The last thing I did before bed last night was play around on this blog, so it was fresh in my psyche as I feel asleep. At some point in the middle of the night I woke up and I had dreamed that the next blog title was “I’m going to die.” Of course this freaked me out, and I lay there in the dark wondering what on earth the disturbing blog title meant.
Those who know me understand I’m a keen observer of dreams and take a lot of meaning from them. I had the brief worry this dream was foretelling doom, but further thought led me to the realization of what I’m actually fearing will die: the “me” that I am now. The “me” that I live with every day and the “me” that is composed of a million different habits.
If I’m truly going to change – if I’m truly going to fight fat for fashion, for fitness, for health, for my future and myself – then parts of me as I know myself are going to have to ‘die.’
And we always mourn change in whatever shape it takes. Even if it’s good change. I’ve learned that lesson often throughout my life, with all of the changes, good and bad, that have made up my existence.
This blog has taken a more serious turn than intended for day two, but I’ll make up for it with a frothy post later.