Where It Begins

 

I went to the local organic market this morning, and while browsing the aisles, I spotted something new--veggie hot dogs "smoked style." They were bigger than average, and looked very intriguing. I've been on this quest for the perfect vegetarian hot dogs* ever since I stopped being able to find Morningstar Farm's version in the grocery stores. So I picked up a pack and tossed them into the cart.

Four hours later, I'm feeling a little light headed and my tummy's beginning to rumble, and I think, "hot dog!" I hadn't thought to pick up buns while I was at the store, but I knew that I would be content with just the dawg and blops of mustard and ketchup. My tummy totally gets into the idea, and so with both it and the brain clamoring for a hot dog, I take the pack out of the fridge and look at the directions for the "preferred cooking method" (this is very important with fake hot dogs--they easily turn into inedible rubbery logs of grossness). The preferred cooking method was to cook in a skillet, with a lid.

I paused...I'd have to dig out the skillet. And the universal skillet lid that I have for all my skillets. It would take a while to cook. And then, of course, I'd have to clean it all up afterward.

I put the hot dogs back in the fridge and went back to what I was doing before the hunger signal.

Within a few minutes, though, the idiocy of it all hit me. I'm not going to feed myself what I want because I'd have to cook it in a skillet? How many times has Nathan asked for a sunnyside up egg for a snack, and I've said "Sure, baby," and quickly dug out that same skillet and lid? Really, how many times?

Oh.

I'm not mad at myself, even though I've gone through this similar thing plenty of times before. (I think I've even blogged about it.) It's just interesting to me--I know that I don't love myself enough, which often translates into not taking care of myself. When I think of that, however, I think in big terms and big events and big consequences.

It's not actually the big stuff, it's the little stuff. It's stopping to go to the bathroom when I have to pee. It's getting myself a glass of water when I'm thirsty. It's finding twenty minutes to do yoga when I'm feeling tense and achy. 

It's cooking myself a vegetarian hot dog in a skillet.

I am a beautiful work in progress, and I've just re-remembered something I need to know. Fabulous.

*Alas, I still haven't found the perfect vegetarian hot dog. It was good, but not EXACTLY what I'd hoped it would be.

Comments

[Karen]

I really like that idea, Kara--as soon as I read it, I started thinking about all the things I could give myself permission to do. (Like, giving myself permission to stop and take a few deep breaths when I'm feeling overwhelmed.) I wish I could hold on to this--this knowing that it's the little decisions/choices we make in this instant that make the biggest impact on our lives. These little things end up shaping the big things.

[kara]

I love this fabulous re-remembering. It is the little stuff. This makes me think about permission. Giving myself permission instead of waiting for someone else to give me permission. I wrote a whole bunch of little slips of permissions. Things like "permission to enjoy my body and take care of it" Anything that comes to me I write a permission slip and put it into a jar and then as a practice I reach in the jar and pull out a permission slip from time to time. It has been a good practice to see where my edges are and where I need to give myself some kindness instead of denying myself or passively waiting to find permission. And all of them are little bitty permissions but they equate to loving myself when I follow them.