What If This IS Your Life?

I recently read a book called Dietland by Sarai Walker, which got me thinking.  The novel follows a Plum, a young woman who is, and has been for most of her life, morbidly obese.  When we meet her, Plum’s life is on hold, waiting for her scheduled bariatric surgery. She is lonely, timid and committed to work she despises.  Once she is thin, she believes, and only then, will her real life begin.  She believes she has a second human being, Alicia (which is her birth name; Plum is a nickname), living inside her.  Alicia is skinny, of course, and is capable of being more alive than Plum believes she is: Alicia will be funny and attractive and sassy. She will wear colorful clothes. Alicia will put a stake in the ground to respect her own writing, while Plum has an odious job responding to Dear Abby-style help request emails for a magazine.  Ironically, although Alicia is smaller in pounds than Plum, she will be bigger, bolder and more visible. 

I was struck by Plum’s character and this idea of waiting for life to begin. She’s waiting to be thin before she starts living the life she desires.  What are you waiting for? Maybe it’s about losing weight – or maybe it’s about after I move to a new house or town or state.  Maybe it’s when my kids leave home or after I get promoted or after I get married/divorced/ a new job/through school/into a higher tax bracket. 

I’ve been noticing a lot of this around me lately.

I have been as guilty of this as anyone: I might find myself eating the chocolate bar because I don’t officially start my cleanse until next week. I will write in my journal when I’m on vacation and have time.  I can’t really relax until XY or Z is checked off my list.  I will take a breath after this project is over.  I will connect with my out of town friend after … fill in the blank.

So, here’s a question that Plum made me wonder about: What if THIS IS your life? What if your butt will always look this way? Or your work demands will never relent? What if things might get worse before they get better? If that were true, what might you do differently? Might you ask yourself if there’s a way to find space right now to take a breath, to notice what’s around you, to invite a moment of aliveness? What might you say yes (or NO!) to RIGHT NOW – not later or tomorrow or next year?

What if you can act today – this moment, even – like that metaphoric thin person inside you wants to act? Find the sass. Wear the colorful outfit. Be big. Give your life permission to begin.