked at me like I had head lice and said, “what?” so I pointed to her car, her face lighting up, “Oh, that means EVERYTHING HAPPENS FOR A REASON.” she replied, throwing a giggle my way. I remember thinking to myself “that is the stupidest thing I think I have ever heard, but whatever;  everyone needs guideposts to live by.” I only let EHFAR linger in my thoughts for a brief moment before discarding it to the Pile of Malarkey I keep around in the back of my grey cells in case I need info on trivia night. Recently I have been revisiting this idea.

Things happen around me that I have a hard time making sense of. Everyday events some small and insignificant,some life changing. EHFAR makes me angry. I want to shake my fist at the sky and yell and stomp about. I am not one to easily accept the notion that shit happens for a reason. It is a meaningless,all encompassing idea some tree hugger came up with to explain away a trivial pain of a friend.  But? what if they are right?  Have I gotten so busy living life that I have missed signals? What if EHFAR is like a stop sign at a busy intersection? warning you to pay attention? but being wrapped up in a thought bubble you miss it and blow through the sign? what then?

Knowing the reason why something happens does not necessarily give you peace. Sometimes it just makes a mystery more complex. It often fills me with more questions than answers. Everything does happen for a reason. I am just uncertain to know what the reason is.

Capable or Culpable ?

You decide. On this journey, we all must choose what we are. Capable? Willing? Wanting? Or ?

I make it no secret that I am a semi-active member of Weight Watchers. I say semi-active because while I attend my meeting most weeks I haven’t been “living” the program for a very long time. I could list a bunch of excuses, but really c’mon who wants to hear that BS? Life is an undertaking. The world continues to go on even when you don’t. I am capable. Very as a matter of fact. What I am is not willing. There is a part of me that is unwilling to try to be part of my solution instead of most of my issue. Do you get what I am trying to say? I get lost in the anger of my life. Perhaps anger is not even the correct feeling. I am frustrated. I am sad. I am disappointed. I am overwhelmed. I feel like there is never enough. Enough happiness, enough sunshine, enough love, enough peace, enough of whatever magic ingredient I feel that I am missing. Maybe there isn’t enough of me. I don’t give enough of myself to me so I can be more capable and less culpable.

I overeat that is why I am overweight. Simple. If you put 5lbs of sugar into a 2lb bag the contents will spill out. I am culpable. No one else is to blame for what I have done to my body, to myself. Just me.

What’s next? I think the answer lies in the questions. What do I want for myself? Am I capable? or am I more comfortable in the role of “won’t do”? Do I have enough faith in myself? Am I willing to embrace this program? to come to terms with the fact that left unattended I will always make the wrong choice because it is the easier path? Am I ready?

I need to look at each of the questions. I need to work on finding what works for me and what doesn’t . I need to be more into my success and less in to why I keep faltering. I don’t have all the answers. I will work this journey one moment at a time. I know I can do this. I want this.

Why Ask Why?

The coolest question ever, maybe. I used to drive my Mom crazy asking her questions. It seems I have been searching for something my whole life. Aging has not changed my ways. I am always asking why, I am always searching for an answer. My life doesn’t change if I don’t ask for the things I need, the things I want and the things I want to understand. I write my thoughts down to help myself sort out the crap. I was drawn to blogging.  It is easier for me to articulate my feelings and set them afloat on the world wide web than it is to make yet another journal no one will ever read. I want to be heard. I want to be seen; not looked at or through. I want to matter.

So why ask why? when the questions stop coming and the answers evade there is no need to find the end of the rainbow, or the cure for cancer, or why puppies make me happy and Christmas makes me cry. Why ask why? I am not ready to give up on the answers.