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Enough is Enough..
January 04, 2018 / Facebook / Tweet / Pin

It’s something we women dread doing with a passion. I hate it even worse than a gynecology appointment. I think about it and then quickly find another task to steer my mind away from it, if only for a while. Usually women succumb to it’s calling twice a year, or in my case, once a year. But this creature eventually grows into to such a dreadful state that it practically screams, “I’m here and I’m about to explode!”

It’s at that point I realize I can ignore it no longer.

It's waiting..

My closet.

Cleaning it out fills me with such dread. Every January, while I’m feeling ambitious about dieting and new starts, I go into an organizing frenzy, sorting, color coding, and promising myself that I’ll be more cognizant of how I return clothing and accessories to their rightful place. My organizational exploits usually last about two months, and then, sadly, I find myself cramming t-shirts, sweaters, yoga pants and jeans into what is supposed to be orderly shelves. Unfortunately it has become a giant mishmash of items gone rogue. Sheesh.

I can’t help but think about one of my favorite storybooks as a child, The Mitten, by Alvin Tresslet. An old Yugoslavian classic, it’s the story of a young boy who drops one of his mittens in the deep snow and then one by one, small creatures make their home in it, until it’s bursting at the seams.

A childhood favorite..

My closet is likewise, as are the waistlines of many of my jeans. Enough is enough on both counts. This past week I conquered one of my ever-growing predicaments. I turned up my music, rolled up my sleeve and did the inevitable. I purged skirts, dresses, suits and jewelry that either didn’t fit or didn’t need, and I accepted my reality: I suffer from a disease that causes pain, swelling and constant muscle twitches, and therefor certain styles of clothing will not be in my future anytime soon. There. I admitted it. That’s always the first step, correct? Enough trying to pretend that my arm is something it will never be. Enough thinking that I need more clothes, more shoes, more handbags, more everything. Enough pretending to my friends and my church that life is always one of sunshine and rainbows, with nary a cloud in sight. My friends, it’s time to be real.

It’s also way past due that I realize, at 51, I don’t have the body of a 25 year-old anymore and never will. Can you relate? Preconceptions about body image have wreaked havoc on the female psyche for centuries. I still wince when I think of Miss Scarlet having her corset tightened by Mammie in Gone with the Wind. Oh, didn’t it look like pure torture? But, dear readers, is it any worse than us peeling off a Spanx bodysuit after a big event, for fear that other women might whisper, “Wow, I do think she’s gained a few pounds.” Enough is enough.

Sure, we have to take responsibility for our health and try to remember, as scripture states (1 Corinthians 6:19-20) that our body is a temple for the Holy Spirit and to treat it justly. But we must somehow try and conquer our insecurity to avoid being plunged into the depths of depression, anxiety, anorexia and bulimia. Trust me, I’m a work in progress as well.


I’m determined, though, to eat healthier, go on long walks to clear my mind, and to cherish my friends more than ever. I can no longer compare my body or my life to others, as I must realize God made me unique and wonderful and that quirky is, well, it’s just quirky. And that’s okay. I AM ENOUGH. What about you?

This past week I tried something in which I’d never done before, for fear it was impossible due to my illness: yoga. If it hadn’t been for a dear friend explaining to me that it’s gentle yoga, and that my mind and body needed it, I wouldn’t have attended. And naturally, in a typical apologetic fashion when we women don’t feel adequate, I apologized upfront to my teacher. I explained to Alana that there might be some exercises in which I could not perform and to look over me if I appeared unbalanced. Then my sweet instructor, in an oh-so-nurturing manner, gently reminded me that there are no rules, no expectations, only a safe environment to breathe and take better care of body. Oh what a blessing that was to my ears! Even at High Frequency Loft of Taos, I am enough.

On Tuesday, while lying quietly on a mat and listening to the drumming of glass vessels, we were asked to think of a word, any word, to hold onto throughout the year—a goal for ourselves, our heart, our spirit. Initially, I felt it was an exercise in vocabulary in which I’d forget as soon as I got home and drank a protein smoothie.

However, the word in which God brought to my mind continues to prevail in my heart. It’s the one in which you’ve probably already surmised through reading this blog: enough. Perhaps, you too might ponder on this six-letter word and not be so hard on yourself. Perhaps, you too, might remember that Jesus’s death on the cross was enough to save us. Keep than in your consciousness whenever you try to out- work, out-think, out-spend or even out-love your way to God’s heart. You are enough by just being you. He loves you right where you are. If you are enough for the love of Jesus, shouldn’t you feel enough for everyone else in your circle?

Print this and remember!

My friends, here’s to 2018 and being real. I know you can do it. Our families had best prepare themselves. Let’s pray for one another. Deal? This blogger is most appreciative. Now I must go make myself a healthy green shake chockfull of spinach and other power greens. Gotta learn to love ‘em. I definitely feel that one, at least for today, will be…well… enough.

Happy New You.

Angie (As always, thanks for sharing! It means so much!)

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