Thanksgiving--Not the Holiday

Today on one of the Lean Eating logs one of the coaches posted a little piece of wisdom that really hit home with me.

"How would you like to work really really hard and have someone crap on you? It sucks, right? Now imagine your body as that person who toils away thanklessly, day after day. It loves you and wants you to survive. Spend a few minutes with it and say thanks."--Krista Scott-Dixon

I try to be particularly vocal of my gratitude toward the people in my life. In general, I feel like voicing one's gratitude is not only the right thing to do, but I think it is good for the souls of both parties. Recognizing another's contribution to one's life increases one's appreciation of it, and in turn makes the other person feel appreciated. So, I try very hard to be grateful and to show that I am grateful. That I would be such a horrible ingrate to myself is not only ironic but tragic, but I am. I see little more than disappointment when I look in the mirror. I am over-analytical and harsh. I can look in the mirror and be thankful for my dear hubby who loves me regardless. And more often than not, when I see that reflection and am disappointed in it, my next immediate thought is of how fortunate I am to have a husband who sees me with love-blurred vision. Reading Krista's words, however, started my day off differently today.

Today, I spent the day trying to be thankful--of myself. I am always, each and every moment, thankful to the point of tears for my life in general. I am quite literally the most fortunate/blessed woman on the planet. I am, not, however, very thankful for my body in the way that I should be. I look at and focus on its faults and disappointments. How wrong of me! Look at what my body can do...what it does for me! It allows me to live an independent, mobile, active life. I do not struggle to complete simple daily tasks. I am flexible and strong. I can roll around on the ground and take pictures or pull a patient up in bed by myself. This past spring I taught my nieces how to turn cartwheels. I am not limited in what I want to do by any physical weaknesses. I am 37-years-old, and I don't even think about my age being a crutch. Patients I see and people I work with practically have themselves in the grave by the time they're 35! How inconsiderate of me to think so poorly of this body that does so well by me! I would be so pissed if anyone talked to a friend the way that I talk to my body. So it changes. From here on out, my body is my bestest friend.