It seems my "happy place" involves one of these Oscar winners.
I've yet to find my happy place (please don't over-examine that).
So I'm sitting in the second session of my anti-smoking class earlier this week, and our very sweet instructor is telling us about relaxation exercises. Fabulous! I'm all about quelling the anxiety demons.
After counting back from five to zero, we were asked to think of a calm, tranquil place and imagine all the details about it. Naturally, I panic. Where in the world, literally, am I calm? "Dang," I thought, "I can't even pass a relaxation test ..."
But after a few seconds, I conjured a sugar-white beach -- a sparsely populated sunny shore with tall palms, a light breeze and turquoise water. Sigh ... But paradise was interupted for some reason because the water withdrew then surged back as a tsunami. Seriously? How screwed up is my mind that my happy place involves a natural disaster?
Then, I think cabin in the woods -- totally not my scene, but it was a log cabin with smoke twirling from a fireplace, up and around tall pine-looking trees, like the backyard of Edward's house in "Twilight" or something. But there were bugs and angry wildlife there, and no sign of a restaurant or Banana Republic. I really suck at this.
Finally, I went back to the beach but didn't ponder water (almost drowned in ninth grade, apparently not over it). Just imagined Diane Keaton's beach house in "Something's Gotta Give," looking from her bed toward the big windows overlooking the sand. And as I was about to envision the jar of white stones she collected, plus the black one Jack Nicholson's character gave her in the movie, Ms. Instructor started counting up from zero. Oh, well ... It was a nice three seconds of non-anxiety. Next time, I'm just going to envision my bed in a parallel universe where alarm clocks were never invented.
Anyhoo, here's how my vittle intake went down the last 24 hours:
Wednesday night, went to a shindig at the Press Club, ate two crackers rather overloaded with this dip -- no idea what it was, but it had to have cheese in it. Then I felt guilty, so I didn't eat anything after that, not even a piece of fruit. Kinda stupid.
Thursday morning -- oatmeal with banana and cinnamon (didn't work out, so no egg whites); 10:30 a.m. snack was 1/4 cup almonds; and my lunch a few minutes ago at Billy's was the grilled chicken salad with cheese on the side (had about 1/4 cup -- OK, maybe 1/3, whatever), salsa for dressing and no breadstick. Ugh ... Would've LOVED some chicken tenders, but I'm happier with myself that I refrained.
Five ... Four ... Three ... Two ... One ... Zero -- duty's calling! Happy Friday Eve, y'all.
Peace, love and jars of white stones ... xoxo
