Humiliation and Failure

How I wish I had just ONE experience that was encompassed by these two descriptives, but alas, I have one that is humiliating, and one that is about failure.

Our dog has a serious case of wanderlust. We moved in with her 5 years ago with intentions to put up a fence, and the "temporary" fence that my dad put up across our back property line has apparently through either laziness or default become a more permanent fixture than ever intended. Dog proof? No. It's open on either end. Powder is known around the neighborhood for her walkabouts, and while generally harmless, she has been known to get into trouble. She's started a fight with a much smaller dog (one wearing a cone around it's neck!) and terrified its owner, she rolls in manure and comes home stinking to high heaven, and most terribly, she has had many joy-filled romps through the garden of our very old neighbor who truly labors over it. Bruce, since he is at work, has been largely immune to the day to day consequences of this behavior; I am left to field phone calls and make amends to our neighbors. It's, as I said, humiliating, particularly for me because I'm no fan of the dog myself. I've been tempted at times to say, "You want to call the pound? I invite you to. Just let me know when you do so I can be sure her collar is off, because if she makes a trip to the big house, I'd prefer it was one way." The final straw came today- I received a call for the THIRD DAY IN A ROW that my bleepity bleeping hound was over in my very aged neighbor's yard AGAIN. I'm done. I called Bruce at work to tell him we were at critical mass here, because I'm finished taking the heat for this stupid animal. I always feel like a jerk calling Bruce at work to complain about something, but I have had it.

On to failure...
I've complained about the "baby weight" frequently on these pages. It's not baby weight anymore: perhaps toddler weight, perhaps the short straw in some genetic lottery, perhaps the natural consequence of me having the gall to age in to the metabolic killing fields known better as "My 30's", but more likely than not, the weight is merely a reflection of the multiple and varied poor food choices I've made day in and day out for the last, say, 750 days. I've failed time and again to "conquer" the last ten pounds.

Two things have happened recently. First, I heard a good talk in church over Christmas break. It was about success and failure, and the gist of what stuck with me was that if you strive for success only thinking of the many ways that you might fail, then chances are good that you are probably going to fail. This hit home for me because I do that exact thing! When I am performing a piano piece, I sit down to the bench to play thinking of the infinite variations of ways that I might screw up, and sure enough, no matter how many times I've played the piece perfectly at home, sure enough, I screw up. Is it really any wonder, when you consider that I go in to the performance thinking, "Don't screw up. Whatever you do, don't screw up in this way, or that way, and especially don't screw up that part that you usually screw up at home." I bind myself to failure. Secondly, a dear friend just gave me a book about fitness, and the author talks a lot about visualization and positive self-talk. Sounds a little New Age-y, I know, but what I also know is that I've tried the "other way" and it's obviously not working for me. So, I'm going for it. I'm going to visualize myself succeeding, and I'm going to frame my choices in a positive way. And I'm really, really going to try not to think of the many ways that I might fail, and instead think of the few things I need to do to succeed.

I'm visualizing myself posting some sweet "after" photos on my blog in several weeks. Unfortunately, you've already seen the "befores." And "durings."